Super Sports Spectacular

by George Ivanoff

  Inside the boy is lying on a table. The coach is standing beside him, holding the boy’s dismembered arm. The boy’s chest is open. And there are wires everywhere – poking out from his chest, spilling from his shoulder joint; even his eyeballs are dangling from wires. At this point, it’s pretty obvious that…

  The boy is a ROBOT!

  You rush forward for a better look.

  The robot suddenly sits up and grabs your arm.

  The crates around the edges of the tent slowly creak open. Boys and girls with blank faces step out. Not blank as in lacking emotion, but blank as in without features.

  ‘I am afraid that we cannot allow you to reveal our secret,’ says the coach. ‘One of my children will have to replace you.’

  One of the kid-bots steps up to you. As it touches your hand, its face distorts and reforms with a copy of your face. It’s like looking into a mirror. It smiles and heads out of the tent to rejoin the track and field competitions.

  The other robots take a step towards you and raise their hands. Their index fingers start glowing.

  ‘We shall begin by wiping your mind,’ says the coach, his own index finger glowing.

  They reach out towards you. The luminous light of their robotic fingers fills your vision.

  And then all is white nothingness!

  Your temper gets the better of you. You turn and march across the court to the coach. You see Number 13 still sitting on the bench. She’s shaking her head frantically and mouthing the word ‘no’, but you ignore her.

  ‘Losers!’ The coach is still crowing, spit spraying in all directions.

  You stride up to the coach. You try to tell her what you think of her coaching methods, but she keeps shouting over the top of you, repeating the word ‘losers’ over and over again. What is wrong with this person?

  You threaten to report her to the officials.

  This shuts her up. She’s not looking so happy anymore.

  ‘Oh dear,’ says the coach. ‘I can’t let you do that.’ She nods to her team.

  The five players each take a basketball from the crate by the door and stalk over.

  You back away, but find yourself surrounded by their towering forms. They’re glaring down at you with murderous intent, holding their basketballs in a threatening manner.

  ‘Squad,’ calls the coach, ‘lock and load!’

  The players draw back their arms, basketballs held high.

  ‘Fire!’

  They throw the balls at you … hard!

  You jump out from behind the bin, tomato sauce still oozing down your shirt.

  The men in balaclavas are trying to knock the pogo people off their bouncy sticks. But the pogo people are pretty good at springing out of the way.

  You see the man in the suit fish his mobile phone from his pocket. You realise that he’s probably calling for backup from the WooHoo Money Corporation.

  You dash across the footpath, knocking the phone from his hand. It smashes onto the concrete. He shakes his fist at you.

  You continue running towards the main battle. One of the bouncing people presses a button on the weird control panel on top of her stick. A net flings out. You dodge it just in time and the net wraps itself around one of the balaclava men. He falls to the ground, trapped.

  You head for the truck. Jumping up into the back of it, you grab one of the show bags. You’re about to check out the contents, when you notice two of the pogo people bouncing towards you. Are those laser beams shooting out of their sticks?

  You jump from the truck just as a stack of show bags burst into flames. You land heavily on the footpath, a wave of dizziness overcoming you. You manage to crawl along, getting clear of all the fighting pogo people and balaclava men. Then you black out.

  When you wake up, you discover that you’re lying behind the stinky bin, a greasy burger wrapper stuck to your cheek. You peel it off and sit up. The show bag, a little crumpled, is underneath you.

  You look around. The battle is over. The truck is gone. Everything, except you and the bin, has been cleaned up.

  Has the evil plot been foiled?

  You check out the contents of the bag – some brochures about the WooHoo Money Corporation, a sticker with the WooHoo logo, a temporary tattoo of the WooHoo logo, and a bottle of WooHoo Sport Water. So that’s how they were going to poison people … through the water.

  You carefully pour the liquid into the bin. As you pick up the other contents to throw away, the tattoo imprints onto your still greasy hand.

  Your skin tingles.

  You drop everything.

  The sensation travels up your arm, spreads through your body and into your tummy. It rumbles. You feel a build-up of tingling pressure and before you know it … you let one rip!

  A rainbow cloud of stench explodes from your shorts.

  The poison was in the tattoos, not the water bottles!

  As you gasp for air, you wonder how much the WooHoo Money Corporation is going to charge you for the antidote.

  You stay behind the stinky bin, peeking around the edge.

  The men in balaclavas are trying to knock the pogo people off their bouncy sticks. But the pogo people are pretty good at springing out of the way. You see a girl press a button on the weird control panel on top of her stick. A net flings out and wraps itself around one of the balaclava men. He falls to the ground, trapped.

  You notice that the guy in the suit is frantically talking into his mobile phone. And a crowd of onlookers has begun to form.

  Two pogo people charge at the truck. Something is shooting from their pogo sticks. Are those laser beams? A beam hits the stacks of show bags in the back of the truck. The bags burst into flames.

  A couple of the balaclava men intercept the pogo people heading for the truck, knocking them off their sticks. Another jumps out of the front of the truck with a fire extinguisher.

