Making the Save (3 page)
“Oh, just some stuff,” the coach answered vaguely. “Nothing urgent, but they need to be done today. Well, let’s get started.” He strode off toward the goal.
Bucky followed.
Two hours,
he thought.
I just have to keep him busy for two hours.
“We’ll begin with our usual warm-up. I’ll kick the ball, you catch it or slap it out of the way. All set?”
Bucky nodded and got into ready position. Coach Bradley lined up behind a ball. He gave it an easy kick, lobbing toward Bucky’s right side at shoulder height. Instinctively, Bucky reached up and caught the ball.
“Good, no problems there!” The coach smiled encouragingly.
Bucky smiled, too. But as he rolled the ball back to the coach, he wanted to kick himself.
I’ve got to mess up or else this practice will be over before it’s begun!
he thought.
With this in mind, he got ready for the next kick. It came as a soft shot to the corner. One quick side step, and Bucky could be between the ball and the net. He’d done it a million times without a problem. But this time, as he stepped sideways, he tripped. He hit the dirt, and the ball rolled past him.
“Whoops!” said the coach. “You okay, Bucky?”
Bucky stood and brushed the dirt from his shirt. “Guess I’m a little clumsy today,” he said.
The coach shrugged. “Well, let’s try another.”
Bucky flubbed the next one. And the next, and the next, and the next. After twenty minutes of missing balls, colliding with goal posts, and tripping over his own feet, Bucky was starting to feel a little foolish. Still, he was determined to keep up the act as long as Coach Bradley stayed with him.
Finally, however, the coach stopped the drill. “Bucky,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were missing these balls on purpose.”
Bucky tried to look innocent. “No way, Coach!” he protested. “I mean, why would I do something like that?”
“I don’t know. But I will tell you this: Unless I see some pretty quick improvement, I’m going to have to start Jason in the goal our last game.”
Bucky gulped. Suddenly, his plan to keep the coach busy didn’t seem so smart anymore!
B
ucky risked a look at his watch. It was quarter after eleven. He had to keep the coach busy for at least another half hour! But he didn’t dare continue to mess up. Playing goalie for the team’s final game was too important to him. He decided to flub his saves every third time instead of every time.
He put his plan into action. Catch, save— miss. Catch, save—miss. Everything seemed to be going fine until—
“Bucky, are you playing some sort of game here?” The coach looked a little upset. “Or are you following a pattern of saves and misses because you think it’s funny?”
Bucky didn’t know what to say. He peeked at his watch again. Still fifteen minutes to go!
The coach checked his watch, too. Then he started to gather up the balls.
“Where—where are you going?” Bucky asked fearfully.
“I don’t think more practice is going to change the way you’re playing today, do you?” the coach replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to be someplace by noon.” He shoved the balls into a big mesh bag and started toward his van.
Bucky’s mind spun frantically. The car wash ended at noon. Was that where the coach needed to be?
Maybe I should pretend to hurt myself,
he thought. But he realized that idea wouldn’t work. The coach wasn’t dumb. He’d see right away that Bucky was faking it.
I’ll ask him how he got interested in soccer,
Bucky decided.
Grown-ups always like to talk about themselves!
He planted himself by the driver side of the van, blocking the door so the coach couldn’t open it. “Say, Coach, I’ve been wondering,” he said. “When did you first play soccer? What position did you play? Did you play for school teams? What was your team name? What—”
Coach Bradley cut him off. “Bucky, I’d be happy to answer all your questions.” He reached over and gently moved Bucky away from the door. “But right now, I have to be going.” He opened the van door, climbed inside, and started the engine. “I’ll see you at the game on Saturday.”
“But, Coach!” Bucky cried over the sound of the motor.
Coach Bradley smiled. “See you Saturday!” he called as he drove off.
Bucky hopped on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could, hoping to see where the coach was going. But by the time he reached the end of the parking lot, the van had disappeared. Bucky sighed and headed for home.
When he rounded the corner onto his dead-end street, he was relieved to see no sign of the coach’s van. However, judging from the pile of money on the lemonade stand, many other cars and vans had been by.
A few teammates watched as Bundy and Dewey counted the money. Others were picking up buckets and sponges and gathering towels. As Bucky waved to his friends, he noticed that Stookie wasn’t among them. He parked his bike next to the stand.
“Well?” he asked. “How’d we do?” Bundy looked at Dewey. Dewey shook his head. “We don’t have enough,” he said. “Sorry, Bucky.”
B
ucky couldn’t believe it. All their hard work, all he’d risked by pretending to play badly and acting weird around the coach—all for nothing!
“Well,” he said with a sigh, “at least we have enough to get him something, right?” He tried to hide his disappointment but failed. He’d been so looking forward to seeing the coach’s expression when they gave him that jacket.
Most of them, anyway. Bucky felt his disappointment turn to anger when he thought of Stookie. One thing was for sure—Stookie’s name wouldn’t be on the card they put with the present!
