NC EOG Reading Review

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

Which statement summarizes the theme of the selection?

• Generous acts are rewarded.

• Accept others’ differences.

• Be unafraid to try new things.

• Do not be upset by past mistakes.

Tags

CCSS.RL.4.2

CCSS.RL.4.9

CCSS.RL.5.2

CCSS.RL.5.9

CCSS.RL.6.2

In the sentence below, what does the word shabbily mean?

“Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed.”

A costly

B fancy

C poorly

D trendy

• Costly

• Fancy

• Poorly

• Trendy

Tags

CCSS.RI.4.4

CCSS.RI.5.4

CCSS.RI.6.4

CCSS.RL.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.4

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

Which event in the story caused the old man to fall down?

• The soccer team won the game and rushed onto the streets.

• The soccer game was canceled, and the fans were angry

• The soccer player rode by, and people ran over to see him.

• The soccer stadium sold all of the tickets and closed the gate.

Tags

CCSS.RL.2.10

CCSS.RL.2.2

CCSS.RL.2.3

CCSS.RL.4.3

CCSS.RL.4.4

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

In paragraph 19, what is the meaning of “Roberto’s heart was in his stomach”?

• He was disappointed about not getting tickets for the soccer game.

• He was concerned that the old man had gotten hurt from the fall.

• He was frustrated that the old man was pushed down by the crowd.

• He was excited to see Jorge Santos in the back of the car waving and

  smiling.

Tags

CCSS.RF.5.4C

CCSS.RI.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.2

CCSS.RL.6.1

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

In Paragraph 34, what is the meaning of "dressed like a pauper"?

• wearing old and worn clothes

• wearing new and fancy clothes

• wearing summer clothes

• wearing tight clothes

Tags

CCSS.RI.5.4

CCSS.RL.4.4

CCSS.RL.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.4

CCSS.RL.6.4

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

Based on the selection, how did Roberto get to see the game?

• He walked in with the playeers on Jorge's team.

• He was let into the stadium with the owner of Jorge's team.

• He bought tickets after helping the old man.

• He came in with the tall man that stood in line.

Tags

CCSS.RL.2.10

CCSS.RL.2.2

CCSS.RL.2.3

CCSS.RL.4.3

CCSS.RL.4.4

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

In the selection, what can be inferred about how the people int he crowd viewed the old man?

• The crowd did not know that the old man was the owner of the soccer team, so they pushed him down.

• The crowd was upset that the gate was late opening, so they pushed the old

  man down.

• The crowd was upset that the tickets were sold out, so they pushed the old

  man down.

• The crowd did not want the old man to get tickets before them, so they

  pushed him down.

Tags

CCSS.RF.5.4C

CCSS.RI.4.1

CCSS.RI.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.1

CCSS.RL.5.2

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see

him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need

it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

Roberto and the Soccer Game

by Bernadine Beatie

Roberto stood close to the front of a long line of people waiting to buy tickets. Though

he had ridden all night on the small bus that traveled from his village to the city, he was

much too excited to be tired. Today Roberto’s dream would come true. At long last he

would see a soccer game between the two finest teams in Brazil! It hadn’t been easy.

First he’d had to persuade his parents that he was old enough to come alone; then he’d

had to earn the money. Roberto grinned and moved a step forward.

“Is it always so hard to get tickets?” Roberto asked the tall man next in line.

“Not always. We are lucky to be so near the head of the line. Many behind us will be

turned away.” The man shrugged. “When Jorge Santos plays, everyone wants to see him.”

Roberto smiled. He had cut many pictures of Jorge Santos from newspapers.

“Someday,” Roberto said, “I am going to be a soccer player.”

The man’s reply was lost in a burst of cheering. The street was suddenly filled with

young men and boys, shouting and laughing, running beside a long black car.

“Santos! Jorge Santos!” A great shout went up.

Roberto’s heart pounded. Jorge Santos sat, tall and proud, on the back seat of the car.

He was waving and smiling.

Roberto would have dashed forward to join the crowd, but the tall man caught his arm.

“Don’t lose your place. Soon the tickets will be gone.”

