Free Juice by Eric Walters

Chapter One
    â€œEverybody shut up and listen!” Dave yelled.
    The huddle fell silent, but the noise of the crowd rolled out of the bleachers and washed across the field. I’d never heard a crowd so loud. Then again, I’d never played in front of this many people, or in this big a game. There were thousands and thousands of people, and everybody was yelling and screaming and cheering like crazy.
    â€œI need everybody to focus!” Dave said. “Forget about the crowd, forget that this is the most important game any of us are probably ever going to play in. Forget about everything except what’s going to happen on this field in the next half a minute.”
    Dave was the co-captain of the team. A senior and the strong safety, he called all of our defensive plays.
    I looked past him to the big scoreboard at the end of the stadium. There were thirty-one seconds left and we were up fourteen to twelve. That was good. The problem was that they had the ball on our twenty-seven yard line. The bigger problem was that all twelve of their points had come from their field goal kicker. The biggest problem was that he hadn’t missed from this distance all season.
    It was awful to think that we could lose even though we hadn’t let them get into our end zone to score a touchdown. We were going to lose to some scrawny little kid named Luigi, who couldn’t have weighed more than a 120 pounds. Some kid who’dnever even seen a football game before his family moved here from Europe last summer. Maybe he still didn’t understand the game, but he could kick a football like nobody’s business. I’d heard that there were college scouts in the crowd who’d come from around the country just to see him play.
    â€œMoose, are you listening?” Dave barked.
    I startled back to reality. “Of course I’m listening,” I mumbled through my mouth guard.
    â€œWe’re going to blitz,” Dave said.
    â€œWho’s going to blitz?” one of the corners asked.
    â€œEverybody.”
    â€œWhat?” somebody gasped. “You’re joking, right?”
    â€œDoes this seem like the time for a joke? I want everybody to blitz.”
    â€œBut if we all blitz, then the quarterback just has to lob a little pass to a receiver and he’s gone for a touchdown.”
    â€œHe’s not thinking about passing,” Dave said. “He’s going to take the snap, spin around and hand off to a back who is goingto try to move the ball into the very center of the field to set up the winning field goal.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure about that?” the other corner asked.
    â€œI’m not. What I am sure of is that we have to push them back or they’ll get a field goal. We have to gamble. If I’m right, we win. If I’m wrong, we lose—losing by one point or losing by five is still losing,” Dave explained, and it all made perfect sense.
    â€œAnd if you get your hands on the ball carrier, don’t tackle him to the ground. Hold him up and try to punch the ball free. Understand?”
    Everybody grunted out agreement.
    â€œOkay, break!” Dave yelled.
    I started for the line. Everybody settled into their spots.
    â€œMoose!” Dave called out and I stopped. He walked up and put his mouth right by the ear hole of my helmet. “They can’t double or triple you on this play. Drive straight and hard for the hole—the moose is on the loose.”
    I smiled and nodded my head and he tapped me on the side of my helmet.
    He was right. All through the game I’d been having to battle two offensive linemen. They’d been double-teaming me on every play—except for the times I’d found myself battling through three men.
    That had been happening more and more throughout the season. In the beginning, nobody knew who I was, but as my sack total kept rising, I got more attention. Today all I’d managed was a few tackles, a