Soccer Hero Page 3

  He looked up and shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I'll do it.”

  The delighted smile returned to the reporter's face. She spread her arms wide and for one horrid moment Rob thought she was going to hug him. Instead, she brought her hands together in a single clap.

  “Marvelous!” she cried.

  The interview took less than an hour, but to Rob it seemed endless. Ms. Carmichael asked him question after question after question — about CPR, soccer, the coach, his teammates, everything. When she finally closed her notebook, Rob was exhausted. But then she took out a digital camera and asked him to pose for some photos. Only after she had a shot that satisfied her did Ms. Carmichael gather her things to leave.

  “Cross your fingers that we make tomorrow's paper!” she called as she climbed into her car. “Good-bye!”

  Mrs. Lasher closed the front door and sagged against it. “Phew! That was tough for me, and I wasn't even the one answering her questions!” She rumpled Rob's hair. “I do believe we've earned ourselves big bowls of ice cream. With sprinkles!”

  Rob was just scraping the last bit of melted ice cream from his bowl when the phone rang. It was Benji.

  “Guess what!” he cried.

  “Hmm, let me think,” Rob answered sarcastically. “You talked to someone at the newspaper?”

  “That's right.” Benji sounded surprised. “I put the posters up in the stores, too. But how did you find out about the paper?”

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” Rob responded. “Listen, Benji, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But next time, leave me out of it, okay?”

  Benji didn't say anything for a moment. Then, “Gee, Rob, I thought you were on board with it. Sorry if we got our signals crossed.”

  “Yeah, well, next time, double-check with me first, okay?”

  “Ooo-kaay,” Benji said slowly. “Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at school. Um, good night.”

  “Yeah, good night.”

  7

  Rob had been in bed reading for fifteen minutes when the phone rang again. His mother answered it and then opened his door, phone in hand.

  “It's for you,” she said.

  “Is it Dad?”

  Mrs. Lasher shook her head. “No, but trust me, you want to take this call.”

  Rob took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Howdy, son,” a man with a gravelly voice said. “I'm Stan Benoit. I'm the Pirates' new coach.”

  Rob sat up straight, stunned. “No way! Really? That's great!”

  “The first practice is tomorrow after school,” the man said. “See you then.” He hung up, leaving Rob to wonder how in the world he'd heard about the Pirates' need for a coach so quickly.

  Rob got out of bed to return the phone to its cradle. He thought about calling Benji to celebrate the good news but then saw how late it was.

  I'll talk to him first thing tomorrow, he thought. Then he went to bed.

  He woke up early the next morning. When he got downstairs, he grabbed the phone and opened the front door to get the morning paper for his mother to read. He'd punched in the first three numbers of Benji's phone number when the newspaper's top story caught his eye.

  LOCAL HERO SAVES LIFE the headline read in huge letters across the front page. Below the headline was his picture!

  Rob hung up the phone and stared at the paper. That's how Mrs. Lasher found him.

  “Goodness,” she said when she saw what he was looking at. “I certainly didn't expect you to be the top story, did you?”

  Rob shook his head and then began to read the article. Mrs. Lasher read over his shoulder.

  “Well,” she said when they were both through, “Ms. Carmichael certainly got the facts right. Reading this makes me prouder of you than ever! And that's really a great picture of you.”

  Rob nodded dumbly, still amazed by the prominence his story had gotten in the paper. “The funny thing is,” he said at last, “I didn't even have to do the interview because Mr. Benoit had already signed on to be our coach!”

  “Well, I think it's a marvelous story and well deserved, too. Here, let me have it. I want to send it to your father.”

  All through breakfast, Rob wondered who else had seen the story. He found out the minute he walked into school that morning.

  “Hey, look, it's Rob!” a loud-mouthed girl cried. Rob recognized her as Ming's twin sister. “Will you sign my backpack?” She handed him a marker and then turned so he could scrawl his name on her bag.

  That's how things went on all day. Kids he didn't even know slapped him on the back and congratulated him. Teachers complimented him, too. And at the end of the day, the principal got on the loudspeaker and asked that everyone take a moment to applaud their local hero, Rob Lasher. All the attention was too much for Rob.