  Then a helicopter descends from the sky. A grappling hook lowers from the chopper and attaches to the top of the truck. As the helicopter lifts higher, the truck rises into the air. Dropping show bags as it goes, the helicopter flies over the sports complex.

  One of the pogo people launches into the air, jets propelling her and the stick up. She hits into the underside of the flying truck and crashes back to the ground, making even more show bags fall from the sky, ready to be scooped up by eager kids.

  Looking back to the battle, you see that the pogo people have finally overcome the balaclava men.

  But it’s too late.

  People are picking up the show bags and checking out the contents. They are drinking from the bottles of WooHoo Sports Water. They are applying the WooHoo temporary tattoos to their arms. They are sticking WooHoo stickers onto their backpacks.

  Within minutes, people are clutching their tummies as multi-coloured puffs of stink explode from their posteriors.

  A thick rainbow cloud has started to form across the grounds, accompanied by the sound of mass farting. As the stench reaches your nostrils, you realise that the WooHoo Money Corporation’s evil plot has succeeded.

  You choose to ignore the coach and her taunts, following your teammates out of the gymnasium.

  Outside the other kids decide to ditch the rest of the sports day. You’re not sure you want to do that.

  As you consider your options, you notice Number 13 sneaking out the side door of the gymnasium. You confront her, demanding to know what’s up with the spitty coach and the freaky Wantmore teams.

  ‘Stay away from them,’ she hisses.

  But you need to know what’s going on.

  ‘They’re not just basketball teams,’ Number 13 finally reveals. ‘They’re assault squads. The coach has been recruiting the tallest kids around the country, giving them scholarships to Wantmore, and then training them for basketball and combat. She’s nuts and she’s trying to take over the world!’

  Basketball teams taking over the world? That sounds a bit bonkers.

  ‘Yes, it is bonkers,’ agrees Number 13. ‘And t
hat’s exactly why it’s going to work. No one would ever suspect it. She’s planning to enter teams in competitions all across the globe. Once the teams are in key strategic positions, she’ll give them the signal to attack and take over the governments.’

  With that, Number 13 scurries away.

  But do you believe her?

  If you think Number 13 is telling the truth, you should tell the officials immediately. Go here.

  If you’re not so sure yet and want to do a bit more investigating yourself, return to the gymnasium and see what else you can find out. Go here.

  You slowly get to your feet, cross your arms and stare up (way up – remember how tall she is?) defiantly into the coach’s eyes.

  The coach leans down until her nose is almost touching yours.

  And then she bursts out laughing. It’s like being caught in an April shower – little dribbles of spit rain down on you. You wipe your face on your sleeve. What’s so funny, you wonder?

  ‘Poor Abigail,’ says the coach, regaining control. ‘She has such an imagination. Fancy that – taking over the world with basketball teams, one dribble at a time.’ She laughs again. You hold up an arm to stop your face from getting wet. ‘When the others bring her back,’ she continues, ‘we’ll give her a nice cup of tea to calm her down.’

  Taking over the world with basketball teams does sound completely and utterly ridiculous. What were you thinking, believing such a crazy story?

  You return to the game and are well and truly beaten by the Wantmore team. Then you head over to the pool for a swim. You forget all about Number 13 and what she told you.

  Oh boy, are you surprised when six months later, the world is under the control of Wantmore Academy and you have to bow down, damp with spit, to the Supreme Coach of the World!

  Jumping to your feet, you dodge past the coach and dash out of the gymnasium. You chase after the Wantmore team as they pursue player Number 13.

  She’s weaving between kids and teachers, coaches and teams, cutting a path through the middle of the sports complex. You realise she must be heading to the trees beyond.

  Over to your right, you see the officials’ tent. Perhaps you should go and tell them about the plan to take over the world?

  If you think it’s best to let the officials know, go here.

  But if you’ d rather chase the basketball players, go here.

  You chicken out. You let the ball hit the ground.

  As expected, Matty dashes ahead of you and makes off with the ball. He kicks it through the goal just as the match ends. His team wins, three–nil.

  Your teammates shun you as they walk off the pitch. The other team run off, singing ‘We Are the Champions’, their arms in the air … all except for Matty.

  ‘You should have tried for another volley,’ he says. ‘I reckon you might have done it.’

  You’re not convinced.

  ‘Come on,’ he says, getting the ball. ‘Let’s practise. I’ll teach you how to volley so that next time you’ll be the star player.’

  He kicks the ball to you.

  You smile and kick it back. You’re lucky to have a best friend like Matty.

  There are only seconds left in the match. The other team are two goals ahead. What have you got to lose?

  You charge at the ball and, keeping your eyes glued to the black and white sphere, you launch into the air. It’s all over in a couple of seconds, but in your mind it happens in slow motion.

  You kick out with your right leg. You watch as your foot connects with the ball. You feel the impact run all the way up your leg. You stare as the ball shoots through the air, heading towards the goal.

  Your heart thumps. Your mouth goes dry.

  You twist around, trying to keep it in sight as you crash to the ground.

  GOAL!

  A cheer goes up from your teammates.

  As you struggle to your feet, Matty is patting you on the back, shouting ‘AWESOME KICK!’

  Sometimes, it pays to take a chance.

