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He shouldn't have been able to hear it, not over the screams from the crowd going wild over the game-winning touchdown,
not over the chant from the cheerleaders only a few feet away on the sidelines.
'Do it, Do it, Do-tee Again!' had been dinning in his ears for the last hour every time the rival quarterback got his hands on the ball.
And every time Tommy Dowty took off his helmet for a drink of Gatorade, he had grinned at Ernest. He was trying to get Ernest's goat, and he did.
Ernie the Firedragon, nicknamed for his hair (his friends said),
his temper (everyone else said) had been breathing fire and trying to get at Dowty with nothing more on his mind than ripping him apart.
Dowty's team had been too good at protecting him, up until now, when the game was for all intents and purposes over, and besides, it was against the rules to tackle after the touchdown.
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