Cody's Varsity Rush Read Online Free PDF Page B

right?”
    â€œRight—but—” Cody felt the question forming in his mind. It was a question he had wondered about for the past few football seasons, and he really wanted it answered. But , he warned himself, this is a question that could also get you concussed by the best middle linebacker in the state .
    â€œBut?” Clark’s voice was soft, patient. Nothing like the voice that commanded the Eagles in pregame warm-ups or practices. Cody allowed his gaze to fall on the figure in front of him. Especially in this light, Clark, with his boyish, rounded face, looked more like an extra from a Nickelodeon kids’ show than the guy Pork Chop called “The Baddest Man in Shoulder Pads.” If you saw just his head shot in a yearbook, Cody surmised, you’d think he was harmless—until you saw that head was attached to a professional wrestler’s body.
    Cody swallowed. He could feel Clark’s eyes on him. “It’s just that I’ve been watching you for a long time now. And when you make a big play—sack the QB or pick off a pass—you don’t point at the sky. And when you score a TD, you don’t kneel in the end zone like some of the guys in college and the pros do. I mean, you say you have to give God his props, but—”
    Cody paused. Clark was staring at him, studying him. This is great, Cody Martin , he scolded himself. It ’ s months until wrestling season. That means once Clark kills you, they won ’ t even find the body for a long, long time. Oh, well, if I gotta get killed, I guess I ’ d rather it be by Brendan Clark than Gabe Weitz. At least Clark ’ s a legend, not a loser.
    Clark was chuckling softly. “You know, I think I will believe you that I had twenty tackles tonight, no matter what the stat boy says. You’re an observant guy. You know, no one else has noticed what you have. In fact, I’ve heard people say I actually do the kind of stuff you’re talking about. They just assume I do all that demonstrative stuff because I’m a Christian.”
    Cody wanted to do something demonstrative at the moment—drop to his knees and thank God for sparing his life. But he wanted an answer to his question first, although he wasn’t sure he had, in fact, asked a question.
    He looked up from the wrestling mat when he heard Clark clear his throat. “So, Cody,” the linebacker said, “here’s the deal—if I may?”
    Cody shrugged, embarrassed. “Sure. I mean, I’m interested—”
    Clark smiled. “Do you think God cares who wins football games?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you think he cares about tackle stats, touchdowns, who makes the all-state team?”
    Cody wagged his head.
    â€œNeither do I. See, all I think God cares about is who honors him. That’s all I try to do in football, in the classroom, in life. When I get an A on a test, I don’t point to the sky or kneel in prayer in the chemistry lab. So why would I do that kind of thing on the field? Never have. Never will. You feelin’ what I’m sayin’?”
    Cody shifted his feet. “I think so, but those other guys—the ones who do celebrate—”
    â€œI’m not dissing them. As long as they do what they do to honor God, not bring attention to themselves, I’m cool with it.”
    Cody felt his head nodding in agreement. Clark reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Well, it’s been good kickin’ it with you, Cody. I gotta hit the showers. You keep the faith, okay?”
    â€œOkay,” Cody said, but he didn’t know if Clark heard him. Clark was already sprinting across the wrestling room toward the lockers.

    The following Monday’s practice began with Coach Morgan addressing the whole team, freshmen included. “I’ll make this brief,” he said. “Winston Lydell and Avery Lynn are no longer part of this football team. They