As Roberto stepped back into line, he saw that a shabbily dressed old man, leaning

heavily on a cane, was being swept along by the crowd.

“Careful!” Roberto called. But no one heard, and Roberto saw the old man stumble and

fall. Then the crowd surged forward, hiding him from view. Roberto forgot everything.

He left his place in line, squirmed through the crowd, and knelt beside the old man.

“Are you hurt, senhor—?” he asked.

The old man was red faced and angry. “Help me up! Fetch my cane!” he cried crossly.

When Roberto obeyed, instead of thanking him, the old man glared at him. He raised his

cane and shook it at the crowd that followed Jorge Santos.

“Villains! Scoundrels!” he yelled. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He leaned

heavily on Roberto’s arm. “There’s a bench at the corner of the stadium,” he said. “Help

me to it.”

“But, senhor—” Roberto looked over his shoulder. The line waiting for tickets was even

longer now.

“You knocked me down,” the old man said impatiently. “The least you can do is take me

someplace where I can rest a moment and get my breath.”

Roberto looked back again. He gave a little cry of dismay as the ticket window slammed

shut and a Sold Out sign flashed on. There were a few scattered boos, and the crowd

started moving away.

“What are you waiting for? Come along,” the old man ordered.

Roberto’s heart was in his stomach. He had given up his chance to see the game just to

help this cross old man. For a moment he thought of running away, of letting the old

man get to the bench the best way he could. Roberto shrugged. That would serve no

purpose now that the tickets were gone. And there was such a crowd about them that

he was afraid the man might fall again. So he walked slowly, keeping his shoulder high

to support the man.

The old man kept up a steady grumbling. “Young people! All they think about is games

and excitement. Think of the money they will waste today on foolishness.”

Roberto noticed again how shabbily he was dressed. He was probably cross because he

had no money. He might even be hungry.

“Here,” Roberto said, thrusting part of his money into the old man’s hand. “I don’t need it now.”

There was a startled look on the man’s face. “I do not need your money,” he said

gruffly.

The crowd was so thick now that they had to pause. And over the heads of those

nearest to him, Roberto suddenly saw the tall man who had stood next to him in line.

“I told you,” the man cried, “if you lost your place in line you would not get a ticket!”

Then the man was pushed along by the crowd.

“Ha!” said the old man. “So that is why you no longer need your money.” He laughed

softly. “You gave up your place in line to help me, and you have stayed with me even

though I have been cross and unreasonable. Why?”

Roberto searched for words.

“Never mind,” the old man said. “It is enough that you did it.” He chuckled softly.

“Come, follow me. You shall see the game.”

“But the tickets are all gone, senhor!” Roberto cried.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the old man, pushing Roberto toward the entrance of the

stadium. “Who needs tickets?”

The old man must have lost his mind! Roberto tried to pull away, but the man propelled

him forward. And when they walked through the entrance to the stadium, Roberto could

hardly believe his eyes. The uniformed attendants bowed and smiled, clearing a way for

them. The next thing Roberto knew, the old man was steering him through a corridor

that led to the rooms where the players were waiting for the game to start.

“Senhor Gomez!” rang out from all sides.

Roberto swallowed. “Ernesto Gomez?” he asked in a small voice.

“None other!” One of the players came over and gave the old man a hug. “And still

going around dressed like a pauper.”

Roberto gasped. The speaker was Jorge Santos! And Ernesto Gomez, this poor old man,

was the owner of Jorge’s team!

Senhor Gomez laughed. “This way I can find out what people really think of my team.”

He looked down at Roberto. “But today, had it not been for this one, I would have been

trampled on the street. He gave up his chance to get a ticket so that he could help me.”

“You shall have the best seat in the house.” Jorge grinned down at Roberto. “You shall

sit on the bench beside us.”

Roberto’s heart was so full he couldn’t speak. He smiled shyly at Jorge and at Senhor

Gomez. It was not every day that dreams come true!

Which word describes how Roberto felt toward the old man at the end of the

selection?

• Upset

• Proud

• Embarrassed

• Grateful

Tags

CCSS.RL.3.3

CCSS.RL.4.3

CCSS.RL.5.3

CCSS.RL.6.3

CCSS.RL.7.3