With twenty seconds left in the tie-breaker game, it was 4–4. If the Timberwolves won, they would go to the championship finals. Johnny skated onto the ice for a face-off in the Timberwolves’ end. Dale skated beside him.
“Hey, loser,” Dale said. “Isn’t it time for you to get another penalty against us?”
Johnny ignored him and skated over to Tom. “If you get the puck,” Johnny said. “Fire it around the net as hard as you can. I’ll be racing up the boards. Maybe we can catch them by surprise.”
And that’s exactly what happened. The referee dropped the puck. Tom won the draw. He spun around and fired the puck behind the net. Johnny was racing in that direction and caught up with it. He chipped it past the Sabres’ defenseman at the Timberwolves’ blue line.
Johnny kept chasing the puck. He had a breakaway!
“Loser!” Dale yelled from behind him. “No way are you going to score!”
Johnny busted up the ice with no one between him and the goalie. Dale followed close behind. All the Timberwolf fans in the rink were yelling and cheering. If Johnny scored, they’d win.
He was almost ready to shoot on the goalie, when he felt a stick between his legs. Dale reached for the puck.
Johnny fell. He slid toward the goalie headfirst. The puck slid ahead of Johnny. He pushed at the puck with his stick. The puck bounced over his stick and into his gloves. His hands were moving forward and knocked the puck down the ice, between the goalies legs and into the net!
The crowd went crazy. His teammates pulled him up and mobbed him. Johnny looked over their shoulders at the referee.
Johnny knew the goal shouldn’t count, because he’d knocked it in with his glove. He watched to see if the referee would wave off the goal. But the referee must not have seen it bounce off Johnny’s glove. The referee was signaling that Johnny had scored.
Johnny sure wanted the goal to count. But Coach Smith and his dad always said to play in a way that he could be proud of himself. Johnny skated up to the ref.
“Sir,” Johnny said, “I pushed the puck into the net with my hand. It shouldn’t be a goal.”
“Ha!” Dale said from behind Johnny. “You are a loser.”
“That’s a tough call to make on yourself, kid,” the referee said. “You should be proud of yourself.” He blew the whistle and waved his arms to disallow the goal.
“Loser,” Dale said again.
Johnny skated toward the bench.
“Where are you going?” the referee shouted at Johnny.
“Sir?” Johnny said.
The referee pointed at Dale. “He tripped you on a breakaway. I was going to call the penalty, but the puck went in the net. The goal doesn’t count, but the penalty does. And you both know what that means, don’t you?”
Johnny did know. A penalty shot! The players returned to center ice. When the ref blew the whistle, the breakaway started all over again, without anyone chasing.
Dale groaned. Johnny grinned and took the puck toward the middle of the ice.
This time, when Johnny got close to the net, he didn’t fall. He fired the puck right between the goalie’s legs.
Goal! The Timberwolves had won 5–4! They had made it to the championship finals.
Johnny raised his arms in triumph. He grinned his special grin, practicing for the day when the girls would adore him.