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you mind a little advice? In the game, try to be a little more aggressive, you know? You've got to throw yourself at the ball more. I mean, I know you're not big like me, but you still have to act like it sometimes, or — or kids on the other team might try to push you around, intimidate you. Know what I mean?”
    There, Bryce thought. If the kid can't take a hint, too bad. That's as much warning as he's going to get.
    “You're saying I should play more like you?” Renny asked with a grin. “Gee, it would be great if I could! Wannago out there and pretend to be me?”
    Bryce tried to laugh along, but it wasn't easy. “Really, try to be a little more selfish, too — I mean, if you've got the shot, take the shot. Otherwise, they'll figure out you're going to pass off every time and start covering you better. Gotta keep surprising them, doing the unexpected.”
    “Well, I guess you're right. I guess I'm a little scared to get hurt sometimes. Some of the kids are so much bigger than me.”
    Bryce thought of Turk Walters again and swallowed hard. Even though he didn't want Renny's team to win, he sure hoped the kid got through tomorrow's game without getting hurt.
    “Well, we'd better get back to work,” Renny said, getting up. “Thanks for the advice.” He suddenly stuck out his hand. “I feel like we're friends now, sort of.”
    “Sure,” Bryce agreed, tossing it off. He managed to shake Renny's hand, but he couldn't bring himself to look the kid in the eye.
    “Come on,” he said, flapping open his new garbage bag. “Let's get busy.”

9
    R enny had practice later that Saturday afternoon. He came all psyched up to play. Becoming friends with Bryce McCormack was so cool — someone who was into sports as much as Renny was, and a great athlete, too! Well, maybe they weren't really friends yet, but Bryce had given him all those good tips, and Renny was eager to try them out in practice. So it bothered him when he noticed that his teammates seemed to be acting down in the dumps. They were only half trying during the first set of drills, and no one was saying much of anything.
    Renny couldn't understand it — they'd been playing so well. And now they were just one victory from the play-offs! Why should any of them be down?
    He wondered what could be bothering them. So during a break, he leaned against one of the goal-posts, listening to some of his teammates talking.
    “The Orange Crush are dirty players,” said Chuck Mathes, the team's goalie. “Last time we played them, Turk Walters kept crashing into me on purpose when the refs weren't looking. I finally complained to the ref, and he stopped doing it, but only because he knew he couldn't get away with it.”
    “What did they beat us by?” Jordan Woo asked.
    “Seven to two. And that was when we had Isaac,” Chuck replied.
    “We better hope for a miracle,” Jordan said. “How's Isaac's ankle?”
    “Forget it. Anyway, Renny's doing just as well, or better even.”
    “Yeah, but Renny might be a fluke. What's it been, two games? He was a sub all season—just like me.”
    Good old Jordan, Renny thought sourly. Always good for a dark comment.
    “Anyway, what's the use in talking about it?” Jordan continued. “We're going to get crushed by the Crush, unless a miracle happens.”
    Renny tossed his paper cup into the trash bag and turned to the two boys. “You know, you guys are already whipped,” he said. “Just because they beat us once, and they're bigger than us, doesn't mean we cant win. We have to win! Otherwise, we're out of the play-offs!”
    “Dun,” Jordan said. “And your point is?”
    “My point is, we've got to believe we can win, or we can't!” Renny said hotly. “We've got to make them scared of us, instead of the other way around.”
    “Oh, right” Chuck snorted. “How do you suggest we do that? Have you seen them? They look like college kids!”
    “Well, for one thing, we use our speed advantage. If we stay far away from each