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they were finished, the people applauded.
    Tod couldn’t get over it. Ms. Hudson! His fifth-grade teacher—a skater like that!
    Tod practiced dribbling and passing on the ice pond with Snowball, Skip, and some of his other teammates during the week.
     He managed to do better with his studies, too. In school he just couldn’t get over the sight of Ms. Hudson with her glasses
     on, looking so much—well, so much like a teacher. You wouldn’t think
she’d
wear jeans and be able to figure skate so well.
    In the game against the Trojans on January 26, Coach Fillis had Tod playing defense again. Tod tried his best to play his
     position but he just couldn’t block his opponents with his body or intercept the puck with his hockey stick as well as he
     should. The Trojansscored two goals that they should not have, all because Tod couldn’t keep the man from dribbling past him as he swung around
     from behind the net. Both times the Trojan skated up in front of the net and sent the puck blazing past Tim’s shin pads.
    In the second period Coach Fillis didn’t play Tod at all. The coach had Bud Wooley substitute for him. Tod sat on the bench
     and watched the remainder of the game with his heart hurting as it had never hurt before. This was the first time he had missed
     playing. And he deserved it. He knew he did. He wasn’t playing good hockey at all.
    “Cheer up, Toddy, ol’ buddy,” said Snow-ball as Line 2 came off the ice the first time that second period. “Look how many
     times I’ve been down. And I still get up. Don’t take it so hard. That’s the way I look at it.”
    “I guess that’s the best way,” said Tod gloomily.
    But you don’t have a brand-new hockey stick resting in a closet at home,
he thought.
You don’t really care about whether you deserve to play with a new hockey stick or not. I made a promise I’d never play with
     that stick until I deserved it. And I have to do as I promised myself. You don’t know that, Snowball. You don’t know that
     I had wanted that hockey stick more than anything else in this world, and now that I have it, I can’t play with it because
     of that promise.
    Never make a promise like that, Snowball. Never.

9
    T he White Knights were losing, 4-3. They were receiving their first setback of the season.
    Skip Haddock was having a field day of penalties. He was sent to the penalty box twice—once for bodychecking a player against
     the boards, and again for lifting his stick too high and, in doing so, striking an opponent.
    No one on the ice played harder than Skip. He was certainly anxious to pull the game out of the fire for the White Knights.
    Tod watched him admiringly. Even Coach Fillis remarked about him.
    But Skip’s pluck and energy weren’t enough. The White Knights fell victim to the Trojans 4-3.
    In the locker room Coach Fillis praised Skip for his pluckiness, but reminded him about his penalties. “I don’t like unnecessary
     roughness,” he said. “You can always play good, fast hockey without roughing it up. And a high stick in a scramble might tear
     open a boy’s face. Remember that, every one of you.”
    He also pointed out Tod’s mistakes. They were no different than before. Tod was a speedster on skates, said the coach, but
     he still wasn’t able to stickhandle correctly. He still needed more practice. Especially in passing.
    Practice,
thought Tod unhappily.
Probably I practice more than anyone else on the team now.
    “I think you do better as a wingman, anyway, Tod,” said Coach Fillis. “You can get to the puck faster than almost anyone else
     on the team. That’s really important. I’m sure that as time goes on you’ll make out fine.”
    Tod thought of the coach’s kind words as he rode home with Biff. Mr. Fillis was really a good guy. He didn’t “chew you out”
     for not playing well. He usually understood the reasons and tried to offer criticism that would help you.
    Biff’s voice interrupted Tod’s thoughts.