Chapter Five
Maggie’s plans to learn judo were thwarted by her mother.
“No,” she said firmly in answer to Maggie's request. “I will not pay for judo lessons.”
“But I might be good at it, Mum. It would be really good exercise,” pleaded Maggie.
“If its exercise you want, you can mow the lawns for me,” said her mother unsympathetically. “But you are not going to judo lessons.”
“Why not?” whined Maggie.
“Remember Highland dancing?” said her mother. “And banjo lessons and cooking classes and the Junior Conservation Course? The most you ever went to any of those was three times. And each time you decided to give it up when I’d paid the whole year’s subscription.”
“That was when I was little,” muttered Maggie. “I’ve grown up now.”
“No.” said her mother. “I don’t mind if it’s a team sport run by the school or a local club, at least that’s close, but for Judo I’d have to drive into the city twice a week.”
“Are you still on your keep fit kick?” asked Nick teasingly. “What about the great cross-country runner? Aren’t you going to keep that up? There’s an iron man competition on in the city next weekend – you’d only have to run up the mountain. You already biked up and fell down most of it in the weekend.”
Maggie scowled at him.
“There must be some sport that suits me,” she complained.
“Why don’t you try hockey?” asked her mother. “I used to play on the wing when I was at school. It was great fun. I’ve still got my old stick and boots in the cupboard somewhere. I even kept my old skirt.”
Maggie brightened. Hockey. That was a good idea. She could see it now.
‘And now we are interviewing Maggie Johnson the New Zealand woman’s hockey captain. She has just led her team to Olympic gold and she is only 13 years of age. Maggie, you were very impressive in this game. You beat Zimbabwe 7-6 and you scored every goal for New Zealand.’
‘Oh, it was nothing,’ said Maggie modestly. ‘The credit should go to my team mates who all worked together for this tremendous achievement.’
‘You were amazing Maggie. I know the whole country was watching you when you ran forward to score the last goal with a broken ankle. Didn’t it cause you extreme pain?’
‘I ignored the pain. My country’s honour was at stake. After all, the Olympics doesn’t happen every day. It’s a time when women of every creed and race gather to defend New Zealand.’
‘May we photograph you with your gold medal Maggie?’
‘Yes, but you’ll have to hurry. I’m due to row in the single sculls finals before I take my last shot in the discus.’
‘Maggie we are all so proud of you. Who do you attribute your success to?’
‘I owe it all to my mother,’ smiled Maggie. ‘It was she who gave my hockey stick. I still wear her lucky skirt today.’
‘Yes, your fashion sense is sweeping the world. Clothing manufactures can’t keep up with the demand for the Maggie J hockey skirt...’
“Ok,” she agreed. “They’re holding trials for the school team after school on Tuesday so I’ll give it a go. We did a bit of hitting and passing last year in PE but we didn’t learn many of the rules.”
“I’m sure you’ll pick it up easily. I used to love playing hockey,” said her mother with a smile.
Maggie wished that she hadn’t agreed when her mother unearthed a large, brightly striped skirt for her.
“What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s my old hockey skirt,” beamed her mother. “I’m sure it will fit you if I take in the sides.”
“That’s gross,” said Maggie in disgust. “That's horrible. I wouldn’t be seen dead in anything like that. If that’s what hockey players wear, then I won’t bother.”
Her mother was hurt.
“Well you can go in your shorts if you like,” she said, “but I thought you’d like to wear it. It might bring you luck. I scored the winning goal for my school in the inter-school tournament when I wore it. I always hoped that one day my daughter would wear it so that’s why I’ve kept it all these years.”
“Oh all right,” said Maggie wretchedly. At least the boots were ok and they even fitted quite well if she wore two pairs of socks.
“I’ll get you some shin pads and a mouth guard if you decide to play,” said her mother excitedly. “Don’t forget to tell Mrs Clarke that I’m happy to take a car to the games.”
Yes, yes,” said Maggie “You’ve already told me. I heard.”
“Really,” she thought. “Mothers!” Her mother was even bossier than Maggie was at times.
Maggie changed in the school toilets and walked out to the hockey field wearing her mother’s old skirt. Julie, the captain of the First Eleven, started sniggering.
“Why are you wearing a tent?” she asked Maggie innocently. “Are you going camping after this?”
Maggie ground her teeth.
“It’s my mother’s old hockey skirt,” she fumed.
“Oh, an antique!” said Julie. “That explains it. I’ve heard that antiques can be quite valuable.”
