The Underdogs by Mike Lupica Page A

moved slowly up and down in front of them as he spoke. No limp today.
    â€œYou guys don’t need me to tell you how much we’ve overcome already, and how much we’re going to have to overcome,” he said. “Starting with the fact that we obviously need players. But one thing an old coach of mine did use to tell me was that you can only coach the players you have. So let’s start there. Let’s not worry today about what we don’t have. Let’s see what we do have. Okay?”
    As if on cue the players in front of Joe Tyler said, “Okay!”
    Shouting at the coach who said he wasn’t going to, shouting like they meant it.
    â€œIn case anybody has any doubts, we are gonna play this season,” he said. “And if that means lining up ten guys in our first game, then that’s what we’re gonna do. It may sound crazy, but I checked with the league and there’s no rule written down that says we have to play eleven. In basketball, if you foul out a bunch of guys, you play with four.”
    Tim raised his hand. It was the first time Will could ever remember him asking for permission to speak.
    â€œSo we’re going to let the rest of the league be on like a power play in hockey?”
    â€œUntil we get reinforcements.”
    â€œBut what if we don’t?” Will said. “Get reinforcements, I mean.”
    â€œIf we don’t, we’re just gonna have to play bigger than we are. Which is what we’re gonna have to do whether we get reinforcements or not. What we will do. To my way of thinking, it’s still one of the best things about sports: you take a bunch of guys, different talents, egos, attitudes, different love for the game. And sometimes, if you really are lucky, they all get on the same page and do something greater than they ever thought they could.”
    He looked at every face in front of him now, one by one. Will. Tim. Chris. Jeremiah. Wes Blabey. Johnny Callahan. Gerry Dennis. Matt Connors. Ernie Accorsi. Jake Cantor.
    â€œWe’re gonna be that kind of team,” Joe Tyler said, “no matter how shorthanded we are.”
    He clapped his hands together.
    â€œOkay,” he said, “the meet and greet is over. We’ll just do some basic stuff today. Blocking fundamentals, tackling fundamentals. Got a couple of drills that won’t be too boring. Then we’ll walk through some basic plays on offense, just to see what we’ve got. And run some pass routes, see who’s got enough arm to be our quarterback, because Will told me about Bobby leaving town. So let’s get to it. This team might not have the most practice time in the world this season, but the time we do have together, we’re gonna make it count.”
    Watching his dad walk and talk and make his points and get his message across, Will thought: Not bad for a non-talker.
    â€œOh, I almost forgot,” Joe Tyler said, “one more thing before we get to work, and I’m wide open to suggestions: what do we call ourselves?”
    Right away, guys were shouting out various nicknames. Johnny Callahan actually did say, “Forbes Flyers!” But Chris came right back at him, saying, “We may be shorthanded, but that sounds too much like a hockey team.” Jeremiah, a Yankees fan, threw “Yankees” out there but got hooted down.
    It went on this way for a few minutes, Giants being rejected and Lions, for the Penn State Nittany Lions, until Will stood up, grinning.
    â€œAre we done here?” he said. “Because if we are, I’ve been holding back the perfect name.”
    Now he was the one looking at his teammates, saying, “We call ourselves the Bulldogs.”
    â€œLike the Georgia Bulldogs?” Tim said.
    â€œNope,” he said. “The Forbes Bulldogs. We all know we’re going to be underdogs this season, probably in every game we play. I say we go with it. My dad has always talked about the