The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 4 by Roy Macgregor

Author:Roy Macgregor [MacGregor, Roy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55199-240-2
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 2006-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

23

There was no time for celebration. Thirty-three seconds remained on the clock with a draw at centre floor.

Again, Sarah took the draw and flipped it back to Sam, who began another retreat behind Nish’s net. The Mini-Rock, however, had other ideas. They put a two-player press on Sam, the two closest forwards rushing her in the hopes of causing a turnover or a panic throw.

Both forwards hit Sam at once. She buckled under their cross-checks, but just as she went down she managed to direct the ball towards Nish’s crease.

Nish raced forward, scooping up the ball. He was in full stride, his leg pads clicking as he ran and his sneakers leaving faint damp spots on the floor.

Up over centre floor Nish ran.

Travis was alarmed. Nish had never come out this far before. If he lost the ball now, they were sunk.

Sarah and Dmitri were both calling for passes. One Mini-Rock defender broke off, covering Sarah, the Owls’ most dangerous playmaker.

That left Travis free.

He saw that Nish could see him. He raised his stick, expecting the pass. He barely saw Nish’s hand move. The thick goalie glove went up into the pocket and jammed the ball down hard into the crotch of the stick.

Nish faked to Travis, then turned on the only player back. He faked a bounce shot through the player’s legs. The defenceman went down to block. Nish threw his goalie stick high in the air, so high it came within a whisker of rattling off the overhead lights that hung from the rafters.

It was as if all time had come to a stop.

Travis could sense the crowd, every eye in the place raised to the heavens as Nish’s huge floating, spinning stick went up and over and began to come down.

Nish crashed right through the crouching defender, sending him flying. He reached up with one hand and caught his stick perfectly, placed his other hand up the shaft, and in one motion he shot.

A perfect “Muck Munro”!

The ball bounced once, rattled between the leg pads of the Mini-Rock goaltender, and into the net.

Screech Owls 14, Mini-Rock 13.

Travis’s first instinct was to look at the clock.

Nothing left, the buzzer already going.

His second instinct was to pile on Nish, who was already down in an accommodating heap.

The Screech Owls had won the championship.

Travis was in the pile. Dmitri was on top of him. Sam, then Fahd, then Sarah.

“You stink!” Sarah shouted.

“Ain’t it beautiful?” shouted Nish.

The floor was filling with players and coaches and managers and officials. Muck was running towards the Mini-Rock net, where the official was just pulling the winning goal out from the netting. Travis saw him speak to the official, who nodded and handed over the ball. Muck took it in both hands, gently kissed it, and then walked over to meet Zeke Fontaine, still heading towards the pile from the bench.

Muck held out the ball for his assistant coach.

The old man looked at it. Travis could see he was weeping.

Muck shook the ball. He, too, was in tears.

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