“Go boil your head,” muttered Maggie under her breath, as she stamped over to put her name down with Mrs Clarke. This was not a good start. She was obviously wearing the wrong clothes – all the other girls were in shorts and T-shirts – and she felt as if everyone was staring at her. Even Mrs Clarke had given her a funny look when she saw what Maggie was wearing.
“We’ll start off with some practise hits,” announced Mrs Clarke, bringing out a bucket filled with hockey balls. “Everyone take a partner. I want you to stand at least twenty paces apart, then stop the ball and hit it back to your partner.”
The girls rushed around claiming partners and Maggie was left on her own.
“I’ll be your partner Maggie,” said Mrs Clarke taking pity on her. “Right girls, each couple take a ball and start hitting. Here Maggie, stop this.” Mrs Clarke tapped the ball and hit in Maggie's direction. Maggie swung her stick wildly, missed completely, and had to chase off and retrieve the ball, interrupting four other players as she did so.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, red in the face. She put the ball on the ground and swung her stick at it. The stick missed the ball and narrowly avoided hitting Julie in the head. Julie yelped and pointedly moved a lot further away from her.
“Try hitting lower down,” advised Mrs Clarke. “This is hockey, not golf.”
Maggie lifted her stick and hit again. A clump of grass shot up into the air but the ball remained at her feet.
“Try again, Maggie,” called Mrs Clarke, loudly and clearly.
Frantic with embarrassment, Maggie swung her stick desperately. There was a ‘crack’ as the stick hit the ball then to Maggie’s horror the ball lifted into the air and travelled straight at Mrs Clarke's face. Mrs Clarke lifted her own stick and deftly tapped the ball to the ground.
“Good thing I used to be a goalie,” she observed calmly. “Let’s try it again, Maggie.” She hit the ball back to Maggie who managed to stop it with her boot.
“Yes, well, that’s not really legal,” explained Mrs Clarke, “but it’s at least something. Now hit it back and try not to get the stick under the ball.”
After hacking up a few unlucky clumps of grass, Maggie managed to get the ball to trickle back to Mrs Clarke. After a few more minutes of this, Mrs Clarke divided the girls into two teams of eleven. One side was handed yellow armbands.
“We’ll have a quick game with running substitutes so I can see how you play,” she explained. “When I call your name, come off the pitch and one of the reserves will run on.” She lined up the reserves in order and Maggie found herself last.
It was a frantic game. The girls were desperate to show how well they could play.
“Pass it,” called Mrs Clarke. “Don’t forget this is a team game. It’s not how well you play individually that matters, but how well you play as part of the team.”
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br /> Maggie watched in excitement. She knew the idea of the game was to pass it between the players then take a shot at the goal. The Yellow side were winning 6 – 3 and Maggie hoped she would get to go on that side. The score crept up to 8 – 5 to Yellow and there was only one player in front of Maggie waiting to go on.
“Change,” called Mrs Clarke. “Sarah and Veronica come off and Maggie and Joanne go on.” Joanne ran forward and accepted Sarah's yellow armband while Maggie ran towards Veronica.
“You’re inside left,” called Veronica, as Maggie importantly took her place on the field.
“No, no, Maggie, left, left, you’re on the wrong side,” called Mrs Clarke. Maggie changed sides and ran towards a group of girls who were battling with their sticks over the ball. Taking a deep breath Maggie swung her stick and connected with the ankles of one of her own team players.
“Oh, oh, that hurts,” moaned Elizabeth. “I’m on your side you idiot, go and cripple someone else. And stay in position. You shouldn’t even be over here.”
“Sorry,” squeaked Maggie. She spent the next few minutes standing in position waiting for the ball to come her way. All the action seemed to be on the other side of the field. She stood with stick at the ready, trying to look keen and confident. At last the ball came in her direction.
“Yours, Maggie,” called Elizabeth.
Maggie set off towards the ball as it came speeding down the pitch. Running as fast as she could, she felt a flapping around her knees. To her horror, the stitches were coming loose on her skirt. As she ran it slowly descended past her hips, hobbling her knees so she couldn’t run. Maggie gave a gasp of dismay and frantically hitched the skirt up with one hand. With the other hand she thrust her stick out towards the ball and tripped up Linda, the Yellow captain.
“Ah!” yelled Linda “Watch where you put your stick, can’t you?” She shook off Maggie’s offered hand and stormed off. Maggie heaved a sigh of relief as the whistle blew.
“That will do for now, girls,” said Mrs Clarke “I’ll make up the team lists and put them on the gym notice board on Friday. We’ll start proper practises next week but make sure you keep fit in the meantime by jogging or doing exercises.”