Bucky was just about to say as much to his friends, when Stookie himself rode up on his bike. Bucky put his hands on his hips, waiting for Stookie to start gloating over their failure. But to his surprise, Stookie looked anything but smug. Unbelievably, he looked sort of ashamed!
“Hi, guys,” he said in a low voice. “Sorry I missed the car wash. And sorry I’ve been acting like an idiot. Sometimes I let my temper get out of control, you know? But the team is what matters now, so if it’s not too late, I’d like to make a donation to the present fund.” He drew a wad of bills out of his pocket and handed them to Dewey. Dewey’s eyes widened.
“What bank did you rob to get this much money?” he asked.
“No bank,” Stookie said. “I—I just sold something.” He wouldn’t say anything else.
“We’ve got enough money! What are we waiting for?” Bundy yelled. “Let’s head to Rocko’s right now!”
The jacket was ready by Friday night. Bucky wrapped it in special soccer paper. He taped the card that everyone—including Stookie— had signed to the outside of the package. He put the present on the nightstand next to his bed and fell asleep with one hand resting on it.
The next morning was a perfect soccer day—warm, but not too warm, cloudy, but with just enough sun to make people feel cheerful. Bundy hid the present under the bench. They were going to give it to the coach after the game.
After warm-ups, the coach called out the starting roster. As usual, Lou, Stookie, and Jerry were starting as the strikers. At the half-back positions were Amanda, Bundy, and Dewey. Brant, Lisa, Alan, and Ted were the fullbacks.
“And in the goal, let’s have Bucky,” the coach finished. Bucky’s breath came out in a
whoosh.
Coach Bradley gave him a wink. “Feeling up to it today, Bucky?” he asked.
“Absolutely, sir!” Bucky replied.
The ’Cats were playing the Torpedoes, the toughest team in the league. The ’Cats had won a few and lost a few to the Torpedoes. Today, they hoped to add one last win. They knew the Torpedoes were hoping to do the same.
The ’Cats won the coin toss and started out with the ball. At the ref’s whistle, Stookie toed the ball to Jerry, then dashed downfield, looking for a pass. Jerry dribbled quickly down the sideline. Two Torpedoes jumped in front of him, stabbing at the ball with their feet. Jerry worked to keep control, but the ball bounced over the sideline.
Amanda threw the ball in. She aimed for Jerry, but a Torpedo halfback stole the ball. Before Jerry could stop her, the Torpedo was off and running toward the ’Cats goal. Amanda rushed to interfere. The Torpedo booted the ball to her center striker. He dribbled it down the field like a pro, dodged past Bundy, and tricked Ted with a fake. Suddenly, he was right in front of Bucky!
T
he Torpedo kicked the ball high to the right corner. Bucky leaped sideways, arms outstretched—and just managed to tap the ball up and over the goal! Shouts of joy mingled with cries of disappointment.
The ref retrieved the ball and set it in the corner circle for a corner kick. Players from both teams crowded near the goal. Bucky crouched down, ready and waiting. The Torpedo launched the kick high in the air. Another Torpedo tried to head it into the goal. She missed! The ball bounced toward the goal mouth. Bucky scooped it up and booted it far down the field to where Stookie, Jerry, and Lou were waiting. The attack was on!
Bucky hopped from foot to foot, watching and waiting. A roar rose up from the far end of the field. The ’Cats had scored!
Bucky did his best to hold on to their lead. Then, as the first half wound down, he missed a low kick to the left corner. He lay on his stomach in the dirt, listening to the cheers from the Torpedoes and the ref’s whistle signaling the end of the first half.
A hand pulled him to his feet. “C’mon, Bucky, you can rest on the bench,” Coach Bradley said with a smile.
Bucky gulped down some water and snacked on some juicy orange slices. When the second half began, he was refreshed and raring to go. But the coach put Jason in the goal. Bucky knew Coach Bradley always made sure everyone got to play every game. Still, it was hard to watch someone else take his position.
Jason had improved a lot since the start of the season. Even so, he was no match for the Torpedoes. Ten minutes into the half, they scored their second goal. Luckily, Lou put one past the Torpedoes’ goalie a few minutes later to tie the game again.
Soon after, Bucky replaced Jason. Shot after shot barreled at him. Time and again he deflected high kicks, caught low rollers, and sent the ball toward the other end. Then, with the clock ticking off the last minutes of the game, he snagged the ball midchest. He scanned the field and spied Stookie at the center line. He booted the ball with all his might. It soared high into the air. Players from both teams rushed to get under it. But it was Stookie who controlled it. He was unstoppable, dodging around players to reach the goal.
Boom!
The ball rocketed past the goalie, making the net billow with the force of Stookie’s kick. The ’Cats took the lead!
The goal seemed to take the fight out of the Torpedoes. When the final whistle blew, the score read ’Cats 3, Torpedoes 2!
Coach Bradley was all smiles. His smile turned to surprise when Bucky pulled out the present and laid it in his hands.
“What’s this?”
Bundy, the team captain, cleared his throat. “Coach Bradley, we just wanted to say thanks for being the best coach ever.”