Super Sports Spectacular

by George Ivanoff

  About the Book

  You are ready for a day of fun-filled physical activity. There are so many cool sports to try, but you notice that the competitors look a little unnatural.

  The basketball players are way too tall and some kids look strangely perfect. Are they human or could they be robots in disguise?

  Will you become a sporting star or a victim of the weirdest world domination plan ever?

  You choose…

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  You Choose 7: Super Sports Spectacular

  Collect them all

  About the Author

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  For my good friend Martin Reilly, with thanks for the corporate-induced rainbow flatulence – G.I.

  Are you ready for a fun-filled day of physical activity? A day of sports and competitions and exercise? Well, you better be…

  ‘Welcome to the Super Sports Spectacular!’?

  The announcer’s cheery and enthusiastic voice blasts through the speakers of the newly constructed sports complex.

  ‘It’s almost time to start, so hurry up and choose your sport for the day,’ he continues. ‘Each sport will have a coach to help newbies learn the ropes. Or join up to your favourite sport and compete against students from different schools. Our generous sponsor, the WooHoo Money Corporation, will also be providing participants with a show bag later in the day. Finally, above all, remember to have FUN!’

  You look around the registration area at the tables with signs above them, including Tennis, Table Tennis, Volleyball, Lacrosse, Swimming, Water Polo, Camel Wrestling. So much to choose from. How are you going to make a decision?

  How about cricket? You’re pretty good at that. Go here.

  But your best friend is in line for soccer. Maybe you should join him? Go here.

  You’re not sure you’re tall enough for basketball, but you’ve always wanted to try it. Go here.

  Then again, track and field has also caught your eye. To sign up for that, go here.

  Then you notice Xpogo. You wonder if that involves pogo sticks. Perhaps it’s worth checking out? Go here.

  But maybe sport isn’t your thing? If you’d rather sneak off to read a book, go here.

  You sign up for cricket and head to the pitch along with the others. There’s quite a range of ages, from primary to high school kids.

  The coach, a tall blond-haired man with a stick of celery pinned to the lapel of his old-fashioned cricket jacket, draws two names at random to be the captains.

  And you’re one of them. You and the other person take turns choosing team members. The older, sportier kids get chosen first, then the middle graders … until there are only two kids left – a ten-year-old girl and an even younger boy.

  It’s your turn to pick next, but you can’t decide. You ask them why they should be on your team.

  ‘’Cause I’m a superhero,’ says the girl, adjusting her glasses.

  Everyone laughs.

  ‘Because, despite my age and appearance, I am a genius,’ says the boy, clutching a cricket bat protectively to his chest. ‘I can help you win the game.’

  You stare doubtfully at both of them.

  ‘Statistically speaking,’ pipes up the boy, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, ‘the odds of me being a genius are far greater than the odds of anyone here having superpowers.’

  You’re not sure you believe either of them. So who will you choose?

  To pick the girl, go here.

  To pick the boy, go here.

  You join your best friend, Matty, in line for soccer.

  ‘Oh cool,’ says Matty. ‘I thought Aussie Rules footy might be more your thing, but it’s great to have you do soccer with me.’

  Footy? You didn’t see a sign for footy. You look around and spot it. Meanwhile, Matty is still talking.

  ‘Although, it doesn’t really make much sense to call Aussie Rules football. I mean, players get to catch the ball and bounce it and stuff. Soccer is the real football. Most other countries see it that way too because it’s all about using your feet to move the ball. So you could even say soccer is much more a game of football than Aussie Rules…’

  Matty drones on and you tune him out. He’s a bit obsessed with soccer. You’d much rather play footy, but Matty would be disappointed if you left now.

  If you want to stick with your friend, go here.

  If you want to ditch Matty and soccer in favour of footy, go here.

  You sign up for basketball and go to the indoor courts in the gymnasium, right next to the pool. The place is decked out with signage for Wantmore Academy, the exclusive school running basketball for the day.

  ‘Listen up,’ announces the coach, a tall thin woman with gangly arms and legs, and a head that looks too big. ‘You will be divided up into teams. Rather than playing against each other, you will be playing against one of the Wantmore Academy teams.’ As she talks, droplets of spit fly from the corners of her mouth. Gross!

  You find yourself on the team set to play first. The coach brings in the Wantmore teams. These kids look unbelievable. They are tall – unnaturally tall! The shortest guy on the team is at least six foot.

  You’re not sure you want to play against this lot, but the other sports are probably full by now. Then you remember there was no one in line for Xpogo. You could still sign up for that.

  If you want to try Xpogo, go here.

  But if you want to stick with basketball, go here.

