Carter Finally Gets It Read Online Free Page A

to mimic a guy holding the ball after it’s hiked. I built this triangle device out of a blue plastic oar that came with my inflatable boat. I cut it into three pieces and duct taped it all together. It works a lot better than EJ ever did, but I’m pretty screwed the next time I want to use that boat. I’ll just row around in a circle with my one oar. But by next summer I’ll be so famous as a kicker that no one will care that I’m rowing in a circle all the time.
    My contraption works so awesome, I’m probably going to make a whole bunch of them and sell them to the NFL for millions of dollars. I mean, how much money would they save by not having to pay a guy to hold the ball for the kicker all the time? How many kickers out there right now are waiting for their holder to show up? And he might not hold it steady if and when he does finally show up. He might try to make a Charlie Brown joke when you go to kick it (Bag), and pull the ball away just as you’re about to blast the sucker fifty yards. Instead of glory, you fly up in the air and smash down to the ground on your butt in agonizing, humiliating pain. Or he might run off after only three kicks to chase a butterfly (EJ). If you’re going to be a famous kicker, you can’t have distractions. You’ve got to be focused.
    So the ball’s all set up. I take three steps back and two steps to the left, like they do on TV. I stare the ball down like it’s an old enemy who has come a great distance to fight me again. I’ll smash the WILSON off this ball! I’ll split the stitches. This piece of leather is going to regret the day it was made into a football and not, like, a coat or pair of shoes. (It may not actually be leather, it’s probably Naugahyde or pleather or something.)
    After about ten minutes of staring at this stupid ball and getting psyched up, I realize I’ve been standing here spacing off and staring at a football for ten minutes. I take my first step with great purpose; the second step is even better than the first. I plant my foot really close to the ball. I cock my foot back like the most powerful ninja of all time. I close my eyes and swing my leg through with all the force I have. I feel my foot collide hard with something other than Naugahyde, and I hear the crunch and tear of duct tape. I open my eyes to see my kicking contraption flying through the air in pieces. It flies for about five yards and tumbles to the ground in a heap. The ball is just lying there untouched. Whoops. I guess you’ve got to keep your eyes open.
    I should just pack this crap up and go to the pool, but that would be pretty weak even for me. So I tape the device back together and set it up again. I keep my eyes open this time and kick the ball about ten yards, straight to the left. An imaginary referee laughs at me and makes the sign for “No good.” Ugh, this is pointless! I’m going to the pool. But as I’m packing up my balls, I hear my mom’s voice (she’s not following me or anything, I just hear her in my head. Like the imaginary referee). “Carter, nothing good comes easy,” she says. “Adversity is just opportunity in work clothes.”
    The next ball goes about ten yards again, but this time it’s straight. And straight is good! The imaginary referee lifts his arms high above his head and yells, “It’s good!” It’s not far enough to be good for much, but it’s a start. And each time I kick, the ball’s going a little bit farther than the last. It’s not going fifty yards yet. I don’t think it’s going even twenty. To be honest, I’m not sure how far a yard is, but if I practice every day, I’ll be hitting them from fifty yards easy.

4. GINORMOUS Struggle!
    Pre-football workouts begin for incoming freshmen. The older guys have been working out all summer, so we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. The coaches show us how to lift the weights properly, but I don’t need any help. My dad and I have worked out at the community center five times