The men step away from the table and stare at you.
You’re worried that they don’t believe you.
‘Oh, we believe you,’ says one of them, his voice flat and unemotional.
‘It’s part of the experiment,’ says the man next to him, his voice also flat.
‘Our Super Sports Spectacular experiment,’ says the next one along.
They take turns talking, one after the other.
‘Many plans.’
‘Many organisations.’
‘Robots, superheroes and geniuses.’
‘Corporate-induced flatulence and world domination with basketball.’
‘And so much more.’
‘All here together.’
‘All here today.’
‘Independent projects.’
‘But commissioned by us.’
‘Part of our experiment.’
They all take a step towards you.
‘And we can’t let you tell anyone about it,’ they say together.
This is getting too weird! You turn to leave.
But the exit is blocked by yet another tall bald man in sports gear.
You back away as the men advance, each of them pulling a cricket ball from his pocket.
You wish you had a bat.
‘Think quick!’ they all shout, fast bowling the balls … right at your head!
You continue chasing after the basketball team.
Up ahead you see Number 13 disappear into the trees, everyone else hot on her heels. You follow them.
As you race through the undergrowth, you see one of the players throw his basketball.
The ball streaks through the air and hits a tree near Number 13. There’s an explosion of flames and the tree topples.
Explosive basketballs! Well, that must help when planning world domination.
The chase continues.
More basketballs are hurled at Number 13. Thankfully they all miss (some only narrowly), destroying the surrounding vegetation instead.
You keep running. You lose sight of Number 13, and so does the team because they suddenly stop. You only just manage to hide behind a tree before they turn.
‘Over there!’ one of them calls, and they all gather around a tree, gazing up.
You follow their line of sight. Number 13 is cowering in the branches above.
One of the players removes the sweatband from around his head and aims it up as if about to flick a rubber band – a gross, sweat-soaked rubber band.
The sweatband flings up at Number 13. She pulls back, pressing herself up against the trunk. The band hits the branch above her. There’s a crackling sound and sparks.
It’s an electrified sweatband!
A second player flicks his band. A stunned squirrel falls out of the tree.
Another sweatband. A stunned bird.
A fourth band. A possum crashes to the ground.
A fifth band. A flying fox.
Just how much bizarre wildlife is in this tree?
You breathe a sigh of relief. That was the last sweatband. Number 13 is safe.
Actually, no, she isn’t. You forgot about the smaller bands around the players’ wrists. Three birds, two sloths and one ocelot later, Number 13 finally tumbles to the ground.
Now what do you do?
If you want to stay hidden, go here.
If you think it might be better to sneak away, go here.
You follow the coach. But your pogo stick isn’t as fast or as bouncy, so it takes you a while to catch up. By the time you reach the main entrance, there is a full-scale battle taking place.
The coach and her team are fighting a bunch of guys in balaclavas. The pogo sticks are doing incredible things – high bounces, somersaults, net-flinging, laser shooting. Laser shooting?
Yep, that’s right. Two of the team are shooting lasers into the back of a truck filled with show bags.
This is utterly crazy.
You watch as the coach is knocked off her stick by one of the balaclava guys.
You may not know what’s going on, but that’s your coach under attack and you’re determined to help.
You remember what the team members did earlier. You grab your right handlebar and feel underneath, until you find a little knob. You press your finger into it.
With a whirring noise, a small control panel pops up above the handlebar. You stab at a random button.
With a burst of flames, the pogo stick and you are propelled high into the air.
You hold on for dear life and fumble with the controls.
You knock into a passing seagull on your way up. Next comes a flock of sparrows. You burst through the centre of them. Spitting feathers, you continue your climb – past a glider, a light aircraft and then a passenger jet.
The controls don’t seem to be responding.
It’s getting darker and you’re finding it increasingly hard to breathe.
You guess you’ll never find out who won in the battle between the Xpogo players and the balaclava guys.
You’re not sure you believe Number 13’s story of world domination, but you do think the coach and her teams are up to something. So you go back to the gymnasium, sneaking up to the side door. You open it a crack and peer in.
The coach is in the centre of the court, players gathered around her. You’re thinking about slipping in when someone taps you on the shoulder.
You slam the door shut and whirl around.
There’s a guy standing there holding a pogo stick. His enormous nose is pierced, and dangling from it is a silver pogo stick charm.
‘Need a hand?’ he asks.
You stare at him.
‘The Xpogo team is at your service, should you require assistance,’ he says.
What help could a guy with a pogo stick offer? You’re not even sure you need any.
‘Well, if you do need assistance,’ he adds, swinging his pogo stick charm with the tap of a finger, ‘just yell.’ And with a smile and a wave, the guy mounts his pogo stick and hops off.
