Wingman On Ice (7 page)

Tod felt sweat on his palms and rubbed it off on his pants. Thinking about Dad and the Father and Son Banquet kept his mind
from thinking about what to draw.

He went to the bookshelf in the living room and picked out a volume of the encyclopedia. Probably that would give him an idea.

He turned the pages and came to pictures of sailing ships. That’s what he would draw. A ship sailing on the high seas. He
started to copy it from the book.

After a while he forgot about the Father and Son Banquet.

That Saturday morning he walked into the dining room and stopped in his tracks. Someone was sitting there at the table he
did not expect to see.

“Dad!” cried Tod. “You’re not working this morning! Are you sick?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Dad smiled. “I told you I’d take off one of these Saturdays, didn’t I?”

“Yes!” Tod was so thrilled he went over and gave Dad a hug.

He hadn’t said anything to Dad about the hockey game. But that was why Dad was home today. He had switched with another fireman
just to attend the hockey game this morning.

Tod called Biff, and Biff said he and his mother would go with his, Biff’s, father.

Dad drove. Jane and Mom went along, too. Tod was sick when he saw one end of Manna Rink so badly burned. But men had already
begun repair work on it.

The game was with the Vikings. From the moment of the first face-off, the White Knights had possession of the puck most of
the time. Joe Farmer tried twice to drive in the puck, but both times the Vikings’ goalie made a save.

Tod sat nervously waiting for Line 2’s turn on the ice. He was thinking of Dad. How would he play today with Dad watching?

After he was on the ice for a few seconds, he felt better. He intercepted the puck on a pass from a Vikings player and passed
it to Biff. The pass was good, and Biff dribbled it across the Vikings’ blue line.

A little while later Skip had the puck. He dribbled it down to the corner, came around behind the net, and passed it to Snowball.

Two Vikings players charged in. Snowball passed the puck to Tod, who was in the right-hand circle in front of the cage. Tod
picked up the pass. He dribbled a short way and then quickly snapped the puck to Skip, who was skating toward him from the
other side.

Skip took the pass and slammed the puck into the net.

“Nice shot, Skip!” yelled Coach Fillis from the sideline. “Nice pass, Tod!”

White Knights hockey sticks thundered against the boards.

Later, the Vikings showed that they weren’t there just for the exercise. They moved ahead of the White Knights. In the second
period Tod made another assist as he passed to Jim Wright and Jim scored their goal. But as the game progressed, the White
Knights proved to be no match for the Vikings today. They lost the game 4 to 2.

It wasn’t until they were in the locker room and began talking about next week’s game that Tod realized there was only one
game left to be played. One game left! And he had yet to play with his new hockey stick!

“Played a nice game, Tod,” said Coach Fillis. “You got two points today. Assists count too, you know.”

Tod smiled. “Yes, I know.”

He had done well. He was improving. But somehow, he felt he wasn’t doing well enough to deserve that hockey stick in the closet.

Perhaps it would remain there until next year.

“Did you get your tickets to the Father and Son Banquet?” asked Biff. “I got mine.”

Tod’s face reddened. “Not yet,” he said.

From that second on the Father and Son Banquet lingered on his mind. He kept thinking about it in the car.

I don’t want to ask Dad because I’m ashamed,
he thought.
I’m ashamed that he doesn’t like sports as the other fathers do.

But it wasn’t right not to ask Dad. Tod knew that. He thought and thought about it. And it was just before they reached home
that Tod made up his mind.

“Dad,” he said, his heart pounding, “there’s going to be a Father and Son Banquet in honor of the hockey players. It’ll cost
ten dollars. Would you like to go? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Dad looked at him. He hesitated, as if he were trying to decide.

He won’t want to go,
Tod thought.
Just watch. He won’t want to go.

Then Dad said, “I think I’d like it very much, son. I’ll be glad to go.”

H
i, Tod! Hi, Joe!”

“Hi, Ted!”

Tod stared up at his father, and then at Mr. Haddock, Skip’s father.

“Do you know him, Dad?” Tod asked surprisedly.

“Of course. He and a lot of these fathers belong to the same club that I do.”

Tod’s jaw sagged. And he had thought all the time that his father was a stranger to these men!

Dad greeted other fathers, too. And they
greeted him, shaking his hand as if they were really pleased to see him.

Boy!
thought Tod.
And I almost made the mistake of not asking Dad to come!

They found seats beside Mr. Farmer and Joe. Waiters and waitresses brought in the dinners, and everyone began to eat. There
were ham and potatoes, all kinds of vegetables, and pie a la mode for dessert. Tod ate till he was stuffed.

Afterward there were speeches, including one by the coach of the university’s hockey team.

It was a night Tod would long remember. He was really glad he had asked Dad to go. Both he and his dad had had a great time.

The last game was on March 2 at eleven o’clock. The White Knights tangled with the
Spartans. Dad worked until ten-thirty, then drove to the game with Mom and Jane. Tod went with Biff and Biff’s father.

