Tough to Tackle Read Online Free PDF

the Starbirds’ fourth touchdown.
     Theyfailed to score the point after, but they didn’t need it.
    The Apollos carried the kickoff to their own thirty-nine and moved the pigskin like a machine across midfield to the Starbirds’
     nineteen. Bud unleashed a long bomb that sailed in a beautiful arc directly into Pete Ellis’s waiting hands, and the little
     end went over for a touchdown.
    Leo’s kick was good. But there were only two minutes left to play and they weren’t enough. The Starbirds won, 27 to 14.
    “Well, Boots, old boy,” said Duck as they started off the field. “I guess you’re not so hot on the football field, are you?”
     He was carrying his helmet under his right arm. His hair was like a wet, matted rug.
    Boots yanked off his helmet and brushed back his sweat-drenched hair. “I never said I was.”
    Duck chuckled. “No, but you wish you could be.”
    The remark stung and Boots glared at Duck. “Thanks a lot.”
    “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “That’s okay.”
    They walked along in silence for a while, Boots mulling over Duck’s remark:
No, but you wish you could be
. He might as well have said that I want to show off, thought Boots.
    He had heard Dad talk about “grandstand players,” athletes who try to impress the crowd. Is that what Duck thought he’d like
     to do? If so, a lot of the other players on the team probably did, too.
    Just because he preferred to play quarterback rather than any other position. Just because playing quarter-back would put
     him in the middle of plays all the time.
    He was no show-off, no matter what Duck or anybody else said. If he seemed to appearthat way, he didn’t mean it. Thinking back, he realized that he must have seemed to appear that way quite a lot.
    “See you later,” said Duck, and ran across the street in the direction of his home.
    “Yeah,” said Boots. He saw several people standing on the next corner. Mom, Dad, Gail, and the Davises, Bud’s parents, were
     waiting for him.
    “Tough game to lose, wasn’t it?” said Dad as Boots reached them and they started to walk homeward.
    “Yes,” said Boots glumly.
    Mr. Davis smiled. He was tall, even taller than Dad, with prematurely white hair.
    “You played a good game, Boots,” Mrs. Davis said excitedly. “I think you boys would’ve won if the game had lasted a little
     longer.”
    Mr. Davis chuckled. “That’s the way it usually is for the loser, isn’t it, Boots?”
    Boots forced a grin. “I guess so,” he said.
    “Do you like playing tackle?” asked Mr. Davis.
    Boots shrugged. “I’m not crazy about it,” he replied honestly.
    “Pretty tough, isn’t it?”
    “Yes. But I suppose they’re all tough.”
    “Do you know which position Bud thinks is the toughest, Boots?” inquired Mrs. Davis.
    He grinned. “Quarterback, I suppose.”
    “No. Tackle! A lot of running plays are through tackle, he says. So whether you’re on the offensive or defensive you have
     to work harder than any other member on the team.”
    Boots listened, surprised. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said. “Bud works pretty hard, too. Calling the right signals
     isn’t easy.”
    Bud was a broadminded kid. He’d think of things like that.
    After supper Boots read Tom’s letter again. Reading it was almost like having Tom in the room with him, talking to him.
    I’m really glad to hear you’re playing on the line. Playing guard and tackle are two tough, responsible positions. It’s the
     line that makes a team what it really is
.
    You can say that again, brother, thought Boots. Look how the other guys and I played on the line today. It’s a wonder we weren’t
     beaten worse than we were.
    Good luck to the Apollos. And let me hear from you again. Love, Tom
.
    Boots folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. He sure missed his brother. How long had he been gone? Two months?
     Three? It was closer to four, he realized.
    He returned downstairs and found Momand Dad in