You shake your head and turn your attention back to the door. Cautiously, you open it and peek in. The coach and her players are standing just inside, glaring down at you.
They reach out and grab you, pulling you into the gymnasium. You scream for help. As the door slams shut you think you catch a glimpse of a shiny pogo stick.
‘A spy,’ dribbles the coach. ‘How quaint. Of course, you realise we can’t let you go.’
You are surrounded by freakishly tall kids. Each of them is holding a basketball in a threatening manner.
CRASH!
The side door flings open and people on pogo sticks come bouncing in. They take up positions around the outer edges of the court. A tough-looking middle-aged woman in a bright yellow tracksuit hops forward on her stick.
‘Coach Sylvester,’ she says. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I’m afraid I can’t let you go around kidnapping children. Bad sportsmanship, coach … BAD!’
‘Coach Cutlip,’ spits the basketball coach. ‘I should have known you and your goody-goody jumping jacks would be standing by to spoil things. But I think you may be outmatched.’
‘We’ll see,’ says Cutlip, bouncing.
‘We will indeed,’ says Sylvester, dribbling.
And then all hell breaks loose.
There are laser beams being fired from pogo sticks!
And basketballs explode when they land!
And sweatbands electrify on impact! You watch one zoom across the court and hit a pogo person on the arm. With a crackling sound and a flash of sparks, he’s thrown from his stick.
Cutlip presses a button on a control panel atop her stick. A net is released, snaring two of the Wantmore players.
This is totally nuts! What are you going to do?
If you think it’s best to take cover, go here.
If you decide to help the pogo people, go here.
Grumbling to yourself you bounce around the asphalt square, practising just like the coach
told you to.
It’s not long before the coach and her team come walking back.
What happened to them? They look like they’ve been in some kind of brawl. A couple are carrying broken pogo sticks, some are limping, and most are sporting cuts, bruises and ripped clothing.
‘We kicked their proverbial posteriors,’ the coach announces.
What?
‘We defeated the WooHoo Money Corporation,’ says the coach, ‘and saved the Super Sports Spectacular from a very smelly fate.’
You have no idea what they’re on about, and they refuse to explain. But one thing’s for sure – you missed out on something big!
But now it’s back to practising. The coach ups your bounce ratio and you make it to the height of three soft drink cans. Yay!
You go up to the coach and demand a bat swap, claiming that the girl is cheating by using a non-regulation bat.
The coach shrugs, takes a nibble of his celery stick, and allows the swap.
As the superhero girl swings at the next ball, Wesley fiddles with his watch. The girl misses and the ball hits the wicket.
Out!
But now you’re faced with a dilemma. Do you let Wesley keep controlling the bat so that the rest of the opposing team miss? Wouldn’t that really be cheating?
If you want to continue using the bat, go here.
If you think your team should now rely on their cricketing skills, go here.
You race up to the strange boy as he picks up his pole, and tell him what you saw. He examines the pole and finds that it is, indeed, damaged.
The coach comes over to see what the matter is.
‘Right,’ says the coach. ‘Time to deal with this.’ He stalks off towards the saboteur.
‘Thank you,’ the strange boy says to you. ‘When the robots take over, I will keep you safe.’ And then he rushes off after the coach.
You watch them take the saboteur, one arm each, and march him off to the coach’s tent. Sports saboteurs? Robots taking over? This is all getting pretty weird.
If you want to drop out of this strange sports day, you could escape to the trees and read a book. Go here.
But if you’ d rather find out what’s going on, you should check the coach’s tent. Go here.
That superhero girl scored a lot of runs for the other team and now you need to catch up. That’s how you justify the continued use of the bat.
Wesley fiddles with his watch and the opposing team are bowled out one by one.
As the last player is declared out, the opposing captain grabs Wesley and brings him over to the coach.
‘This guy is cheating,’ he declares. ‘Look at his watch. He’s controlling the bat.’
The coach picks up the bat to examine it. The captain grabs Wesley’s wrists and twists the buttons on the watch. The bat jumps up in the coach’s hands, knocking him backwards into the tray of drinks that were for the end of the innings.
‘Cheats!’ yells the captain, pushing Wesley over.
‘You cheated first,’ shouts Wesley, hand on watch.
The bat springs out of the coach’s hands and flies through the air at the opposing captain. But the captain ducks and the bat soars over his head … smashing into a trolley full of cakes headed for the food pavilion.
‘You crazy kids,’ shouts the guy pushing the trolley. ‘I’ll teach you to throw bats at defenceless cakes!’ He grabs a mini pavlova and hurls it, smacking you in the face.
You lick pavlova bits off your lips. Yum!
‘Food fight!’ shouts Wesley.
Everyone forgets about the cheating, as cakes fly through the air.
You choose the superhero girl. The boy walks over to the other team.