  You sign up for track and field, and jog over to the track. Feeling enthusiastic, you decide to try out all the different events, from running to shot-put, from steeplechase to discus.

  The first event is the 100-metre sprint. You line up with nine other kids in your age group. The starter yells, ‘On your marks. Get set. Go!’

  You’re off, racing as hard as you can. But you don’t stand a chance. One kid dashes ahead of everyone.

  You come fourth. You’re panting and sweating, and you have to rest your arms on your knees to catch your breath. But the kid who won seems completely unaffected.

  He’s a bit odd-looking, in that he looks too perfect. Symmetrical face, smooth pimple-free skin, neat hair with no strands out of place – despite the fact that he has just run a race.

  If this kid is going to be in the other events, is there even any point in competing?

  If you want to drop out and sign up for basketball instead, go here.

  To persist and enter the next event, go here.

  You head over to the Xpogo registration table. There’s no one lining up, just you.

  A short distance away you see a teenager on a pogo stick, bouncing around uncontrollably. He looks like he’s trying to hold onto a bucking bronco as he springs around all over the place. He bounces off towards the swimming pool and splashes into the water.

  ‘Welcome to Xpogo, the extreme pogo stick sport,’ says the lady behind the desk, sounding bored. She pushes a pen and form towards you. ‘You’ll need to sign a waiver agreeing that we’re not responsible for any injuries you may sustain.’

  There’s a commotion over at the pool as a lifeguard pulls the teenager and his pogo stick out of the water.

  You’re beginning to have second thoughts.

  Perhaps you should sign up for cricket instead. Go here.

  But if you want to stick with Xpogo, go here.

  You casually walk away from the registration area and slip around the back of the sponsor’s tent, the big WooHoo Money Corporation logo splashed across its side – a grinning smiley-face with dollar signs in place of eyes. You glance around the massive sports compl
ex. There are ovals, tracks, swimming pools and gymnasiums – even a makeshift pen for the camels and their wrestlers. Beyond is an area of trees and tracks where the cross-country runners will race. You figure that would be a good place to hide yourself away.

  You’re about to head off in that direction when you hear raised voices from inside the WooHoo tent.

  ‘The show bags should’ve been here already,’ a man shouts. ‘This puts all our plans in jeopardy.’

  Plans? What plans?

  If you’re curious to find out, keep listening in. Go here.

  But, really, how interesting could a sports day sponsor’s plans be? You might be better off heading for the trees to read your book. Go here.

  You sign the form and the lady points you towards a square patch of asphalt near the rugby field.

  When you arrive, the coach is talking to a bunch of people wearing lots of protective pads and holding pogo sticks. She’s a tough-looking middle-aged woman in a bright yellow tracksuit.

  ‘I’ll be with you in a sec,’ she calls, and continues her conversation.

  You look around. There’s a row of coloured pogo sticks lined up along a bar at the edge of the asphalt. You wonder if you should try out one of the sticks … or wait for the coach.

  The sensible thing to do would be to stay put. Go here.

  But what’s the harm in having just a little trial jump for now? Go here.

  You decide to stick with basketball. The game begins.

  By the end of the first quarter, the Wantmore team has scored 23 goals to your team’s big fat zero. They’ve doubled this by half-time.

  You’re dripping with sweat but determined to continue. Three teammates drop out and are replaced with fresh players for the second half. It doesn’t help. At the close of the match your team still hasn’t managed to score a single point.

  It’s time for the second match, giving you a chance to take a rest … or so you think.

  It seems that most of the kids who signed up for basketball have changed their minds and left during the first match. There are only six kids left, and you need five for a team. Despite being exhausted, it looks as if you’re going to have to play again. Or will you?

  To play in the next match, go here.

  But there would still be enough players without you, so you could pull out and cool down in the pool next door. Go here.

  After signing up, you and Matty head down to the soccer pitch.

  The coach divides everyone up into teams. Not only are you and Matty separated, but you find yourselves playing against each other… both as midfielders.

  You know how to play soccer and you’re okay at it, but Matty lives and breathes this sport. He runs rings around you, and every time the ball comes near, Matty is there to intercept, dazzling you with his fancy dribbling and whisking the ball away.

  By the second half, you’re feeling really down. But then the ball is kicked straight at you. You glance around – Matty is nowhere in sight. This is your chance. You race for it.

  You’re almost there.

  You’re about to kick the ball.

  Out of nowhere, Matty appears and steals it from under your feet.

  Anger shoots through you. You have a sudden urge to stop Matty at any cost. It would be so easy to stick out your leg and trip him. But could you do that to your best friend?

