lacrosse team.Garry was pretty sure Todd wasn't the only newcomer to the sport there today. But compared with the other boys, Todd was the
least athletic-looking. The protective pads he wore on his arms and shoulders only made him look that much bulkier. Garry
wondered if his brother would survive even the first week.
“Hello, boys, and welcome to practice!” A booming voice interrupted Garry's thoughts. He turned to see a man and a boy jogging
toward them. Both carried lacrosse sticks and looked so much alike that they were clearly father and son. The father wore
a sweatshirt with their team name, “Rockets,” across the front. He took out a clipboard, and the son joined Garry and the
rest of the team.
“My name is Fred Hasbrouck, but you can call me Coach,” the man said. “As some of you know, your old coach retired after lastseason. I understand that that season was a phenomenal one for this team. First place in the division!” He nodded appreciatively.
“Well, many of last year's players have moved up to the next division, but that doesn't mean this team won't be just as strong.”
He looked at his clipboard. “Now, let's see who you are.” He started to read down a list of names.
“Anderson?”
“Here, Coach!”
“Backus?”
“Yo!”
“Donofrio?”
Silence. The coach looked up. “Donofrio?” he repeated.
“Yeah, right here,” came a voice from behind the coach.
Garry stared in surprise, then smiled with delight. He hadn't realized that Michael Donofrio was on his team!
Michael was a seventh-grader, like Todd. When Garry had started playing lacrosse in fourth grade, Michael had been on his
team. He'd been one of the better players then, and Garry figured he had to be just as good now.
Garry raised a hand in greeting. Michael nodded and moved to the spot next to him. Evan Fitzgerald, the boy who had been standing
there, shifted to make room for him.
“Mr. Donofrio, in the future please be on time for practices,” the coach said.
Michael shot a finger gun at him. “Gotcha,” he said.
Coach Hasbrouck raised an eyebrow, then shook his head slightly and continued down his list. Garry sounded off when his name
was called, as did Todd.
Michael stared down the line, then jabbed Garry in the ribs. “Your brother's here too?” he whispered. “Man, I didn't even
recognize him! Is it the pads that make him look sofat, or is that he's gotten a little tubby?” He chuckled. “Yeah, that's it, Tubby Todd! Tub-eee Todd. T.T. for short!”
Evan snickered. “Good one, bro,” he said. “You crack me up!”
Michael gave Garry a half smile. After a moment, Garry laughed too.
Then Coach Hasbrouck called for their attention, and Garry's first practice as a Junior Division lacrosse player began.
2
T he coach started them off with some simple stretches, then had them do push-ups and leg lifts. “The stronger your bodies are,
the better the lacrosse players you'll be,” he told them. “And because speed and stamina are essential too, let's see you
do three laps around the field. Come on, I'll lead the way”
There were some groans, but everyone took off after Coach Hasbrouck. After two laps, Garry was breathing hard. Michael, he
noticed, looked as if he could go another three times around without breaking a sweat. He glanced over his shoulder to see
how hisbrother was doing—then quickly turned back. Todd was bringing up the rear and looked like a bear cub lumbering along on two
legs.
When the laps were finished, Coach Hasbrouck had them pair off for catching and throwing drills. “Helmets on, everyone, and
mouth guards in. Those of you new to lacrosse, try to find a partner who knows what he's doing. Make two lines facing each
other about ten yards apart.”
“Wallis, you're with me,” Michael said.
“Garry
Wallis, that is,” he added with a frown when Todd took a step toward him. “I came here to play lacrosse, not babysit a newbie.”
Garry saw
least athletic-looking. The protective pads he wore on his arms and shoulders only made him look that much bulkier. Garry
wondered if his brother would survive even the first week.
“Hello, boys, and welcome to practice!” A booming voice interrupted Garry's thoughts. He turned to see a man and a boy jogging
toward them. Both carried lacrosse sticks and looked so much alike that they were clearly father and son. The father wore
a sweatshirt with their team name, “Rockets,” across the front. He took out a clipboard, and the son joined Garry and the
rest of the team.
“My name is Fred Hasbrouck, but you can call me Coach,” the man said. “As some of you know, your old coach retired after lastseason. I understand that that season was a phenomenal one for this team. First place in the division!” He nodded appreciatively.
“Well, many of last year's players have moved up to the next division, but that doesn't mean this team won't be just as strong.”
He looked at his clipboard. “Now, let's see who you are.” He started to read down a list of names.
“Anderson?”
“Here, Coach!”
“Backus?”
“Yo!”
“Donofrio?”
Silence. The coach looked up. “Donofrio?” he repeated.
“Yeah, right here,” came a voice from behind the coach.
Garry stared in surprise, then smiled with delight. He hadn't realized that Michael Donofrio was on his team!
Michael was a seventh-grader, like Todd. When Garry had started playing lacrosse in fourth grade, Michael had been on his
team. He'd been one of the better players then, and Garry figured he had to be just as good now.
Garry raised a hand in greeting. Michael nodded and moved to the spot next to him. Evan Fitzgerald, the boy who had been standing
there, shifted to make room for him.
“Mr. Donofrio, in the future please be on time for practices,” the coach said.
Michael shot a finger gun at him. “Gotcha,” he said.
Coach Hasbrouck raised an eyebrow, then shook his head slightly and continued down his list. Garry sounded off when his name
was called, as did Todd.
Michael stared down the line, then jabbed Garry in the ribs. “Your brother's here too?” he whispered. “Man, I didn't even
recognize him! Is it the pads that make him look sofat, or is that he's gotten a little tubby?” He chuckled. “Yeah, that's it, Tubby Todd! Tub-eee Todd. T.T. for short!”
Evan snickered. “Good one, bro,” he said. “You crack me up!”
Michael gave Garry a half smile. After a moment, Garry laughed too.
Then Coach Hasbrouck called for their attention, and Garry's first practice as a Junior Division lacrosse player began.
2
T he coach started them off with some simple stretches, then had them do push-ups and leg lifts. “The stronger your bodies are,
the better the lacrosse players you'll be,” he told them. “And because speed and stamina are essential too, let's see you
do three laps around the field. Come on, I'll lead the way”
There were some groans, but everyone took off after Coach Hasbrouck. After two laps, Garry was breathing hard. Michael, he
noticed, looked as if he could go another three times around without breaking a sweat. He glanced over his shoulder to see
how hisbrother was doing—then quickly turned back. Todd was bringing up the rear and looked like a bear cub lumbering along on two
legs.
When the laps were finished, Coach Hasbrouck had them pair off for catching and throwing drills. “Helmets on, everyone, and
mouth guards in. Those of you new to lacrosse, try to find a partner who knows what he's doing. Make two lines facing each
other about ten yards apart.”
“Wallis, you're with me,” Michael said.
“Garry
Wallis, that is,” he added with a frown when Todd took a step toward him. “I came here to play lacrosse, not babysit a newbie.”
Garry saw
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