The Trophy of Champions Read Online Free Page B

proudly.
    Papa Niko lowered his bags and shook Whisker’s paw.
    â€˜That’s a mighty strong striker’s grip you’ve got there,’ he said, clutching Whisker’s right arm. ‘I take it you’ve played some Death Ball?’
    â€˜A little,’ Whisker replied.
    â€˜It’s a great game, Death Ball,’ Papa Niko said, with a broad smile. ‘Why, it was just the other day I was talking to Frankie Belorio about that very thing.’
    â€˜Frankie Belorio?’ Whisker said, trying to place the name.
    â€˜You know,’ Papa Niko went on. ‘Frankie the fl ame, the Big B, Super Slammer of ’86, the fastest Bilby in the Aladryan league, world record holder for the most goals scored in consecutive games …’
    â€˜Yes, of course,’ Whisker said, still drawing a blank, ‘him.’
    â€˜Do you want his autograph?’ Papa Niko asked. ‘I can get it for you – no sweat. I know he’s a big celebrity and all but he’s on a promotional tour in Two Shillings Cove, not far from here, and he owes me a favour.’
    â€˜Gee, thanks,’ Whisker mumbled.
    â€˜Speaking of all things Frankie,’ Papa Niko continued, ‘I’ve got an inside scoop – straight from the Bilby’s mouth. I’m yet to learn the details, but Frankie’s working on a new set play for the winter season.’ He beckoned for Whisker and Horace to move closer and whispered, ‘It’s called the Double Decoy – Centre Steal. Pretty amazing, hey? You should see his set plays from last season – unbelievable! I’ll show you sometime. When’s your next training session?’
    â€˜Err … I’m not exactly sure,’ Whisker replied, ‘but right now we need to get ready for the opening ceremony.’
    â€˜Of course you do,’ Papa Niko laughed. ‘Hey, that reminds me, I saw some of the other teams down at the marina – big strong brutes, all of them. Boy oh boy, it’s going to be a fierce competition.’

The Centenary Games
    Dressed in their official team colours of red, black and gold, the Pie Rats stood in the shadows of the dark tunnel, awaiting their entry cue. Large sheets of bark curved over their heads, supported by a framework of sticks and rope. Through small cracks in the bark, Whisker could see the flickering light of hundreds of flaming torches in the grandstands above him. The dull stomping of feet and the muffled shouts of excited spectators reverberated through the roof.
    Clearly visible at the end of the tunnel was the glorious Death Ball arena, a dusty circle of earth where challengers would battle for victory in the days to come.
    Joining the Pie Rats in the tunnel were their team officials: Granny Rat (Head Coach), the Hermit (Team Trainer) and Rat Bait (Chief of Security). The noticeable absentees were Madam Pearl (Team Sponsor) and the three mice. With an enormous bounty on her head, the fugitive white weasel had decided it was safer not to attend the games, while Mr Tribble, Eaton and Emmie were forced to return to Oakbridge Primary School for the start of the autumn term.
    Whisker was glad to have Rat Bait as a valued member of the team. The reformed scoundrel had found a new lease on life since landing on the island and he seemed determined to prove his loyalty to the Pie Rats. Wearing a black shirt marked SECURITY, he appeared to know more than anyone about the evening’s proceedings, and it came as no surprise to Whisker to learn that Rat Bait and the Hermit were both members of Granny Rat’s original Pirate Cup team.
    â€˜Any moment now,’ Rat Bait whispered to Whisker, as the sound of the crowd grew louder. ‘It’s always the same. As soon as the mysterious organiser appears, the teams’ll parade out.’ He gave his swollen eye a quick rub. ‘Tell me when we’re up, lad, me vision’s still a bit hazy.’
    Whisker looked cagily