  If you let your fury take control, go here.

  But if you decide to subdue your feelings, go here.

  You pick the genius boy. The girl walks over to the other team.

  ‘Don’t give me any of that superpowers trash,’ the captain tells her. ‘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.

  The next event is the pole vault. You head over to the bar, which is surrounded by large padded mats.

  As you and the other competitors listen to the coach explaining the rules and procedures, you notice a boy hanging around the poles, which are laid out off to the side. The poles are all different colours, and he’s doing something to the red one as he furtively looks around. Then he dashes off. Has he sabotaged it?

  The coach assigns each competitor a colour. Yours is blue. The strange boy who won the 100-metre sprint is given red. Should you warn him that someone has tampered with this pole?

  If you decide to warn him, go here.

  If you decide not to say anything, go here.

  You wander into the trees and find yourself a spot under a large willow. You dig a copy of How to Avoid Sport and Influence People from your backpack, and settle down to read.

  The branches of the old willow hang down almost to the ground, encircling you in a peaceful curtain of green.

  You spend the day happily reading. When you return to the sports grounds, people are talking about a pogo stick battle, rainbow farts, superheroes, robots and exploding basketballs. Seems like you missed out on quite a lot.

  But, then again, you did enjoy the book.

  You need to know what these plans are, so you press your ear to the outside of the tent.

  ‘Would you calm down and relax,’ says a female voice coolly.

  ‘But we should be giving out the show bags NOW!’ The male voice is still panicky.

  ‘We’ll hand them out later,’ says the woman. ‘That’ll probably work better anyway. The kids will have been waiting longer for the show bags, and will be more excited to see what’s inside.’

  ‘Poison!’ gloats the man.

  ‘I wouldn’t quite call it that,’ says the woman. ‘Poison implies death or physical harm. My substance is not a poison. It will not hurt anyone. It will simply make their lives unbearable … with pungent, visible flatulence.’

  ‘Stinky, rainbow farts!’ interrupts the man.

  ‘Well, yes, if you must put it that way,’ says the woman, with obvious distaste. ‘And then we will make a fortune by selling people the antidote.’

  ‘Money, money, money,’ says the man. ‘Lots and lots and lots of it!’

  ‘Now,’ says the woman, ‘go to the main entrance and wait for the delivery truck.’

  You step back. Poison! Stinky, rainbow farts! Something needs to be done about this evil scheme … but what?

  You could go to the officials’ tent and report what you have discovered to the organisers of the Super Sports Spectacular. Go here.

  Or do you handle this yourself? Go here.

  It’s half an hour before the coach finally comes over. She tells you to put on a helmet and pads before you get on a stick. She explains how to get on and stay balanced, and then lets you have a go.

  The pogo stick doesn’t bounce very high. You can’t seem to get any higher than a soft drink can.

  ‘I’ll up the bounce ratio on your stick once you get the hang of it,’ assures the coach.

  You want to know when that will be.

  ‘I usually like to let newbies have an hour or so on low-bounce before I turn it up,’ she answers.

  You ask when you get to learn tricks. After all, this is extreme pogo.

  ‘Tricks?’ The coach laughs. ‘First you need balance and harmony and inner peace.’

  You’re disappointed. You were hoping for something a little more exciting. You think about signing up for something else, but it’s too late.

  Maybe you could go to the trees beyond the sports complex and read a book till it’s all over. Go here.

  Or you could just stick with it. Go here.

  You can’t resist – you’ve got to try out one of the pogo sticks.

  You grab the sporty-looking red model and jump on. Losing your balance, you fall off before you can even have one bounce.

  A couple of younger kids skipping by
point and laugh at you.

  You try again.

  This time you manage to stay on. You bounce around and gain balance. You almost fall, but manage to grip on tighter. That’s when you feel a little knob on the underside of the right handle. You press it with your finger.

  With a whirring noise, a small control panel pops up from the middle of the handlebar. You’re so surprised you almost fall off again. As you grasp at the handles, your fingers brush along the controls.

  With a burst of flames, the pogo stick and you are propelled high into the air.

  You hold on for dear life and stab at some more of the controls.

  You knock into a passing seagull and then your pogo-jet cuts out.

  Now you’re falling! And screaming!

  Luckily, you’re heading for the pool. You take a deep breath as you plunge into the water. Hitting the bottom, your stick bounces you back up.

  Now you descend into the middle of a rugby match, the players scattering. Then it’s up again. And down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

  You’re heading for the food pavilion.

  The canvas rips as you crash through the tent and into the meat pie stand. As you boing back up you’re covered in sloppy mince and sauce. Could this get any worse?