Hat Trick
Page 1
To my great-grandson and namesake,
Matthew Christopher Howell
Copyright
Text copyright © 2000 by Catherine M. Christopher
Illustrations copyright © 2000 by Daniel Vasconcellos
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
First eBook Edition: December 2009
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher™ is a trademark of Catherine M. Christopher.
Hachette Book Group
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ISBN: 978-0-316-09540-2
Soccer ’Cats Team Roster
Lou Barnes Striker
Jerry Dinh Striker
Stookie Norris Striker
Dewey London Halfback
Bundy Neel Halfback
Amanda Caler Halfback
Brant Davis Fullback
Lisa Gaddy Fullback
Ted Gaddy Fullback
Alan Minter Fullback
Bucky Pinter Goalie
Subs:
Jason Shearer
Dale Tuget
Roy Boswick
Edith “Eddie” Sweeny
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
Stookie Norris sat across the dinner table from his older brother, Greg. Greg had pushed his plate aside and was reading the sports column of the local newspaper.
“A color photo, not just black and white!” Greg gloated. “Here’s what the caption says: ‘Greg Norris, striker for the Blue Waves soccer team, scored the league’s first and only hat trick this season on Tuesday.’” He put the paper down so Stookie could see the photo, too. It showed a sweaty-faced Greg beaming for the camera.
“The guy who wrote the article says my playing was the best he’s ever seen for a twelve-year-old. That my fancy footwork and speed left the other team in the dust.” Greg leaned back in his chair and locked his hands behind his head. “What do you think of that, little bro?”
Stookie looked at the photo, then at his brother, and shook his head admiringly. “Wow. I wish I’d been there to see it.” He handed the paper back to Greg. “But, um, what’s a hat trick, anyway?”
Greg snorted. “You don’t know what a hat trick is? Some soccer player you are! It’s only what every striker should try to do, in every game. I can’t believe your coach hasn’t told you that.”
Stookie reddened. His mother came to his rescue.
“Well, I don’t know what a hat trick is, either. Perhaps you won’t mind telling me—before you tip over in your chair?”
Greg rocked his chair forward with a thump. “A hat trick is when one player scores three goals in one game,” he explained impatiently. “It’s very hard to do.”
“But your coach told you that’s what strikers should try for, every time?” Mrs. Norris asked with surprise.
Greg groaned. “Well, he didn’t come right out and say that. But you should have seen how pumped he was when I scored that third goal! It’s pretty clear to me that that’s what he wants me to do.”
Mr. Norris added, “It was pretty exciting. I almost busted with pride right there in the stands.” He chucked Greg playfully under the chin. “Keep up the good work.”
Stookie looked at the newspaper article with envy. At that moment, he decided that he, too, would do what all strikers were supposed to do. He would do all he could to make a hat trick at the next Soccer ’Cats game.
Chapter 2
Hey, did you guys see the sports column in the paper yesterday?”
That was the first thing Stookie asked his Soccer ’Cats teammates the next day at practice. The team was gathered in the stands, waiting for the coach to arrive.
“Yeah, pretty cool picture of your brother,” said Amanda Caler, one of the team’s halfbacks.
“Did you read the article?” Stookie continued. “My brother is a star! He knows everything there is to know about soccer. His coach thinks he’s the best. You should have heard what he said when Greg made that hat trick!” He looked from one player to another. “You do know what a hat trick is, don’t you?”
Jason Shearer popped his gum. “Yeah, isn’t that when a guy with a black cape makes a rabbit appear or turns a broken egg into a dove?” The other kids snickered.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Stookie grumbled. “Well, we’ll see who’s laughing when I get my name in the paper for scoring three goals next game. ’Cuz that’s just what I’m going to do!”
Lou Barnes arrived in time to hear what Stookie was saying. “You’re going to score three goals next game?” he echoed. “Guess I might as well hand in my soccer shoes then, because you won’t need me in the front line with you.”
Stookie threw a mock punch at the big striker’s arm. “Well, someone has to assist me out there,” he joked. “If you’re lucky, I might just mention your name when the newspaper interviews me. Of course, that’s supposing I don’t bring the ball in all by myself each time.” He locked his hands together behind his head and leaned back against the stands.
“Oh, brother,” he heard someone say. But before he could identify who had said it, the coach showed up and started practice.
“Hi, team,” Coach Bradley greeted them. “Let’s get going. Lou, Jerry, Stookie, and Roy, we’re going to practice shooting on goal today. Bucky, you and Jason are our goalies.” Jason started to groan, but at a look from the coach he turned it into a cough. “The rest of you will be doing tackling and dribbling drills.”
Stookie’s heart soared when he heard the coach’s plan. It was as if the coach had decided to help Stookie reach his goal of making a hat trick.
I bet he saw the paper, too, Stookie thought. Greg must be right; coaches must want their strikers to make hat tricks. Well I won’t let Coach Bradley down!
