the ref just now about the boy who's been fouling him. We're going to see if we can get a call, maybe get a penalty shot. You okay with that, Renny?”
“You bet, Coach,” Renny said.
He'd been thinking about what Bryce McCormack had told him out on the trail the day before. “Be a little more aggressive,” he'd said, “or the other team might try to intimidate you.”
Well, they'd succeeded, Renny had to admit. But the game wasn't over yet. Remembering what Bryce had told him about doing the unexpected, Renny made up his mind to take the shot if he had it, since the Crush had to be thinking he was scared of getting hit.
“Try to be more selfish,” Bryce had told him. “Gotta keep surprising them.”
Yes, he was going to be more selfish this half. Coach had set up the play for him, and if Turk hit him now, everyone would be watching.
He looked up at the bleachers. Bryce was gone.
Oh well, Renny thought. It was nice of him to watch part of my game, anyway.
He ran out onto the field as fast as he could, getting a loud cheer from his psyched-up teammates as they followed him.
As soon as the Hornets got control of the ball, they set up to feed Renny in the offensive zone. Turk Walters watched and waited, muttering so Renny could hear him, “Come on, punk, come on, I've got you….”
The ball came to Renny. He dribbled toward Turk, who rushed at him again, yelling like a banshee.
Renny kept charging. At the last minute, he grabbed the ball between his shins, at the same time executing Bryce's “flying spin” move. He'd tried it out in the driveway before heading for the field that morning. The move worked — as he came out of the spin, he was almost past the startled Turk. Instinctively, though, at the last instant, Turk stuck out his foot and tripped Renny. It was nothing compared to the fouls he'd committed in the first half. But this time, the ref — and everyone else — was watching.
Renny fell, and the ball spun free. The whistle blew harshly. Turk jumped up into the air, yelling as if he were in pain. “No!” he said. “It was a clean hit!”
“Penalty shot!” the ref said. “Flagrant foul in the zone!”
“Let me take the shot!” Renny said to his team mates.
“I've got a stronger shot,” John Singleman pointed out.
“I'm taking it,” Renny insisted “I'm the one who got fouled, and I'm going to put it in!”
Without waiting for an argument, Renny raised his hand and went over to where the ref had placed the ball. He backed up a few paces, measuring them off carefully. Then he sized up the goalie and took a deep breath.
Renny ran at the ball and reared his foot back to kick. At that split second, the goalie leaned to his left ever so slightly. That was the direction Renny had been planning to kick the ball. In midkick, he diverted his foot just a little, so that the ball glanced off the side of his foot, near the little toe. The goalie, prone on the ground after a fruitless leap to stop a kick that never came, watched the ball trickle in behind him. The Hornets leaped into the air, screaming their heads off.
“Lucky shot!” some of the Crush called out. “He muffed it!”
Renny turned to them. “Nothing lucky about it,” he said, before high-fiving his teammates.
Less than a minute later, Renny was at it again, leading a rush right through all three defensemen. Renny's shot hit the post but caromed right back to John Singleman, who shot it home. The score was tied 3-3, all thanks to Renny's new “selfishness.”
A few minutes later, after an attack by the Crush had been turned back, Renny found himself up against Turk again. He put his body between Turk and the ball, cradling it, pushing back against Turk to make him give ground.
That got Turkis temper up, as Renny had hoped it would. The big defenseman gave Renny a hard shove. “Get off me!” he yelled.
The ref's whistle blew. “Number Eight, Orange — that's your second flagrant foul. You're out of the
“You bet, Coach,” Renny said.
He'd been thinking about what Bryce McCormack had told him out on the trail the day before. “Be a little more aggressive,” he'd said, “or the other team might try to intimidate you.”
Well, they'd succeeded, Renny had to admit. But the game wasn't over yet. Remembering what Bryce had told him about doing the unexpected, Renny made up his mind to take the shot if he had it, since the Crush had to be thinking he was scared of getting hit.
“Try to be more selfish,” Bryce had told him. “Gotta keep surprising them.”
Yes, he was going to be more selfish this half. Coach had set up the play for him, and if Turk hit him now, everyone would be watching.
He looked up at the bleachers. Bryce was gone.
Oh well, Renny thought. It was nice of him to watch part of my game, anyway.
He ran out onto the field as fast as he could, getting a loud cheer from his psyched-up teammates as they followed him.
As soon as the Hornets got control of the ball, they set up to feed Renny in the offensive zone. Turk Walters watched and waited, muttering so Renny could hear him, “Come on, punk, come on, I've got you….”
The ball came to Renny. He dribbled toward Turk, who rushed at him again, yelling like a banshee.
Renny kept charging. At the last minute, he grabbed the ball between his shins, at the same time executing Bryce's “flying spin” move. He'd tried it out in the driveway before heading for the field that morning. The move worked — as he came out of the spin, he was almost past the startled Turk. Instinctively, though, at the last instant, Turk stuck out his foot and tripped Renny. It was nothing compared to the fouls he'd committed in the first half. But this time, the ref — and everyone else — was watching.
Renny fell, and the ball spun free. The whistle blew harshly. Turk jumped up into the air, yelling as if he were in pain. “No!” he said. “It was a clean hit!”
“Penalty shot!” the ref said. “Flagrant foul in the zone!”
“Let me take the shot!” Renny said to his team mates.
“I've got a stronger shot,” John Singleman pointed out.
“I'm taking it,” Renny insisted “I'm the one who got fouled, and I'm going to put it in!”
Without waiting for an argument, Renny raised his hand and went over to where the ref had placed the ball. He backed up a few paces, measuring them off carefully. Then he sized up the goalie and took a deep breath.
Renny ran at the ball and reared his foot back to kick. At that split second, the goalie leaned to his left ever so slightly. That was the direction Renny had been planning to kick the ball. In midkick, he diverted his foot just a little, so that the ball glanced off the side of his foot, near the little toe. The goalie, prone on the ground after a fruitless leap to stop a kick that never came, watched the ball trickle in behind him. The Hornets leaped into the air, screaming their heads off.
“Lucky shot!” some of the Crush called out. “He muffed it!”
Renny turned to them. “Nothing lucky about it,” he said, before high-fiving his teammates.
Less than a minute later, Renny was at it again, leading a rush right through all three defensemen. Renny's shot hit the post but caromed right back to John Singleman, who shot it home. The score was tied 3-3, all thanks to Renny's new “selfishness.”
A few minutes later, after an attack by the Crush had been turned back, Renny found himself up against Turk again. He put his body between Turk and the ball, cradling it, pushing back against Turk to make him give ground.
That got Turkis temper up, as Renny had hoped it would. The big defenseman gave Renny a hard shove. “Get off me!” he yelled.
The ref's whistle blew. “Number Eight, Orange — that's your second flagrant foul. You're out of the
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