Black Diamond

half, and already Lespinasse was quietly being sick on the sideline, Stéphane was down on one knee, and Raoul was wheezing like an ancient locomotive going up a steep hill.
    Bruno looked across at the youngsters with irritation. He’d trained these boys so they ought to be playing better than this. They were letting the old men use their advantages of weight and strength and relying too much on the speed of their running. That wasn’t the smart tactic. Against a slower, heavier team, Bruno had drilled into them that the right strategy was to kick the ball down the field and force the heavier team to run and run until they dropped. And Bruno was fond enough of his pupils to want them to play the intelligent way, even if it meant exhaustion and defeat for his own team.
    He lined up again to receive the kickoff, and this time theball came directly to him. But young Edouard was almost on him, so Bruno turned half sideways and punted the ball with a long, looping kick. As they lined up to take the throw-in, Bruno stood behind Stéphane, who turned to face him. Bruno kept his eye on the young player who was to throw the ball. As it left the youth’s hands he shouted, “Now!” and ran forward, jumping into the air. Stéphane grabbed him around the thighs and boosted him upward so that Bruno towered above the line and plucked the ball from the air.
    Still held upright in Stéphane’s mighty grip, Bruno faked a pass to Pierrot, and the youngsters began to peel away. But then Stéphane dropped him gently, and with the rest of the pack at his heels Bruno broke through the opponent’s line still holding the ball and pounded for the goalposts with nobody to stop him. But he was tiring now and slower than he had been, and as he dived for the goal line he felt the fullback crash into his side, rolling him over. But the ball was firm in his hands, and then the goalpost was smashing hard into his back as he planted the ball for another score.
    Winded and bruised, Bruno lay on his back with his eyes closed and waited for Louis to come by with his magic sponge. He no longer felt the cold. His body was glowing with heat. But the strongest sensation was a deep tiredness until Jules the gendarme thumped down beside him, and the ice-cold sponge was in his face and then thrust down the back of his shirt.
    “Nice run, Bruno,” Jules said. “You okay?”
    “I’ll live,” he said, rolling over and hauling himself to his feet. Louis gave the back of Bruno’s neck a final wipe with the sponge, and Bruno trotted back to his team.
    “Time to give us others a chance,” Pons said curtly whenBruno arrived. “A few of you are hogging the ball. You can’t keep all the glory to yourselves.”
    Bruno stared at him in disbelief. Raoul spat angrily, and Lespinasse said, making a joke of it, “Glory? You’re playing the wrong game, pal.” Stéphane dropped a heavy arm onto Pons’s shoulder and said softly, “Don’t be a fool.” Pons stomped off.
    After halftime, with the rain coming down steadily, the game began to stall in the mud. It was a relief to the older men, for whom a slower game meant an easier game, but then the youngsters scored twice. They now did what they should have been doing all along, punting the ball into open space and using their speed to follow it. But this time the ball was bouncing unevenly, and they couldn’t take it cleanly, and Bruno had the time to charge across and tackle their player just as he picked up the rolling ball from the ground, jolting the ball from the youngster’s grip. Bruno grabbed it to his chest and rolled himself into a ball as the feet of a dozen players thundered around and over him.
    Lespinasse looked sourly at Pons and called, loudly enough for spectators to hear, “Hey, beautiful. Where were you, pretty boy? Stopping that player was your job.”
    Pons colored, and his eyes flashed angrily. After the scrum, Pierrot darted around to the blind side, plucked the ball from the ground and passed it to Pons. He took off like a frightened gazelle, with just Bruno and a teammate trying to keep up with him.
    Bruno was about five yards behind Pons, running flat-out, two opponents just coming into view and going full steam, when Pons shouted, “Bruno” and passed the ball to him. Completely surprised, Bruno just managed to catch the ballwhen the two defenders slammed into him, one at his ankles and the other at his chest, their weight and his own speed pile-driving him hard into the