For that part of practice, Stookie worked harder than he ever had. Each time he faced Bucky or Jason, he sized them up carefully. Then he kicked the ball with all his might to a spot he hoped the goalie wouldn’t reach in time. He faked Jason out more times than not, but Bucky was much quicker. He only made half his kicks good against the ’Cats regular goalie.
Still, when it was time to switch to another drill, Stookie was sure he’d improved. Of course, kicking a goal during a practice wasn’t quite the same as during a game, but Stookie wasn’t worried. Somehow, he’d make his three goals the next game. He was sure of it.
Chapter 3
The game against the Black Hawks started right on schedule the next day. Stookie Norris took his position at center field. Jerry Dinh lined up on his right. Lou Barnes was on his left.
The Soccer ’Cats hadn’t played the Black Hawks before, but Stookie wasn’t nervous. He had his game plan in mind and was sure he could make it work.
The ’Cats had won the toss. At the referee’s whistle, Stookie gave the ball a gentle kick to Jerry. Jerry prodded it forward with his foot, picking up speed as he dribbled downfield. Stookie and Lou kept pace with him, ready to help out if Jerry got in trouble.
Sure enough, a tackier charged Jerry. Jerry saw him coming and booted the ball cleanly toward Stookie.
>
Now’s my chance! thought Stookie. He raced forward, dribbling as fast as he could. A halfback came forward to meet him.
“No, you don’t!” Stookie muttered. He sidestepped the Black Hawk, taking the ball with him. The halfback put on the brakes, but he was too late. Stookie was already five feet farther downfield and moving fast.
Now two fullbacks double-teamed him. Out of the corner of his eye, Stookie saw Lou wave for a pass. Stookie hesitated.
If I can just get past the double-team, the goal will be right in front of me, he thought. Then it will be me against the goalie. I’m sure I can beat him!
He decided to go for it. It took some fancy footwork—and one little shove the ref didn’t see—but he made it around the two fullbacks. Suddenly it was Stookie against the goalie, just like in practice the day before. With a mighty kick, Stookie walloped the ball to the high right corner.
Swish! Goal! Stookie jumped in the air, fist pumping. “One down, two to go!” he cheered. He looked around for his teammates, expecting them to congratulate him. But most of them just yelled hooray and started back to their positions. They didn’t want to be called for delaying the game.
Only Lou had waited, and he wasn’t cheering. In fact, he looked puzzled.
“Stookie, didn’t you see me waving?” Lou called as they trotted back toward midfield. “I had a clean shot at the goal. You didn’t.”
Stookie shrugged. He didn’t know why Lou was concerned. He should have remembered that Stookie was going to try for a hat trick this game. And that meant taking as many shots on goal as he could. If Lou didn’t remember, well, Stookie wasn’t about to remind him. To do that would risk tipping off the defense. Lou would just have to figure it out for himself.
Meanwhile, Stookie wasn’t just going to stand around waiting for plays to happen. He knew that if he was going to make a hat trick, he had to get his foot on the ball no matter what. He charged downfield to join his teammates in the fight against the Black Hawks.
Dewey London and Bundy Neel were working hard to get the ball back into Black Hawks territory. Finally Dewey stole it and sent it flying toward the sideline. Stookie took off after it like a shot.
So did Lou. The right striker reached the ball first. But instead of backing off and letting Lou handle it, Stookie stuck his foot in and tried to snake the ball away.
“What are you doing?” growled Lou. “Get back in your position, you numbskull!”
Numbskull am I? Stookie thought angrily. Who’s the one who forgot today’s game plan? Sheesh!
Chapter 4
For the rest of the first half of the game, Stookie was a whirlwind on the field. He did everything he could to get and keep control of the ball. In fact, he shadowed the ball everywhere, straying out of his position time and again—and getting in the way of his fellow ’Cats. More than once, he found himself battling his own teammate for the ball. A few times, someone else had to rush to his spot to cover his position for him.
Then, just before the halftime buzzer sounded, he finally made another goal. The Black Hawk goalie stumbled over the ball. All Stookie had to do was nudge it with his foot to send it over the line and into the net.
Stookie barely had enough energy to leap in the air. All that ball-chasing had pooped him out. Still, he hustled to the sideline at halftime. He was sure the coach was going to praise him for his efforts.
Just the opposite happened.
“I didn’t think I needed to remind everyone of the importance of staying within your positions,” Coach Bradley said. His eye fell on Stookie for a long moment, then moved on. “But maybe I was wrong. So let me say it again: Stay in your own lanes. Help out when needed, but trust your teammates to know what they’re doing out there. They’re trusting you, after all.”
Stookie caught Lou frowning at him. He shrugged and looked away. His gaze fell on the stands. There, to his surprise, sat his brother!
Greg was busy talking with his best friend, Roger Charlton. As Stookie watched, Greg took a tattered newspaper from his back pocket and showed it to Roger. Roger rolled his eyes and said something to Greg. Greg made a face and shoved the paper back in his pocket.
