Runaway Cleats

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Gavis took it on the eight and got just over the twenty before he was dumped. On the first play, running from the T. Shelevat went wide on a naked reverse. I had plowed deep and come up in their backfield, but I was too far off the play for anybody to bother with a block.

It looked good for at least five. Maybe more. But a wide little chunk of meat traveling at terminal velocity hit Skimmer Shelevat across the thighs in the process of nearly tearing him apart, drove him back inside the twenty.

The wide little chunk of meat, Ferris Gallahan — Sir Gallahan — bounced up and yelled to Big Hunk, “You like that?”

Big Hunk, the assistant line coach, was carrying the whistle on the scrimmage. He had a sour, amused look on his wide face.

“You’re wonderful, kid!” he said.

Shelevat bounced a few times to make sure he still had legs. He towered over Sir Gallahan. He spat, looked down at Gallahan, and said, “What was that school again, kid?”

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