“How did you get on?” Maggie’s mother asked her eagerly when she arrived home with the hated hockey skirt pushed firmly to the bottom of her school bag.
“Oh, ok, well, not very good actually,” confessed Maggie as she helped herself to an apple from the sideboard. “I don’t think my arms and legs were put on the right way for hockey.”
Her mother laughed and ruffled Maggie's hair.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I enjoyed hockey but there's no rule that says you should too. Anyway, don’t give up yet. You might have got into a team.”
On Friday morning Maggie went along to the gym. Sure enough, there was the notice board with the hockey teams displayed. Maggie searched in vain for her name but it wasn’t there. Mrs Clarke came out of her office.
“Ah, Maggie, hello,” she said.
“I’m not in a hockey team,” said Maggie sadly.
“I’m afraid not. I had too many girls and I had to choose the best. Some of the girls will be reserves but there wasn’t a place for you. Most of the girls have been playing for a couple of years already. You are very welcome to come along to practises and learn some skills though.”
“Thanks,” said Maggie, “but I expect I'll be too busy.” She looked around frantically. A notice about the soccer season caught her eyes. “I’m going to play soccer,” she said confidently.
Mrs Clarke looked taken aback.
“Oh, are you dear? Well that’s, er, a good idea. You’ll be able to use your boots anyway and the rules are similar.”
“Yes,” agreed Maggie, who had only a rough idea of what most of the hockey rules were, and almost no idea about soccer. She did know that both soccer and hockey had eleven players in a team.
“Good luck then,” smiled Mrs Clarke and Maggie turned her attention to the soccer notice.
“I’d better find out about it in case she asks me,” she thought.
The soccer club was having an open day and registration day on Saturday.
“That’s tomorrow,” thought Maggie. “It says all ages from seven years upward so I’m certainly not the wrong age. I won’t tell anyone I’m going though. Just in case I don’t enjoy it.”
That night Maggie nearly choked on her macaroni as her father announced he was going to the soccer open day the next morning.
“Why?” asked Maggie.
“They’ve asked me to coach the under 18’s,” said her father. “I had a couple of years off coaching when Doug Campbell was here but now he’s been transferred, Nick’s team will need a coach.”
“Do any girls play?” asked Maggie casually.
“Yes, but not in the Under 18’s. There aren’t any good enough,” snorted Nick.
“Now hang on Nick, be fair,” said his father. “Yes there are a few girls in our club that play, although most of them are younger than you, and they fit in with the boys. Some clubs have all girl teams and a competition of their own but our club is a bit small for that.”
“I still think it should be a male only game,” stated Nick “Let girls stick to things like synchronised swimming or nail varnish drying races.”
“What a terrible attitude Nick,” laughed his mother. “I thought we’d brought you up to be a bit more open-minded than that.”
“I was only teasing,” grinned Nick.
Maggie spluttered in rage.
“Girls can do anything. New Zealand was the first country to recognise that women were equal and gave us the vote. I think girls should be able to play soccer if they want to. I’m certainly going to,” she finished.
There was a startled silence.
“You!” said Nick in amazement. “Play soccer? You?”
“Are you sure Maggie?” asked her mother.
“Yes,” said Maggie decidedly.
“Good on you,” said her father. “It’s a great game. It’s not as if there’s much contact between the players,” he reassured his wife. “It depends on ball skills and foot work.”
“I don’t know why you would even want to try it, Maggie,” said Nick. “You’ve never bothered coming to watch any of the games I’ve played in over the years. You’re hopeless when it comes to catching balls so what makes you think you’d be any better at kicking them?”
His father frowned at him.
“Give her a chance Nick. She may turn out to be quite competent with a bit of coaching. She’s certainly fit enough if all those daily runs are anything to go by. Tell you what, Maggie, we’ll grab the soccer ball and take it out onto the back lawn as soon as we’ve finished tea and I’ll give you some pointers.”
Nick looked unconvinced but made no objection.
Maggie went to bed with a nervous feeling in her stomach. What had she let herself in for? She had spent an hour kicking the ball around with her father and despite his encouragement she was not entirely sure she was going to enjoy playing soccer. So much for not telling anyone. There was no danger of her being in Nick’s team, but she hoped the other boys in the club wouldn’t give her a hard time.
“Oh well,” she sighed as she turned over sleepily, “at least I’m getting fit. I should suggest that Mr Marshall gives a prize to the person who tries the most sports. That has to be me!”
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