  Rob couldn't wait to get to soccer practice. There, at least, he hoped he'd be treated normally! He caught sight of Benji heading into the locker room to get ready for practice. Rob hadn't seen him or talked to him all day. Now he barreled toward him.

  “Thanks a lot, Benji!” he said when he reached the other boy.

  Benji stared at Rob in surprise. “What did I do?”

  “The newspaper article!”

  “But I didn't —” Benji started to say. Then his gaze shifted from Rob to someone behind him and he snapped his lips shut again.

  At the same moment, Rob felt a hand drop on his shoulder.

  “Are you the Lasher boy?” a gravelly voice rumbled behind him.

  Rob turned to find a short, bald man behind him. The man was wearing a bright yellow T-shirt with the words STAN'S AUTO REPAIR emblazoned above a picture of a sad-faced car.

  “I just read about you in the paper,” the man continued. “I'm Coach Stan. Here, this is for you.” He handed Rob a duplicate of the T-shirt he was wearing. He gave one to Benji, too, and then gestured to a box full of more shirts.

  “Pass these out to everyone, will you, Lasher? Tell them to put them on and then do three laps around the field. I'll meet you out there.” Coach Stan spun smartly and disappeared into the men's bathroom.

  Rob stared at the shirt in his hands. Then he turned his back to Benji, took off the shirt he was wearing, and pulled the bright yellow one over his head. Then he turned back and looked at himself in dismay.

  Benji covered his mouth with his hand to smother his grin.

  “Oh yeah?” Rob jerked a shirt over Benji's head. “How do you like it!”

  When Benji's head popped out the neck-hole, he was making a goofy face. Any rancor Rob felt for Benji vanished in that moment. They collapsed against each other, howling with laughter. When the other boys came to see what was so funny, Rob and Benji tossed shirts to each of them — and as they made their way to the field for the laps, everyone was whooping and shouting.

  But their good humor vanished soon after. Coach Stan appeared just as they finished the last lap. “Okay, how about some jumping jacks?” he called from the sideline. “Let's say fifty?”

  “Is he asking us or telling us?” Sam whispered.

  “I guess he's telling us,” Rob whispered back. “Come on.”

  After the jumping jacks, Coach Stan had them do some push-ups and leg lifts. When they were through, the coach gestured to Rob.

  “Lasher! Front and center!”

  “Me, coach?”

  The coach nodded, so Rob stepped forward.

  “Okay, guys, here's the thing,” the coach said, spreading his hands. “I know cars, not soccer. But you needed a coach, so here I am. That being said, I'm going to need someone who knows this game inside and out to steer me and this team right.”

  He jerked a thumb at Rob. “From what I read, this here's the guy to help me out. So unless there are any objections, I'm appointing him team captain. Okay?”

  Kirk immediately started clapping. Others applauded, too, including Benji, who had a wide grin on his face. Rob grinned back.

  But his smile faded when he saw Dmitri and Scott exchange looks. Neither was clapping and
then Rob noticed that a few other boys were only applauding halfheartedly. Their message was loud and clear — the coach may have chosen Rob for their captain, but Rob wasn't their choice. Not by a long shot.

  8

  Now that that's settled,” Coach Benoit said, “let's get started. How about you set up two lines of cones for a dribbling drill, captain?”

  So Rob picked up the stack of orange cones and lined them up from the center line to the goal area. Meanwhile, the rest of the team divided into two groups for the drill. Rob lobbed three balls to each group and then trotted to the back of one line. Coach Stan stood at the side, leaned forward with his hands on his knees, and blew a loud shriek on his whistle. The first boy in each line took off, dribbling and slaloming between the cones.

  Normally, the boys at the back of the lines would have chatted and joked around while waiting their turns. Today they were silent. A few looked at Rob, only to look away again quickly.

  One after another, the boys finished the runs and returned to the ends of the lines. Then it was Rob's turn. He dribbled quickly to the first cone, and then nudged the ball sideways with his right foot, sending it to the left of the cone. He caught the ball on the instep of his left foot and with a sharp tap, redirected it past the cone. Then he picked it up with his right foot again and continued on to the next cone. When he'd made it through all seven, he gave the ball a vicious kick and sent it spinning into the open net.