  Even though your team loses two to one, you’re still hero of the match, carried off the pitch on your teammates’ shoulders.

  It’s tails and your team is fielding.

  Now it’s time to find out what this genius boy has to offer.

  ‘This!’ The kid holds out his bat. ‘It’s an electronically enhanced batting device, which I can control with my watch.’ He holds up his arm to show you the gadget on his wrist.

  But you want to know what he can offer in terms of fielding.

  ‘Oh.’ He hangs his head. ‘Not much, really.’

  Well, it’s not like you were counting on the boy genius anyway. You position your fielders and decide to open the bowling yourself. You’re a middle pacer and your accuracy is pretty good.

  The first few overs go well. Although the opposing team has scored 46 runs, you have managed to bowl out six of them.

  Then, to your surprise, the girl claiming to have superpowers comes in to bat. You’re certain you’ll bowl her out, but she hits it for six.

  You decide to send in a fast bowler.

  But she hits it for six, again … over the boundary, the whole sports complex and even the road! The coach has to get a new ball.

  The girl continues to score six after six.

  At the end of the next over, you call your players together.

  ‘Looks like she really does have superpowers,’ says the boy genius. ‘Who would have thought?’

  But what are you going to do about it?

  ‘If we can get her to use my bat,’ says the boy, ‘I can make sure she misses.’

  ‘Isn’t that cheating?’ asks one of the other players.

  ‘What, and having superpowers isn’t?’ says the boy genius. ‘By the way, in case anyone is wondering, my name is Wesley.’

  ‘All you’ve got to do is distract her with a superhero task,’ suggests another player. ‘Something like a natural disaster. Then she’ll go save the world instead of playing.’

  But how would you do that?

  If you decide to swap her bat, go here.

  If you want to try for a natural disaster, go here.

  You nod your agreement.

  ‘Great,’ says the boy, letting go of your shirt. ‘My name’s Tod. Follow me.’

  You follow him towards a group of competitors. He points. You shrug.

  ‘Look at that guy sitting on the bench by himself,’ he says.

  You shrug again.

  Tod sighs. ‘He’s a robot.’

  He looks like an ordinary kid to you.

  ‘Everyone else is hanging out together,’ insists Tod. ‘He’s the only one on his own. And look at his perfect blond hair. He’s gotta be a robot.’ He pushes you forward. ‘Go distract him. I’m gonna crawl under the bench and tie his shoelaces together. When he gets up, he’ll fall over. And hopefully his face will crack open and reveal his robotic innards.’

  It sounds like a pretty harebrained plan. And you still think the boy looks like an ordinary kid. But what harm could tying someone’s shoelaces together do?

  You go over to the kid and sit down next to him. You introduce yourself and ask him which events he plans to enter. He seems really nice … and very ordinary.

  It’s not long before the coach emerges from his tent and announces that pole vaulting has been cancelled and that you’ll move on to the next event – long jump.

  The kid leaps up, trips and falls flat on his face. He yelps and rolls over, blood spilling from his nose.

  He’s certainly no robot.

  You help him up as the coach fetches an icepack.

  ‘Psst!’ It’s Tod again, whispering in your ear. ‘Just a slight miscalculation. We’ll get the next one.’

  You’ve had enough. You grab Tod and haul him over to the coach, explaining what happened. The coach thanks you and takes Tod to his tent. You think it’s a bit strange that Tod never comes out again … but you’re just glad to be rid of him and his crazy ideas.

  You enjoy t
he rest of the day in the various track and field events, winning a couple of them.

  You decide that this guy’s too weird. You’re not going to help him.

  ‘Fine,’ he says, releasing you. ‘But when the robots take over, it’ll be all your fault.’

  You go to join the rest of the competitors, but watch him out of the corner of your eye. He makes his way to the bench, ducks down and crawls under, towards the ankles of a boy sitting at the far end. He tries to tie the boy’s shoelaces together, but the boy notices and jumps up, losing a shoe and yelling for the coach.

  The coach comes running up. ‘What’s going on?’ he demands.

  ‘This weirdo was doing something to my shoes,’ complains the boy, pointing to the saboteur still lying underneath the bench, clutching a shoe.

  You decide it’s time to step in and tell the coach about what happened with the pole.

  ‘That’s it,’ says the coach, grabbing the saboteur’s arms as he gets to his feet. ‘You’re coming with me.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not,’ yells the saboteur. He swings the shoe in a wide arc and hits the coach in the head.

  Your mouth drops open as the coach’s face falls off … revealing wires and circuits.

  He’s a robot!

  ‘Blast!’ says the robot. ‘Our presence has been revealed. Time for Plan B. Rise up, my children!’

  About one in four kids suddenly turns to face the coach. In unison they reach up and remove their faces.

  And the robot revolution begins!

  You race to the officials’ tent and burst through the canvas flap, blurting out what you’ve discovered.

  Ten men gathered around a large table look up at you. All are dressed identically in sports shorts and T-shirts with the words SUPER SPORTS SPECTACULAR emblazoned across them. They are all tall. They are all bald. And they all look annoyed at being interrupted. On the table is a map of the sports complex and piles of papers and notes.