Stookie’s heart pounded. His brother had never come to one of his games before. When Greg saw Stookie looking at him, he gave him the thumbs-up sign. Then he nodded, as if to say, “I like what I see out there, little bro.”
Stookie felt a warm glow pass through him. But moments later, that warmth turned stone cold.
“Stookie, you look like you need a rest,” Coach Bradley said. “Roy, take Stookie’s place when the second half starts.”
“But Coach—” Stookie started to protest. A withering look from the coach silenced him. So when the second half started a moment later, Stookie sat on the bench. He had to watch as Roy Boswick took position at center midfield. A substitute striker!
When the action started, Stookie sneaked a peek up at the stands. He hoped his brother was watching the game and not looking at him. He needn’t have worried.
Roger was still in the bleachers, but Greg was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 5
The Soccer ’Cats wound up winning the game against the Black Hawks, 3-0. Roy had scored the third goal on an assist from Lou.
“That goal should have been mine,” Stookie grumbled to Lou after the game. “Can you believe the coach took me out?”
Lou was taking off his soccer shoes and putting on his regular sneakers. He shot Stookie a look of disbelief.
“What?” said Stookie.
Lou just shook his head, gathered up his soccer shoes, and walked away. Stookie walked home by himself.
At dinner that night, Stookie waited for Greg to say something about the game. But Greg was silent except to ask if Stookie had ever made it back into action. Stookie mumbled a no, and Greg shook his head sadly. Stookie could guess what his brother was thinking: That’s no way to get a hat trick, now, is it? The thought made him turn beet-red. So he tried not to think about it.
The next day, the sun shone bright and there was a cool breeze. It was perfect soccer weather. After breakfast, Stookie called Lou.
“Hey, buddy, want to kick the ball around for a while?” he asked cheerfully.
There was silence on the other end. Then Lou said, “Uh, I can’t today. My mom, um, needs me to stick around the house this morning.”
“All morning?” Stookie asked. “Well, what about later?”
Lou mumbled something about yard work and said he had to go. Stookie hung up the phone, puzzled.
Oh, well, he thought, walking from the kitchen to the garage. Guess I’ll go for a bike ride instead. Maybe I’ll run into someone who can play. He wheeled his bike outside, slung a leg over, and took off. He headed for the nearby bike path.
For half an hour he rode the bike path. He passed some older folks out walking and some kids he recognized from school, but no one from the Soccer ’Cats team. Finally, he turned back.
On his way home he decided to ride past the soccer field. Maybe one of his teammates was there and would want to kick the ball around.
As he pedaled up to the field, he could see that there were kids there—a lot of them. In fact, it looked as if there was a game of three-on-three going on. He picked out Dale Tuget, Alan Minter, the Gaddy twins, Jerry Dinh—and Lou.
Stookie stared with disbelief. Guess his mom didn’t need him all morning after all, he thought.
He refused to consider the other explanation: that Lou had lied to him because he didn’t want to play soccer with him. Quickly, before any of the ’Cats could see him, Stookie jumped back on his bike and rode away.
Chapter 6
Stookie coasted into his driveway. He wheeled his bike back into the garage and hung his safety helmet over the handlebars. The day was still bright and sunny, but Stookie’s good mood was gone. He felt as dark and gloomy as the inside of the garage.
He was surprised to see his brother on the phone in the kitchen. Usually, this time of day, Greg
was showering up after soccer practice. He was even more surprised to hear his brother shouting angrily.
“So I missed one lousy practice. I think I earned a day off after my performance last game, don’t you?” There was a long pause. “Oh, yeah? Well, if getting a hat trick isn’t such a big deal, then how come no one else has done it this season? Like you, for instance?”
Greg looked around and saw Stookie staring at him; his face reddened and he shouted into the phone again. “Anyway, I don’t hear Coach Williams bawling me out for not being there today. So why don’t you just stuff a sock in it, Roger?” He hung up the phone with a bang, then faced Stookie again.
“Well, what do you want?” he demanded.
“Uh, nothing,” Stookie stuttered. He couldn’t believe that Greg had just hung up on his best friend. That would be like Stookie hanging up on … Lou.
Or Lou lying to me. The thought pierced his brain like an arrow.
Greg stalked to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. After a few moments, he pulled out the milk and poured himself a glassful. He drank it down without stopping, wiped his mouth, and thunked the glass on the counter top.
“Guess you’re wondering what that was all about,” Greg said, jerking a thumb toward the phone.
Stookie gave a half shrug.
Greg laughed harshly. “Turns out Roger is jealous of me because of that newspaper article. He said he was glad I hadn’t shown up at practice today, so he didn’t have to watch me hot-dog all over the field. Said that I was more concerned with personal glory than helping the team to win. Can you believe that?” Greg shook his head. “After I single-handedly led the team to victory, last game. Sheesh. How sore can a guy get? Oh, well. Who needs him?”