The Underdogs by Mike Lupica

quickly as possible.
    He knew he was the only one here acting flustered. She was just staring at him with this calm face.
    â€œBefore you go, just honestly answer one question for me,” she said. “Do you, Will the Thrill, think I’m good enough to make the team?”
    Even though it was just the two of them, nobody else in sight, Will gave a quick look around. “Yeah,” he said. “I think you’d be good enough.”
    â€œSo why can’t I play on a team that needs players?”
    â€œYou’re gonna make me come out and say it, right?” Will said.
    She nodded.
    â€œYou can’t play because you’re a girl.”
    Now Hannah Grayson stood up, close to him, up in his space, maybe to show him she really was taller. Then she casually reached out and knocked his ball out of his hands.
    As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder and said, “You’re the girl.”

CHAPTER 13
    T hey got together as a team for the first time the next Saturday afternoon at Shea.
    No game jerseys yet, just the mesh practice jerseys New Balance had sent with the New Balance logo on the front, pads, pants, cleats. And helmets.
    The boxes had arrived at the Tyler house on Friday, and the guys had all come by on Saturday morning to try stuff on. By the time they were in the living room, boxes ripped open, packing paper scattered everywhere, it reminded Will Tyler a little bit of Christmas morning.
    Just bigger and louder and busier than any Christmas Will could remember. Most of the Christmases he’d ever experienced—not counting the one he’d spent in Florida with his mom’s parents, his only living grandparents—had been him and his dad.
    â€œSo this is what new equipment feels like when you get to take it home from the store,” Tim said, his helmet already on his head. “Not just feels like, but smells like.”
    â€œI thought that was just your body wash,” Will said.
    Tim said, “You know, I’ve always heard there’s a cruel side to great athletes.”
    Will put his own helmet on. “I just save it for you.”
    â€œLucky me,” Tim said.
    â€œNo,” Chris Aiello said. “Lucky us. ”
    They had passed the gear around, loving every minute of it, laughing and posing and even banging pads just for the fun of it. Like they really had found it under a tree.
    When they were done, Will noticed that there were four extra sets, of everything.
    When the guys were gone, Mr. Tyler having told them when to meet at Shea later, Will said to his dad, “Who’s going to wear the extra gear, our ghost players?”
    â€œListen,” his dad said, “the only one on this team with ghosts to worry about is me, and I’m gonna do my best to keep them under control. Or maybe get rid of them completely, if I’m the lucky one, by the end of the season.”
    â€œBe nice to fill out these uniforms,” Will said. “Because we still can’t field a team.”
    â€œHow about we just do this today?” Joe Tyler said. “How about we just get on that field as a team and go from there?”
    So now they were doing just that.
    They were kneeling in one of the end zones in front of Will’s dad, his dad wearing an old Forbes High School cap with a falcon on the front, gray sweatpants, an old Steelers sweatshirt.
    And, Will noticed, not sure that any of the other guys did, his dad was also wearing an old pair of black, high-top Forbes Flyers football cleats.
    With the wings.
    Will didn’t even know he still owned a pair. Didn’t know anybody still owned a pair, in Forbes or anywhere else.
    â€œNow Will knows this better than anyone,” his dad was saying. “I’m not much for making speeches. Not much of a talker, period. When I do talk to you guys, I’m gonna try to do it without shouting, because when I was a player, I didn’t want my coach shouting at me.”
    He