Hockey isn't as common a subject as baseball, football, or basketball in Matt Christopher's junior novels, but he writes the game action competently even as he adds his signature sprinkling of the paranormal. Young Pie Pennelli is an adequate right winger for the Penguins of his Fly League hockey team. He isn't their top scorer—that would be Terry "the terrible" Mason, an outspoken defenseman who's always heckled Pie for his blunders on the ice but has ridden him especially hard lately—and he isn't their best player—that's probably goalkeeper Ed Courtney, who steals a tilt or two for the Penguins with his stellar saves—but Pie plays hard and doesn't quit on his teammates.
After defeating the Bears by a single goal one December Saturday morning, Pie's younger next-door neighbors, twins Jody and Joliette, approach him after the game. They recently found an old-fashioned miniature hockey game with plywood cutout players in their attic, and pretended yesterday they were playing as Pie's Penguins versus the Bears. Incredibly, the real game today played out exactly as their simulated one did the night before, down to the smallest reproducible detail. Could magic be at work? Hesitant to accept the connection at first, Pie gradually changes his mind as game after game for the Penguins goes precisely the way Jody and Joliette's toy predicts, even when it comes to injuries and penalties. But how much information does Pie wish to know about the future? Being aware of the outcome ahead of time doesn't make him a better player, so Terry "the terrible" still yells at him every game, but when Terry overhears Pie and the twins discussing the magic of their mini game, his curiosity is piqued, too. He wouldn't steal their game, would he? More importantly, what significance will two Penguins players being aware of the magic have on the way games unfold? And what is the mechanism for the toy's predictive powers? As Pie examines the strange toy more closely, some answers come to light and others don't, destined to remain hidden forever. That's the nature of magic, but maybe this magic can also bring a pair of teammates to better understand each other, if not be friends. That's better than being able to divine one's gaming future from a dozen plywood figures twirling on a toy rink.
Ice Magic isn't Matt Christopher's best novel, but I appreciate that he didn't neglect to write something for young hockey fans. Juvenile sports fiction abounds for fans of other sports, but not so much ice hockey, at least not in the United States. Like every sport, hockey teaches players of any age or skill level how to cope with winning and losing, through repetition if nothing else. When one wins a hundred games and loses just as many, the emotional upheaval after a hard-fought contest becomes easier to keep in check. As Ice Magic observes, "They had learned to accept losses without crying over them. There would be other games, other chances for victory." Even for players with no hope of progressing to play at higher levels, that lesson is indispensable, and being on a sports team is a good way to learn it.
Matt Christopher's storytelling isn't as richly detailed or emotionally satisfying as that of some kids' sports authors—Mike Lupica, for example—but his writing is competently paced and will appeal to young sports fans. If you want some hockey-based fun during the season, try this book. I think you'll have a good time.