Free The Team That Couldn't Lose by Matt Christopher

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    A ll right, men!” yelled Coach Tom Kash. “Let’s try that play again! You guys on defense, charge in there! Your job is to try
     to stop Chip from throwing the ball!”
    Chip Chase wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jersey and got into position again behind center Toots Egan. It was a muggy
     day. The Cayugans had been practicing for almost an hour and were getting very tired.
    They needed practice, though. They needed it badly. They had scrimmaged theDuckbills last Saturday and were slaughtered 28-0. And their first league game was this coming Saturday, just five days away.
    It was the rain that had caused all the trouble. It had rained so much during the past two weeks that the team couldn’t get
     together enough for practice. And the Cayugans simply had to practice as much as they possibly could. They had twenty-one
     players on the roster, but too many of them knew too little about football. Chip, Splash Tuttle, and Spencer Keel were the
     only three who had played football at least two years. The other guys had played only one year, or not even that.
    “Down!” yelled Chip.
    The linemen and the backfield men got down instantly, left arms balanced on their left knees, right hands pressed against
     the short-cropped grass.
    “One! Two! Three! Hip!”
    Toots Egan snapped the ball. Chip took it, turned, faked a handoff to fullback Spencer Keel, then faded back. He saw Splash
     running down the left side of the park, a defenseman about two yards behind him.
    Chip reared back with both hands on the ball because he couldn’t grip it with one hand. His fingers were too short.
    Three guys broke through the line and charged at him. He removed his left hand from the ball, then heaved the ball in the
     direction of Splash Tuttle.
    It was a near-perfect throw, arcing down just ahead of Splash. Splash caught it with both hands and ran hard down the field.
     The man covering him couldn’t get close enough to touch him. If this were a real game, it would’ve been a touchdown.
    It was the best play of the three that Coach Tom Kash had taught them. They were all simple plays. The coach didn’t thinkthey’d be able to perform more difficult ones.
    Chip heard a shout from the sideline. “Nice pass, Chip! Good arm!”
    That was Danny Livermore, the team’s manager. He was slim and short and two years younger than Chip. He wasn’t eligible to
     play in the league yet, but he was allowed to help out as manager.
    Chip rolled his eyes. That kid! he thought. Why does he always have to try to be my best friend?
    It wasn’t that Chip didn’t like the little guy. But Danny’s hero worship of Chip was embarrassing sometimes. That wouldn’t
     have been so bad, but Danny kept hoping to get Chip interested in his hobbies. Hobbies like collecting butterflies and flowers,
     and going to flea markets and garage sales. He was always carrying around this crazy notebook with things pasted in it or
     written down.Chip just wasn’t keen on any of that stuff — or on spending more time with Danny.
    Chip was sure that Danny could become just about anything he wanted to when he grew up. He was that smart. He didn’t look
     it, but he was. He was a whiz at math and wrote compositions more easily than any kid in Chip’s grade. He was adventurous,
     too, for someone his size. He had gone alone into the woods two or three times to collect leaves. There was a swamp in the
     middle of the woods, but that didn’t faze Danny.
    If only he didn’t try so hard, thought Chip.
    “Okay, fellas,” Coach Tom Kash said. “Get around me a minute. “Got something to tell you.”
    Beside him stood Phil Wayne, his assistant coach. Phil was a young man, no older than twenty-two, with short, dark hair. Although
     he was well liked, he really knew very little about football.
    “Boys,” Tom Kash said after the team had assembled in front of him, “I don’t know whether you’ve heard this, but some of us
     at the computer plant have been