Free Panic in Pittsburgh by Roy Macgregor

meal before the shuttle over to Heinz Field and the championship game of the Peewee Winter Classic.
    Travis couldn’t believe it. The Owls would be meeting the Portland Panthers to decide the championship. The winners would have their photographs taken at center ice with the most famous trophy in the world: the Stanley Cup.
    Mr. Dillinger had explained how it all worked out after the round-robin. The Owls were on top in points; the Panthers, who had been beaten by the Owls, were in second place, tied with another team. But as the Portland team had defeated this team in the one match they had played together, the Panthers ranked higher.
    The Owls would be playing Billings and Yantha. Travis’s old familiar foes – and friends.

    Travis was standing by the boards, watching the other Owls go through a team warm-up, when hefelt a light tap on the side of his arm. It was Billings, smiling.
    Not a word was said between them. The little Portland defenseman skated away quickly, going backward, his stick raised in a quick stick salute for Travis.
    “I’ve never seen so many fans,” Sara said, looking up from the bench.
    “Me neither,” said Travis.
    He was excited, but shattered at the same time. He wouldn’t be playing. Even though it was the championship game, even though he now felt 100 percent recovered – he’d almost forgotten about his concussion during the plan to thwart the theft of the Stanley Cup – there was no way Muck or Mr. D would allow him to play until he had been cleared by the doctor back home. As Muck put it, “Winning today means nothing if you lose tomorrow.” Travis wasn’t sure what Muck meant by that, but it sounded good, and he figured it was about the importance of showing caution.
    Too bad he wasn’t playing, though. Heinz Field was an amazing scene. The snow had stopped,and it was a gorgeous winter afternoon. The ice on the outdoor rink glistened from a fresh flood. The sun danced between scudding clouds.
    And the noise! Travis had never heard such noise – even in a covered arena. The stands were packed with thousands of fans and family. The crowd roared like an animal when each player’s name was announced and his or her hockey card appeared on the scoreboard. They cheered both teams equally, which made it even better. Both Portland and Tamarack were far away from Pittsburgh, so there was no way the stands could be crammed with supporters of just one side.
    Travis shivered. Not from the cold or the light wind but from excitement. No Screech Owl had ever played in front of this many people. Not even half this many people.
    Muck sent out his first line for the opening face-off. Sarah at center, Simon on left in Travis’s spot, Dmitri on right, Nish and Lars back on defense, Jeremy Weathers in net. Travis burned with envy, desperately wishing he were lining up with them.
    Mr. Dillinger called over the players on the ice for a quick huddle. The five skaters and Jeremy came and leaned on the boards while Mr. D gave one of those speeches that he thought were inspirational and the players thought were hilarious. “There has never
been
a larger crowd for a peewee hockey game,” he told them. “You have a chance here to make history! The day the great Fred Shero’s Philadelphia Flyers won the Stanley Cup, Shero said to the team, ‘Win today and we walk together forever!’ ” The players on the bench slammed their gloves into the boards while the players on the ice cracked their sticks again and again on the ice.
    When the sound died down, there was only Sam’s voice, cutting through the roar of the huge crowd.
    “Hey, Fat Boy – didn’t you forget to streak?”
    Nish punched his helmet tight to his head and stuck out his tongue at her.
    “Tournament’s not over yet!”

20
    It certainly wasn’t over.
    Big Yantha won the opening face-off by spinning on his skates so his size blocked Sarah and he had time to kick the puck onto his blade and fire it back to little Billings on