Free Goal-Line Stand by Todd Hafer Page A

game.”
    “Well, that’s what you need to show to the team. Hope. Because if you don’t have it, nobody’s going to have it.”
    Pork Chop arched one eyebrow. “Not even you?”
    Cody fixed his eyes on the horizon. “I don’t know, Chop. It’s my final junior high game. My dad’s going to be there—I hope. I’m gonna go big, no matter what.”
    Pork Chop smiled. “You know what? Then I will, too. You just inspired me.”
    Cody felt his mouth drop open. “I inspired you?”
    “Hey, I’m not ashamed to admit it. You’re a church boy. You know that David was badder than Goliath. I guess I should tell you, since you obviously aren’t perceptive enough to realize it, but it’s good for me to know you’ve got my back. Out on the field and everywhere, you know?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. It wasn’t the same playin’ on the D-line without you out there, backing me up. Because I know if a ball carrier is lucky and gets by me, you’ve got my back. That’s why I’m not afraid to battle two blockers, even three. ’Cuz I know you’re behind me and you won’t let me down.”
    Cody walked several steps in stunned silence. Pork Chop smiled knowingly. “What, I rock your world or something by admitting I’m not Superman and I can use a little help now and then?”
    “Yeah,” Cody answered after a thoughtful pause. “I guess you did.”
    Glancing at his watch, Cody noted it was 9 p.m. He wanted to go to bed early, as he always tried to do the night before a game.
    “Come on, Dad,” he whispered, “where are you? We need to talk.”
    He woke to the sensation of his dad gently tugging on his arm. “Code,” he said in a half-whisper, “why don’t you head up to bed? Guess you fell asleep on the couch, huh?”
    Cody blinked and tried to focus on his father’s face. “I…I guess so. Is it really after ten?”
    His dad nodded.
    “Hey, Dad, before I go up, I have a question, kind of.”
    Cody’s dad sighed loudly. “Please don’t pester me about going to church again. I’ve told you over and over, I’ll go when I am ready. And I’m not ready yet!”
    Cody swallowed hard. “No, it’s not about that, Dad. I mean, I do wish you would start going with me again—but, uh, what I was going to say is that tomorrow is the final game of the season. The final game of my middle school career.”
    “Wow, Code, the season sure went by fast.”
    Cody yawned. “I guess so. Anyway, I guess I understand why you haven’t been able to make it to any of the games this year, but tomorrow, it’s important, you know. You think you can make it, just this once?”
    “Sure, son. I’ll be there. I have to go into the office again in the morning, but I’ll come to the stadium right from work. What time is the game?”
    “Two o’clock, just like all the Saturday games. So, you’ll be there? You promise?”
    “I promise.”
    On game day, Cody walked to school after eating a lunch of microwaveable chicken noodle soup, followed by two peanut butter sandwiches. He reached the school at 12:30. The East bus hadn’t even arrived in the parking lot. Entering the locker room moments later, he saw Coach Smith seated on a bench at the far end. A feeling of uneasiness swept over him and he backed away, hoping to exit unseen.
    But Coach Smith saw him before he took three steps. “Hey, Martin,” he said. His voice was tired. Cody walked slowly toward his coach. As he drew near, he saw that the man’s eyes were red and weary.
    Maybe he’s allergic to something, Cody thought. Hope it isn’t me.
    “Sit down, Martin.”
    It sounded more like a suggestion than a command.
    “You ready for today, Martin?”
    “Yes, sir, Coach. I’m going to give it everything I have. We all are. We’re going to play hard for you.”
    “Thanks, Martin.”
    Coach Smith began massaging his temples with his stubby fingers.
    “Coach,” Cody asked tentatively, “are you okay?”
    “Yeah, sure,” he answered absently. “It’s just been a long