  He had just moved to retrieve the ball when wham! another ball slammed into his side.

  “Oof!” The impact sent the air whooshing out of his lungs.

  “Nice block.” Scott hurried into the net, grabbed his ball, and ran out again without another word.

  Rob picked up his own ball and returned to his line. As he did, he saw Scott glance over at him, nudge Arnold, and grin. Arnold looked at Rob, put his hands together, and gave him a mock-bow. Dmitri caught the move and started laughing.

  Rob flushed from his toes to his scalp. Then he felt someone tap him. “Yo, dude,” Raul said, pointing at the ball still in Rob's hands, “you gonna many that ball or you want to give it up so I can take my turn?”

  Embarrassed, Rob handed the ball to Raul, who placed it on the ground and took off through the cones.

  Scott, Dmitri, and Arnold started laughing again. Rob stared at his feet.

  The drill continued for several more minutes. Rob was beginning to wonder if the coach was planning to have them do the same thing for the entire practice. Then there was another whistle blast and Rob heard the coach call his name again.

  “Okay, Lasher, break them into two teams for a full-field scrimmage,” the big man said.

  “A scrimmage, coach?” Rob asked, surprised. When Coach Brennan ran a practice, he usually worked on a few skills first. Then, if there was time, he had the team scrimmage so they could practice those skills in a game situation.

  Coach Stan crossed his arms over his chest. “What, you got another idea?”

  Rob remembered several kinds of drills Coach Brennan used to run. But he couldn't tell if Coach Stan really wanted to hear his suggestions or not. And he wasn't too sure he wanted to suggest them, not with the whole team listening. So instead he just stammered, “Um, no sir. A scrimmage sounds great.”

  It wasn't great. In fact, it was a disaster.

  Rob had tried to make the teams even and to put players in the positions they were used to playing. Dmitri was in the center forward position. He faced Raul, whom Rob had put in the same position on the other team. On either side of Dmitri were Arnold and Scott. Behind him were two midfielders, Sam and Benji, and two fullbacks, Brendan and Ming. Raul had Leo to his left and Kirk to his right, Rob and Joey at midfield, and Bryan and Rudy at fullback.

  Coach Benoit put the ball in the center circle and stepped back. Nothing happened. “Right, forgot to blow my whistle,” the coach chuckled.

  “Uh, no, coach,” Rob called. “You should pick which side you want to start with the ball. Our old coach usually flipped a coin.”

  “Oh, okay!” The coach dug a coin from his pocket. “Heads, Rob's team gets the ball, tails the other side.” It came up heads.

  “Now I can blow my whistle, right?” Coach Benoit blew a blast before anyone could answer.

  Raul tapped the ball over to Leo. Leo started downfield at a fast clip, only to be stopped by Benji, who stripped the ball from him and sent it up to Dmitri. Dmitri flew across the center line, heading right toward Rob.

  Rob danced on his toes, trying to anticipate if Dmitri would dodge around him with the ball or pass off to a teammate before he reached him.

  Dmitri didn't do either. He continued straight for Rob. At the last moment, Rob had to jump out of the way or else be flattened! Only after Rob had moved did Dmitri send the ball to Scott — who, Rob saw, was standing right beside the net! Scott was obviously offside, but it was just as obvious that Coach Benoit didn't realize that.

  Scott caught the ball on his foot and with a vicious kick laced it into the net.

  “Well, well!” the coach cried, clapping madly. “Nice work, boys!”

  Dmitri drew alongside Rob. “Say, captain,” he drawled in a low voice. “You going let me get away with that? Or are you going to squeal to your new best friend, Mr. Auto Parts?”

  After that, the scrimmage went straight downhill, and not just because the coach didn't know the rules of the game. It was a disaster because half the players had decided to side with Dmitri. Whenever someone loyal to Dmitri got the ball, he made sure to work a play with another one of Dmitri's followers, excluding those who seemed more inclined to side with Rob.

