Free Murphy & Mousetrap by Sylvia Olsen Page A

gotta be there. Murphy, stay awake out there. We need shots. Good shots. Murphy’s not getting much help out there.”
    When the second half began, the Thunder-birds continued to dominate the play. One shot after the other flew at Murphy. After the first couple his body and his mind woke up. He watched the play; he watched the players; he kept his eye on the shooter’s eye. When a foot kicked the ball, out of the corner of his eye he could see exactly where it was headed, and instinct sent his body in the right direction.
    But like Uncle Rudy had said, Murphy wasn’t getting much help from the other players. The Thunderbirds were slick. The ball moved from one player to the other like it was set to music. Albert, Levi and Big Foot scrambled to take it, but they ended up turning circles and bumping into each other. Levi tumbled onto his butt, and a Thunderbirdoffense leaped over his body and flew past Jeff and Haywire like they were standing still. Murphy was almost dizzy by the time the player wound up to take a shot. Without hesitation, Murphy’s body flew out to meet the ball. But instead of the ball lodging itself in his hands, the greasy leather spun around in his arms and spurted out. Before Murphy had time to retrieve it, the ball rolled past the goal line and rested up against the net.
    Slowly Murphy walked back and picked up the slippery ball. The team was a shambles. And Murphy losing the ball didn’t help. The score was two to one for the Thunderbirds.
    â€œWe got time,” Uncle Rudy shouted. “We got time!”
    Not much time. The game was almost over, and nothing but a fluke could bring the Buckskins a win.
    From the sidelines a chorus erupted, “Buckskins! Buckskins! Buckskins!” Mom and Chas and Bernie had been joined by other moms and dads and fans from home. They held their hands in the air, swayed from side to side and called each player byname, “Big Foot! Albert! Jeff! Haywire! Levi! Danny!” Grandma was there and Auntie Jean and Uncle Ray; everyone from home shouted together, “Reggie! Frankie! Murphy! Junior!”
    Murphy gulped down a lump in his throat and squished back tears.
    â€œCome on!” he shouted.
    Then Jeff shouted and Albert and Big Foot. Haywire and Reggie called to each other, “We can do it!”
    With any luck, Murphy thought, we will. Only a few minutes later he saw the backs of his players again. Again Albert rushed back to center field, this time carrying Haywire on his shoulders.
    â€œHaywire! Haywire! Haywire!” the crowd yelled.
    The score at the end of the game was two–two.

15
    Now what? Murphy had never been in a tie game. Did they both win the trophy?
    He ran to the sidelines.
    â€œPenalty shots,” Uncle Rudy said. “Five each side. Whoever gets the most goals wins.”
    The boys turned and looked at Murphy.
    â€œWhat are penalty shots?” Murphy asked.
    Uncle Rudy explained while the other boys stood quietly.
    â€œYou are in the net. They send out their best shooters. The shooter stands at the penalty line until the referee blows the whistle. Then the shooter takes his best shot. Him against you. Then it’s our turn. Our shooter against their keeper.” Uncle Rudy held his hand onMurphy’s shoulder. “You have never been in goal for penalty shots?”
    â€œNever.”
    It was a good thing Murphy didn’t know about penalty shots or he would have wanted to run home before they started. Uncle Rudy was right. They picked their best shooters and their biggest shooters. The first shot rocketed into Murphy’s chest almost driving him back into the net.
    After one shooter from each side had taken a turn, the score for penalty shots was zero–zero.
    The next two shooters for the Thunderbirds missed the net entirely. So did Levi and Danny.
    After three shooters from each side had gone, the score for penalty shots was still zero–zero.
    The next shooter for the