The Spartans had won only two games during the season, but they started playing as if they were champions. Center Cliff Towne
socked in the first goal, then a Line 3 player for the Spartans smacked in the second.

Joe Farmer scored first for the White Knights, making the score 2-1. Then Line 2 came on the ice.

For a minute and a half the two lines played hard without either gaining any advantage over the other. Then Skip board-checked
a Spartan player and was sent to the penalty box for one minute.

During that minute the Spartans tried desperately to raise their score. Three times Tim Collins made saves that drew loud
applause from the White Knights’ fans. And
twice a White Knight wingman cut in, racing in front of his own goal crease, to knock aside the puck that might have gone
in for a score. That wingman was Tod Baker.

Tod didn’t dribble the puck. He knew he had improved a lot at dribbling, but there were times when he would still hit the
puck too hard. He didn’t want to take those chances in this final game of the season.

So every time Tod got the puck he passed it to one of his teammates who was in the clear. And his passes were almost always
perfect. The puck would glide across the ice just far enough in front of the receiver so that he would not have to slow down
to pick it up on his stick.

Do I deserve my new hockey stick now?
thought Tod.
I think I’ve improved a lot. But
this is the last game. And the hockey stick is at home.

With fifteen seconds to go before Skip’s penalty time was up, Tod, Biff, and Jim passed the puck among themselves down the
ice deep into Spartan territory. The Spartans’ defensemen charged in, tried to block the players and to steal the puck. The
puck skittered up the ice. Tod spun around and raced after it. Just before it touched the blue line, he hooked it with his
stick, taking it away from a Spartan player.

Tod pulled the puck in front of him and then passed it to Biff, who was over near the boards. Biff caught it and passed it
back to Tod as Tod raced for the net. Tod saw Jim skating up from his right side and passed the puck to him. Jim took it,
dribbled it in front of the Spartans’ net, and snapped it.

Goal! And made while one of their own men was off the ice!

Then Skip came in. The White Knights were playing with their full force again.

Tod puffed as the buzzer sounded, and Line 2 got off the ice. He was tired, but he felt good. His passes were working smoothly.
And he had scored a point by getting that assist. What a tough minute that was while Skip was resting in that penalty box!

Line 3 of each team scored a goal and the first period ended with the score tied, 3-all.

The locker room was noisy with talk as the boys filed in to rest. Most of them bought soft drinks to quench their thirst.
They were happy, excited. The score was tied, but each team felt that theirs would be the winner.

Then Mr. Farmer, Mr. Haddock, and
some other fathers walked in. Behind them came Coach Fillis and—Tod stared with surprise—Dad.

They stopped in front of Tod.

“You’re playing better hockey than you have all season, Tod,” said the coach.

“Thanks, Coach. I’ve been trying.”

“I’ve been talking with Coach Fillis about you,” said Dad. “I told him about that brand-new hockey stick that sits in your
clothes closet.”

Coach Fillis shook his head unbelievingly. “Tod, there are very few boys who would wait to use a new stick until they’d earned
it. Takes a lot of gumption.”

“We think that you deserve that hockey stick now, Tod,” said Dad.

Tears almost came to Tod’s eyes, but he held them back.

“But—but my stick’s home, Dad. It’s too late.”

Dad grinned. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He was gone for a minute. When he returned, he had the brand-new hockey stick with him.

“Had it in the car.” He smiled. “Coach Fillis told me you were good enough to play with it last week. Or even before that.
Here, let me take that old stick. You won’t need it anymore.”

When Line 2 skated onto the ice that second period, a brand-new hockey stick flashed brightly. Something about it seemed to
do things for Tod Baker that the old one had never done. His face was radiant, his heart lighter. He seemed to skate faster
than he had ever skated before. He didn’t dribble much, but he did a lot of passing.

Cries that he had never heard before now filled his ears almost every time he passed the puck.

“All right, Tod!” yelled Biff. “Nice pass!”

And when Tod made two beautiful assists to Skip in rapid succession that resulted in two more goals for the White Knights,
Skip said:

“Beauties, Tod! Perfect passes!”

When the game ended the score was White Knights—7; Spartans—6. The White Knights were the league champions with five wins,
two losses, and two ties.

White Knights hockey sticks thundered against the boards. On the ice, White Knights players jumped and hugged each other.
Up in the seats Tod saw Mom, Dad, and Jane clapping and smiling with joy.

The teams poured into the locker rooms. Coach Fillis’s face beamed with pride. He congratulated the boys. Then he paused in
front of Tod.

“Guess our wingman can really play hockey, can’t he, fellas? You know how many assists he had? Five!”

“Terrific!” cried Biff.

Joe Farmer shook his head. “Imagine keeping a brand-new hockey stick in a closet because he didn’t think he deserved it?”
said Joe. “Man, that took nerve!”

“Nerve?” echoed Skip. “You mean gumption!”

Tod looked at Skip. His eyes went big and proud. Coming from Skip, that was a wonderful compliment.

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