9 Halftime

Chapter 9 Halftime We all trudged into the locker room like zombies. We were tired. Sore. Dirty. Depressed. It looked more like a hospital than a locker room. Wyatt Hyatt was lying on the floor picking his nose. "I think I'm gonna die," I announced as I plopped down on a bench. "Can we go home now?" asked Neil the nude kid. Coach Hyatt blew her whistle. "Okay," she barked. "Listen up! All you ragamuffins gather around and take a knee." "Take a knee?" I asked. "Why should I take a knee?" "Where do I get a knee to take?" asked Ryan. "And where should I take it?"

"What if somebody is using their knee and can't loan it to me?" asked Michael. "I can't take my own knee," said Neil. "I need it. Whose knee should I take?" "Just kneel down, boys," said Coach Hyatt.

"Oh." "We're only behind by seventy-seven points," the coach told us. "There's still a lot of football to be played. Plenty of time to

catch up." Everybody groaned "Can't we just forfeit the game, Coach?" I asked. "Forfeit?" Coach Hyatt barked. "When I was your age and my team was behind by seventy-seven points, do you know what I would do?" "What?" we all asked. "I'd build a log cabin with my bare hands." "Why would you do that?" asked Ryan. But Coach Hyatt wasn't listening. She picked up a clipboard and paced back and forth across the locker room. I could tell she was going to give us a pep talk. Coaches always pace back and forth and give you a pep talk when your team is losing. It's the first rule of being a coach. "I want to ask you ragamuffins a

question," Coach Hyatt said. "What's a ten-letter word that means 'first president'?" "Washington!" we all shouted. "Right!" The coach wrote something on her clipboard. "What does that have to do with football?" I asked. "Nothing," the coach replied. "I'm working on a crossword puzzle." She started pacing back and forth again. "How many states are there?" she asked. "Fifty!" we all shouted. "Right! And how many cents are in two quarters?" asked Coach Hyatt. "Fifty!" we all shouted. "Right! And what's half of a hundred?" asked Coach Hyatt. "Fifty!" we all shouted. "What does that have to do with

football?" I asked. "Nothing," she said. "Fifty is my favorite number. The point is, this game is half over. That's fifty percent. So we've got fifty percent left. The Sharks had their half. Now it's time for our half." "But we're getting killed out there, Coach!" Michael said. "Don't worry," Coach Hyatt told us. "I have a plan." A plan? What plan could she possibly have? We were behind by seventy-seven points! "It's time to bring out our secret weapon," Coach Hyatt said. She went over to the locker room door. She put her hand on the doorknob. And you'll never believe in a million hundred years who walked into the door at that moment.