In the locker room, at halftime, while out on the field the Sawyersville band and the Majorettes put on their show, Tiger gave the team hell. Ponce hoped to God it would ring a bell. Ben Shingle had slipped into the locker room, Ponce observed. He was tucked in a comer, out of everyone’s way, but, Ponce knew, taking everything in. Ponce almost grinned. He had been pretty thrilled to hear about him, not to mention actually meeting him, for who was a more famous and celebrated writer than he? He was a real nice guy too, that was the best part of it. And no doubt about it. Ponce had talked to him quite a lot, since his arrival. Especially since he had moved into Tiger’s house. He had encouraged him a lot. He had even said he would try to help him. And that was great. Now he did give a grin, the best he could under the circumstances, and nodded to him, for he had caught his eye. Tiger didn’t seem to see him. He was before the team, pacing back and forth, not saying a thing—yet. He called to Ponce. He had a little talk with him. Then—he pitched in—
“Just what were you guys playing out there? Hopscotch? What do I have—a Hopscotch team? Where the heli is my team? Are you here? Where are you guys now? Out in space? WELL GET BACK DOWN HERE! You know who you are? WHAT you are? We’re playing Football! Know what that is? Remember? You played it last week—and the week before—and all of last year—Just Like A Sawyersville Team/ You know what that is? You Guys Are That TeamI Know that? Well I’m reminding you of that—Alright? Because you sure as hell didn’t look like you knew it out there—AT ALL! Not At All! GET ON THE BALL! Get hold of it, and hang on to it! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU HAVE TWO QUARTERS TO PROVE IT! What kind of blocking was that, you guys on the line? Beep —I’m surprised at you! Was That You? What about you, Al? And you, and you—Joe—Cal—HOLY COW! You oughta be able to push those jerks back a mile—A MILE: RIGHT OUT OF THE STADIUM! All I’m asking is that you open some holes. What’s Pope supposed to do? Run through a Wall? What about Feef? JESUS, LOOK AT HIM! You just about KILLED him. And Dink! How many passes has he got off? Huh? WHAT’S UP? WHAT THE HELL’S UP? Is this My Club? What’s the Score? Don’t you want me as coach anymore? HELL, I DONT CARE! I’ll quit right now if that’s what you want! IS THAT THE SCORE? And your Defense! WOW! They push you around like toys! You’re outfoxed every time! EVERY PLAY! The holes are big enough to get a tank through. A Tank! What’s up? What’s bothering you? Don’t blame it on the Practices we missed! DONT TRY THAT! You oughta beat that gang with NO PRACTICES AT ALL! Know That? Well, / sure know that! Let me tell you! WHO DOESNT KNOW THAT? What’s Up? What’s got you down? ARE YOU TIGERS OR ZOMBIES? You LOOK like ZOMBIES! What is it? The troubles got you down? All those sad events got you collared and down, way down, right right down? Is that it? Listen: Those girls would want you to win—All of them—to play ball like a Sawyers-vrlle team—Know that? Look at all Jill did for you! And Yvonne! Jeannie! Think of Jeannie! Remember that girl? WELL WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR THEM!
All of them/ И1 tell you: SITTING FLAT! Flat! ON THE MAT! If they could see you now—you look like a bunch of zombie jerks. JERKS! You want this to be a JERK TOWN? That what you want? Like Carverton? There’s a jerk town if ever there was one? WHAT A TOWN! You know it! AND THEY’RE KNOCKING HELL OUT OF YOU! How many will they rack up? What about us? If you get out there and played ball—rough—tough—Real Football—If you charged like the Tigers you are—AND NOT ZOMBIES—if you blocked—ran—opened those holes—IF YOU PROTECTED DINK!” He paused, just an instant, hitting the highest crescendo yet—“WHAT A SCORE! WHAT ONE HELL OF A SCORE! A REAL TIGERS SCORE! You wouldn’t even HEAR of Carverton anymore! They’d quit the League! Like they ought to! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO? It’s Up To You! I can’t come out there and play for you! Ponce here can’t do it for you! ITS UP TO YOU! ALL OF YOU! Look how you screwed up his plays! Those are GREAT plays! Think of those girls! AT LEAST PLAY FOR THEM!” He paused, he thumped his hand on a table—“ROARI" The whole team roared, Ponce roared, he had been electrified by the talk, he roared and roared, he had never heard such a talk, he even thought he saw Mr. Shingle roar, “ROARГ They roared and roared, the room shook with their roars, Ponce was sure of the score, Tiger hit the table again, and again—“ROAR! The walls would fall down with the roars—“TIGERS— ROAR!” ROAR! NO PUSSYFOOTING AROUND ANYMORE!” Ponce was drowned in the roars.., .
In the second half, they scored thirty-five points, Carverton—none.
Surcher and Ben Shingle watched a spectacular display of awesome and dazzling Sawyersville might. Everything clicked just right Their stands roared, the band blared, the cheerleaders turned a thousand cartwheels. At the end, Surcher and Shingle, standing up in a sea of roaring, saw Ponce and Tiger carried off the field—high on the team’s shoulders—the band blared—Majorettes’ batons flew high in the air—it was a wild scene of pure jubilation—one vast, wild roaring—
Ben Shingle, turning to Surcher, made himself heard somehow—
“Jesus."
Surcher grinned.
Broadly. . . .
Ponce, smiling and happy, on top of the world, after the game, was in Tiger’s office. The joy and jubilation, the noise and happy horseplay of the locker room still rang in his ears. He had gone to the office at Tiger’s request—to put some football folders and other items away in the files for him, for Tiger's wife was waiting for him outside in the car and he didn’t have time for it “Do that thing for me, Ponce, thanks—” He had told him. Ponce of course had been only too happy to do so. This had been quite the day. He had really thought, in that first half, Sawyersville had finally reached the end of the line. He was absolutely amazed, and of course mighty proud of, the way things had gone in the second half. Nothing went wrong! Practically every play ate up yardage! Dink and Jim had clicked beautifully! Jerry had snaked sixty-five yards for one, Pope fifty-yards for another, Feef twenty-five, after breaking through like a bulldozer, Dink and Jim got the other two. Beauties! What beauties! Perfect! Each one had thrilled the stands, which had gone wild. Twice in the third quarter and once in the fourth Ponce had improvised new moves, and Tiger had approved, and sent them in right away—and they had clicked. It was on that first one that Jerry had got away. They had danced for joy—-Tiger, Ponce, the whole bench! What a run! What a day! Some day. And Carverton had been stopped cold, stone cold. Ponce really had loved the day. And now here he was, putting things away, in Tiger’s office, for that terrific guy, the top high-school coach in the country, without a doubt, among other things, so many things, Ponce knew, whose assistant one day he would be, just wait and see. Ponce, smiling away, thinking so many things, stood before the filing cabinet and started filing away. There didn’t seem to