Free Ultimate Sports by Donald R. Gallo Page A

novels, as well as
Athletic Shorts
, his book of short stories, was named a Best Book for Young Adults by the American Library Association. Moreover, both
Stotan!
and
Athletic Shorts
have been listed by the ALA among the 100 Best of the Best Books for Young Adults published between 1967 and 1992. Like “Superboy,” each of his works provides an insightful examination of teenage struggles in a painful world, with a background of sports.
    His understanding of the agony suffered by the characters in his stories is no doubt a reflection of the work he did for twelve years as a child and family therapist with the Community Mental Health Center in Spokane. His perceptions of sports, especially his insights into athletics at small schools,come from his own experiences growing up in Cascade, Idaho, where he ran track and played football and basketball. “Had to,” he says, “it was a
small
school.” At Eastern Washington State College he was a member of the swim team, specializing in distance freestyle and qualifying for the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletes nationals in 1967 and 1968. Now he plays “old man” basketball and is a triathlon competitor—running, biking, and swimming.
    Mr. Crutcher is also the author of an exciting adult novel dealing with child abuse called
The Deep End
. His newest book for teenage readers, called
Ironman
, is about father-son power struggles, with Bo Brewster from “Superboy” as the main character.
    In 1993 the Assembly on Literature for Adolescents of the National Council of Teachers of English gave Chris Crutcher its ALAN Award for his outstanding contributions to the field of young adult literature.

The Sultan High School wrestling team has a new coach. He’s sincere but not very competent. Even though the boys try their best, they stink. Can a mascot make a difference?

If You Can’t Be Lucky…

    My name is Joey Hagstrom. I live in Sultan, Washington, with my mom and dad. Sultan is a farming community in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains about fifty miles east of Seattle. I suppose it’s a great place to live. I can go hiking and skiing and fishing and hunting. But it gets boring out here with the cows and the pigs and the sheep. Every kid in Sultan—including me—would rather live in Seattle.
    But this story isn’t about me. It’s about last year when the school district ran out of money, the athletic department fell apart, and my uncle Joe ended up as my high-school wrestling coach. It’s also about his smelly dog, Cindy, and the amazing way our season ended.
    My uncle Joe works at the sewage treatment plant on the Skykomish River. I’m not exactly sure what he does there. All I know is that he walks around pools of bubbling, frothy, brown water with a long pole in his hand. He wears a white suit, has a doctor’s mask over his mouth, and every once in a while pokes at the water. Cindy, hisbig black Labrador, is always at his heels, her tongue hanging out like she’s smiling. My dad says that’s because dogs love anything that stinks.
    I’ve never asked Uncle Joe what he pokes at. I’ve never asked why the water is bubbly, or why it’s brownish, or where it goes when Uncle Joe is done with it. I’m not the only one who is squeamish about that sewage treatment plant. I’ve never heard anybody ask Uncle Joe anything about his work.
    That doesn’t keep Uncle Joe from talking about his job, though. He talks about it every chance he gets. “My philosophy is simple,” he says, his face set in a fake scowl. “I look out for number one.” He pokes himself on his chest for effect. “But I also look out for number two.” Then he laughs, a big deep-chested laugh. “Get it? Number one and number two! You know, tinkle and poop! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
    I’ve heard this joke at least one hundred times in my life.
    “Number one and number two! Get it? Ha! Ha! Ha!”
    Don’t misunderstand. I like Uncle Joe. My dad runs a dairy farm for Carnation milk. By the