The Rivalry Read Online Free Page B

siren?”
    “Yes—they let us follow the Navy buses, so there’s a police escort with us. Talk soon.”
    He snapped the phone shut, shaking his head.
    “Sounds like she’s having fun,” Kelleher said, smiling.
    “She always has fun. Does anyone ever say no to Tamara or to her?”
    “Nope,” Kelleher said. “And that includes you and me.”
    *   *   *
    Anthony Noto and Jim Cantelupe looked like the ex–football players they were. Neither was that big, but both had broad shoulders and seemed like they were still in playing shape to Stevie, even though Noto was class of ’91, Cantelupe class of ’96.
    The two Army grads walked Kelleher and Stevie over to a spot not far from the statue of George Washington. As they got there, the giant doors of the building just beyond the statue opened and cadets began pouring out of them, most of them screaming and waving their arms. For a second, Stevie thought they had walked into the middle of a full-scale riot.
    “They assemble inside the mess hall, then race out here to get into formation just before the team arrives,” Noto explained. “It used to be we only did stuff like this the week of the Navy game. But Coach Ellerson wants to send the message that every game’s a big game and that the corps needs to be behind the team every week. So he started this send-off when he got here.”
    “Actually, I think they’ve done something like this for years,” Cantelupe said. “At least for road games.”
    While they were talking, most of the cadets were organizing themselves into rows; each of them seemed to know exactly where to stand. One group had broken off and had formed an alley of sorts that led to a walkway between the two buildings.
    “Plebes,” Noto said, and seeing Stevie’s expressionadded, “Freshmen. They form the cordon the players will walk through. Then the team assembles over here. And the buses are waiting for them over there.”
    At that moment a loud cheer went up and Stevie saw what had to be the football team, even though they were dressed in neat gray uniforms like everyone else. The plebes were going crazy cheering. The upperclassmen were joining in, though not quite as enthusiastically as the first-year cadets.
    Once everyone had walked through the cordon, the players assembled in front of the statue. Coach Rich Ellerson stepped to a microphone.
    “We aren’t going to take long,” he said, “but I want you all to know how much it means to us to see you assembled out here.”
    “As if they had any choice,” Kelleher whispered.
    “I think at Navy they call it ‘mandatory fun,’ ” Cantelupe said.
    Ellerson was still talking. “We’re playing a team tomorrow that has great athletes. We’re playing a team coached by a man who
used
to coach at Navy.”
    Boos erupted when Georgia Tech coach Paul Johnson’s ties to Navy were mentioned.
    Ellerson held his hands up for quiet. “A man who was
six and oh
against Army while at Navy.”
    The boos got considerably louder.
    “Tomorrow, we’re going to show Coach Johnson and his players that Army football isn’t what it used to be! We’re going to show him what Army football is
now
andgive his team a beating it won’t forget anytime soon! But we need
your
help! You are the twelfth man! Do
not
let down for one second tomorrow in the stands. I promise you we will
not
let down for one second on the field!”
    The cadets were whipped into a frenzy, and suddenly—or so it seemed to Stevie—the band appeared and began playing the Army fight song, “On, Brave Old Army Team.” Stevie knew a lot of college fight songs, and this was one of the best ones going. With the whole corps singing, he couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of the moment.
    When the final words of the song died away, the entire corps—all four thousand of them—finished with two words: “BEAT NAVY!”
    Then everyone surged forward to offer the players handshakes and pats on the back as they headed for the