‘Don’t give me any of the genius trash,’ the captain tells him. ‘Just keep out of my way.’
You think he’s being unnecessarily mean.
The coach announces that it will be ten overs per side, unless all batters are bowled out.
Now it’s time to flip a coin to decide if your team will field or bat first.
Heads means that you’ll bat.
Tails means that you’ll field.
Go here or here.
As Matty continues to babble on about soccer, you sneak off to the Aussie Rules line-up.
You wait in the queue and look at the other kids. They are all older. They are all taller. And they are all BIGGER! You are in a queue of bulging biceps and tree-trunk legs.
You begin having second thoughts.
The people in line for soccer were more your size. Perhaps you should go back there? Go here.
You look across the registration desks. There’s no one over at Xpogo. Maybe you should check that out instead? Go here.
Or you could overcome your fear and stick with the footy. Go here.
You edge carefully away from the tree, keeping your eyes on the players as they lift Number 13.
You turn and start tiptoeing away from them. Carefully. Quietly.
CRACK.
You step on a twig.
It’s a small twig. Maybe they didn’t hear?
Ever so slowly, just like they do in bad horror films, you turn your head to look over your shoulder.
The entire team is standing right behind you, electric sweatbands drawn and aimed.
You’re tempted to smile and wave hello. But instead, you run.
You weave through the trees, stumble through the bushes and finally throw yourself into an overgrowth of lantana, hoping for concealment.
Unfortunately it’s not lantana – it’s poison ivy. Even worse than that, it’s perched at the edge of a cliff!
You tumble through the ivy, getting scratched as you go, and fall out the other side. You manage to grab hold of a branch and are now dangling over the cliff. You look down to see a school of sharks circling in the waters below.
On the bright side, the Wantmore team follows you. You watch them stumble through the leaves, scratching madly, and plummet past you.
But your hand is itchy and swollen. You’re not sure you can hold on for much longer…
Heart thumping, sweat dripping from your brow, you stay hidden behind the tree and wait. Eventually the Wantmore team moves off, carrying Number 13 with them.
You take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. You sink down to the ground, your back against the trunk and close your eyes. You’re too scared to return in case the coach has other players out looking for you. So you stay put. You stay until the Super Sports Spectacular is over. You stay until it’s dark, at which point the ocelots emerge and chase you from the trees. Of course, the buses have stopped running for the day and you now have to walk.
It’s midnight before you finally get home.
Your parents are furious! They don’t believe your story about basketball assault squads, explosive balls, electrified sweatbands and ocelots.
You’re grounded for the rest of your life.
All privileges (television, video games, marbles) are revoked.
You are given extra chores. You’re even made to do tasks for your elderly neighbour, which includes cleaning up dog vomit.
And you are banned from attending any future sports days.
It’s tails and your team is fielding.
You ask the girl whether she really is a superhero. She adjusts her glasses and nods.
What have you got to lose? You make her the opening bowler.
She bowls out the first six batters, then takes to the field and catches out the rest of the batters with her super speed and ability to jump really high.
You make her an opening batter when the teams swap. She hits a six on her first go – and continues to do so until she retires after 54 runs so that the rest of the team can have a turn.
Go here.
It’s heads and your team is batting.
You ask the girl whether she really is a superhero. She adjusts her glasses and nods.
What have you got to lose? You make her an opener.
She hits a six on her firs
t go – and continues to do so until she retires after 54 runs so that the rest of the team can have a turn.
And when it comes time to field, she bowls out the first six batters in her over.
Go here.
You cautiously approach the tent and peer in through the canvas flap.
There are crates positioned around the edge and a table in the centre. The saboteur kid is backed up to the table, the coach holding him by the throat.
He may have tampered with a pole but this saboteur is still just a kid, no older than you. Surely the coach shouldn’t be allowed to treat him this way.
‘Time to make sure you never interfere again,’ you hear the coach say.
What are you going to do?
You could run to the officials’ tent and report the coach. Go here.
But the coach might have hurt the kid by then. Maybe you should burst into the tent and try to stop him? Go here.
You take a deep breath and tell yourself that agility and speed are just as important as size and brawn when it comes to Aussie Rules. You decide to stick with it.
You sign up and head over to the football oval.
The coach, a really short guy with a squashed face and deep voice, runs you and the others through a practice session. You dodge around the bigger players and kick the ball really well.
So when it comes time to play a match, you end up as full-forward. Not all the other players are happy about that and give you murderous looks. The captain of the opposing side, an enormous girl called Crusher, who claims to be 17 but looks about 37, whispers ‘You’re dead meat’ as she passes.
Once play starts, you find yourself jostled about by the other players, including your own team. Whenever the coach, who is refereeing the match, looks in a different direction, someone ‘accidentally’ bumps into you or knocks you over.
Super Sports Spectacular Page 4