Free Gang Tackle by Eric Howling Page A

it. That takes time. Then game-playing dudes have to find out it’s available. Then they have to pay and download it. And then we have to wait for iTunes to collect the dough and pay us.”
    “I don’t know if we can wait that long,” Darnell said. “Nobody wants to play in these lame uniforms. That’s why we’re losing, bro. They’re so old I bet my dad wore one when he played for Southside.”
    “We can still make the playoffs,” Jamal said.
    “But only if we win one of our last two games. And this game is toast.”
    “Okay, guys, let’s get out there and bring it to them.” Coach stood in front of the bench, wearing his Saints windbreaker and pointing to the field. “We’re only down by three touchdowns.”
    Jamal could always count on Coach Kemp to look on the bright side. It was such a change from Coach Fort, who had always put them down. No matter how bad the score, Coach Kemp always thought the Saints could make a comeback and win. But Jamal wasn’t so sure this time. Not after having their new unis taken away. Not after having to play in rags. Not after getting pummeled in the first half. Might as well be down by ten touchdowns , he thought as he ran onto the field.
    The Saints took the kickoff, and Rico ran it back to their own thirty-yard line. The offense huddled together and Darnell called the play. A square out to Jamal. The players clapped their hands to break the huddle and lined up face-to-face with the Lions.
    “Where did that uniform come from?” the Lion across from Jamal taunted. “The Salvation Army?”
    Jamal tried to ignore the insult. But he wasn’t the only one getting a cheap shot.
    “Is Southside so poor you can’t afford real uniforms?” a big lineman said to Darnell.
    A cornerback needled Rico. “You’ve got so many holes in your jersey, I’ve got nothing to grab. It’s like you’re cheating.”
    Jamal had heard enough. When Davey hiked the ball to Darnell, Jamal shot from the line. But he didn’t race downfield for a pass like he was supposed to. He sprinted straight for the Lions cornerback and knocked him down with a straight arm to the chest. The fight was on. The Lion scrambled to his feet and took a swing at Jamal. He ducked and drove his shoulder pad hard into the Lion’s ribs. The two players crashed to the ground, wrestling on the turf.
    They weren’t the only two fighting. The rest of the Saints squared off against the Lions. Darnell’s big right hand grasped the lineman by the face guard and threw him to the ground. Rico had the Don Mills cornerback in a headlock. Davey had flattened a defensive end and was sitting on him. It was an all-out war. And it was the only battle the Saints were winning.
    The referee kept blowing his whistle, trying to break up the brawl, but the players weren’t listening. Both teams kept wailing on each other until the two coaches ran onto the field.
    “Get off him, Jamal!” Coach Kemp shouted. “And get off the field—now! Darnell! Rico! Davey! That means you too. Move it!”
    After a few minutes the two coaches had managed to clear the field. Jamal, Darnell and the rest of the Saints stood on the sideline. Their uniforms were even more ripped and stained than before. The players were still angry and gasping for breath.
    “Jamal and Darnell, you guys started the fight.” Coach Kemp was just as mad as the players. “You’re both out of the game!”
    “But Coach, you should have heard what they were saying about our uniforms,” Jamal said, throwing up his hands.
    “I don’t care. This is football. Lots of things get said. You’ve got to ignore it. Be tougher than that and play through it.”
    “What does it matter anyway?” Darnell said. “We were losing big-time.”
    “If you played half as hard as you fought, you might not be losing.” Coach Kemp turned and called for the second-string quarterback and receiver. “Eli and Malik, you’re in.”
    Jamal slumped on the bench for the rest of the second half. He