  Of course, once the other players caught on, they started excluding any player who sided with Dmitri! It got so bad that when one of Rob's players got the ball, his followers on the opposite team would stand back and let him make the play — even if it meant watching their own teammates struggle to stop them.

  Thankfully, the practice ended sooner than usual.

  “What was going on out there?” Benji asked incredulously as he and Rob headed back to the locker room.

  “Isn't it obvious?” Rob spat. “Half of the team hates me!”

  “Why would they hate you?”

  Now Rob was incredulous. “Are you kidding? They hate me because the coach chose me to be captain instead of Dmitri. That stupid newspaper article is to blame! If he hadn't read it, he wouldn't have known me from any other player.”

  He gave Benji an angry look then. “Next time, Benji, check with me before you give my name to a reporter, okay?”

  Benji stared at him, openmouthed. “I didn't give your name to anyone, Rob! Honest!”

  The anger Rob felt left him like air leaving a balloon with a hole. “You didn't? How did that lady hear about what I did? And how come she knew we needed a coach?”

  “I don't know, Rob,” Benji said. “But it wasn't from me. I promise!”

  Rob was completely mystified. He'd been sure Benji had been the one to contact the reporter. But he put aside his curiosity about the article very soon. There were more important things to worry about — chiefly, how to get the team back on, track and how to turn Stan Benoit into a real coach!

  9

  Any hope Rob had that things would settle down on the team faded as the week went by. In fact, if anything, things got much worse. Part of the trouble was that Coach Stan continued to rely on Rob to help him. That just added fuel to Dmitri's fire, and to those of his followers. With the coach still not up to par with the game and half the players ignoring all Rob had to say, the season was beginning to look mighty grim.

  Then came their first game. They were playing against the Sharks. Rob expected that by the time the game ended, the Sharks would have sunk their sharp teeth into the Pirates more than once.

  The afternoon sun shone brightly on the field, making the chalk lines stand out crisp and white against the green grass.

  “At least we don't have to wear those awful T-shirts today,” Kirk Called to Rob a
s Rob ran onto the field. “I like this one much better!”

  Rob looked down at the black shirt with bold white lettering and nodded. That's something I think the whole team would agree with, he thought. I hope it's not the only thing, he added silently.

  Rob took his position at right midfield and looked at the forward line. Scott was in front of him, at right, Dmitri was at center, and Raul was on his left. Last year, those three had been a nearly unstoppable offensive force. But this year, Raul had sided with Rob, making Dmitri and Scott angry. Rob wondered if they would include Raul in their attacks on goal or if they would leave him to work alone, as they had done during practices.

  Then Rob glanced at his other midfielders, Joey and Benji. Joey was Dmitri's man all the way. Rob couldn't tell with Benji, however. Even though they were best friends, Benji hadn't thrown his hat in Rob's ring. He hadn't thrown it in Dmitri's either, however. In fact, now that Rob thought about it, Benji was probably the only player not to have chosen sides.

  Behind the midfielders were fullbacks Ming — a Dmitri supporter — and Brendan, who gave Rob a thumbs-up when he saw him looking at him. Bryan was in the goal.

  The Sharks won the toss and started off with a solid boot to right field. Rob and Joey double-teamed the right forward, but the Shark was too quick for them. He side-kicked the ball back to center before they had a chance to get it.

  “Come on, captain, what's your problem?” Dmitri shouted as he chased the Shark center forward. “How about you try helping your teammate for once?”

  Benji rushed over then and, before the Shark knew what was happening, stripped the ball from him and sent it to Raul in left field. Dmitri spun back and took off to join Raul in the attack.

  Rob, Joey, and Benji stayed alert, ready to act if a Shark got the ball and tried to move the play to the other half of the field.

  Raul made it deep into Shark territory before being threatened. He looked up, frantic to get rid of the ball. But Dmitri and Scott didn't seem interested in helping him. So Raul had no choice but to try to score. Unfortunately, he had a terrible angle on the goal. The ball floated through the air directly across the opening and bounced into the far corner, where a Shark fullback nabbed it. One kick later and the ball streaked down the left field line with the Shark left forward running after it.