23 Blast

1

Black, 22.

Black, 22!

Set!

You there.

What's your name?

You Freddie?

Freddie, I'm guessing you

never played football.

I want you to take a look at

your buddies down the bench.

Go on. Now do you see any

difference between you and them?

Nothing? Not a thing?

- What's your name, son?

- Ashley.

Ashley?

Ashley.

Ashley, can you tell

Freddie what's wrong?

Your shoulder pads.

They go under your shirt.

It's going to be a long season.

I loved that 1982 team.

Championship game

was incredible.

I was on the sidelines.

And why can't we do that again?

- Do what?

- Win a championship.

You've won one, why not two?

I've won two,

but who's counting...

Coach just take over

for a minute right?

All right, you heard the coach.

Form two, two lines over there.

Mr. Marshall agrees,

together, we can do it.

Weren't you going to get me

a beverage or something?

Oh, yeah, I'll get your soda.

Did you say diet?

No.

No, of course not. Stupid of me.

Diet. Stupid.

I'll be right back!

What was that?

A pain in my neck, mainly.

He teaches math over

at the middle school.

Yeah, well, he's

the new Athletic Director now.

- You kidding?

- I wish I was.

Well, how in heck

did that happen?

Well, some bull about

the board wanting

a football program

succession plan.

Huh.

It doesn't hurt

that his uncle's on the board.

Oh.

Quarterbacks,

I don't need you to fire it.

Freddie, let's fix those pads.

Hi, I'm Travis.

- I'm Jerry.

- Can you throw?

Can you catch?

They aim to replace me.

What? Are they firing you?

No, Willard, I'm retiring.

They just want to

name my successor.

What they don't realize is,

I already know who

the next football coach

at Corbin is going to be.

- And I'm looking at him.

- Me?

Willard, do you want to coach Pee

Wee league the rest of your life?

I want you to go at about fifty

percent, just a little jog, okay.

Hut.

Travis, that's too fast.

- Whoa!

- Ooh!

- Wow!

- That'll do.

- Who're those boys?

- That's boy's name is Travis Freeman.

- He's, um, Jerry Baker.

- Here, Coach.

Now those two boys

were born to play football.

Running backs and straight ahead, you

can run a straight line can't you?

- Yes, sir!

- What's this play called?

- 23 Blast!

- Why do we call it that?

The 2 back runs

through the 3 hole!

All right, bring it in.

One, two, three...

Red Hounds! All right, let's go.

- Travis.

- Yes, coach.

- Does Jerry know the plays?

- Uhh, yeah, pretty much.

Well, you know 'em real good.

So you'll help him out, right?

23 Blast! 23 Blast!

And 23 Blast!

Ready! Break!

Fingertips!

Down!

Cameron, get your butt down!

Set! Hut!

Whoo! Travis, meet at the top.

I don't know why Coach Farris

puts up with you, but I will not.

I don't want to lose this, Mr. Duncan.

You know what this is?

If I find contraband, Mr. Baker,

I will have you expelled.

No, sir, this is an article

about my friend, here.

"Travis Freeman, the Redhound

star everything man,

has his team on the

fast track to the..."

Empty your pockets.

"He catches touchdowns,

he runs for touchdowns,

he's the heart and soul of the team.

Blah blah, blah."

Nothing about the handsome

quarterback, Jerry Baker.

Why is that, Mr. Duncan?

Because you're

not worth writing about.

- Mr. Freeman.

- Yes sir?

I suggest you find new friends, you

don't want to end up in prison.

One day you're

going to go too far!

He's been after

me since 5th grade.

He used to say I was

cheating in Math.

- You were cheating in Math.

- I didn't cheat!

- You copied off my paper.

- Yeah. Off of you.

That's friends.

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