Cauliflower Ears Read online

  ‘The try will help keep my dad awake and on his toes,’ said Grubber, sounding really pleased.

  ‘You did good to get him to stay and watch for a change,’ said Sprigs.

  Grubber’s dad was a nurse at the hospital. He

  worked in Accident and Emergency. Grubber’s dad didn’t like rugby much, because he thought Grubber was going to get injured one day, but Grubber loved the game so much that his dad just had to let him play.

  ‘I told him this morning that I’d never talk to him again if he missed seeing us win the Junior Home World Cup,’ Grubber said.

  ‘You didn’t mean it, did you?’ I said.

  Grubber didn’t answer me.

  I was happy that Sprigs had converted Grubber’s try. Me, I’m not a kicker.

  And I was really, really stoked that Grubber had scored that try.

  But I couldn’t help wishing that it’d been me. I’m a winger, you see. That’s why my nickname is Wings. When I’m running I feel as if I’ve sprouted two massive feathery things that fly me all over the field.

  I desperately wanted a chance to use my wings before the final whistle blew.

  Chapter 9

  Fouled

  The Reds scored another try in the first half but missed the conversion, so the half time score was twelve to seven. We were feeling pretty down, even though Mr Marlow was pleased enough with us.

  ‘You’ve had a lot of ball possession,’ he said. ‘You’re doing good. With the wind behind you, you’ll play even better.’

  We’d have to play lots better if we were going to win.

  The Reds kicked off the second half. Spike’s best friend, Taggart, the Red’s loosehead prop, got to the ball first. He kicked it forward before Chip had a chance to tackle him. Sprigs managed to grab hold of the ball - he’d scrubbed his hands during the half-time break - and now it was our turn to run with it.

  Sprigs had a good head start. It looked as if Mr Marlow was right. We might be the first to score points in this half.

  Then the Reds bunched up and swooped down on

  Sprigs from all sides. Their heavy forward pack was one of the most dangerous in the Junior Home World Cup. If Sprigs had had eyes in the back of his head, man, he’d have been dead scared right then. Grubber might have wet himself if he’d been the one holding the ball!

  Taggart was angry that his kick hadn’t worked out the way he’d planned it. It was obvious that he was after Sprigs, big time.

  I was the closest Green to Sprigs.

  ‘To me!’ I yelled.

  Sprigs already had it sussed. He passed me the ball from mid-field. It was the perfect pass, great height, angled back just enough, and my hands reached out to grab it, sweet as, and I ran with it.

  Then the Ref blew his whistle and the ball went dead.

  Chapter 10

  Injury

  ‘It was a fair throw!’ I said, wondering what had happened.

  The Ref nodded. ‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘But a foul tackle.’

  At first I didn’t know what he meant, so I looked to where he was pointing. Poor Sprigs lay on the ground, one leg twisted under him.

  Taggart stood beside him, grinning, but sly and dangerous looking as well.

  ‘Legal tackle,’ he said.

  The Ref shook his head. ‘The ball had left Sprigs’ hands,’ he said.

  ‘Hadn’t,’ said Taggart.

  ‘Had too,’ hissed Sprigs from below.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked him.

  ‘Just twisted my ankle I reckon,’ said Sprigs.

  The medics helped Sprigs off the field.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Sprigs said. ‘Good thing it’s not you

  being carted off,’ he told Grubber. ‘Your old man

  would’ve had a fit.’

  Grubber looked anxiously towards the sidelines. ‘What’re we going to do now? We’re a man down.’

  Sprigs glared at Taggart. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.

  ‘Not likely,’ said Taggart.

  Taggart was still grinning, but not for long.

  ‘Sin bin,’ the Ref said to him.

  ‘Wha . . .’

  ‘Don’t argue. I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘Not fair,’ said Taggart.

  But, even so, he couldn’t stop smirking. He knew what he’d done. He’d taken out our best kicker.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Grubber suddenly.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Look,’ said Grubber.

  I looked. We all did. Striding towards us was Grubber’s dad.

  ‘He’s going to tell me to get off the field,’ said Grubber. ‘I just know he is.’

  Chapter 11

  Play on

  It took Grubber’s dad only a few seconds to reach us, but it seemed like minutes, hours even.

  ‘I saw what happened,’ he said.

  ‘It’s been dealt with,’ said the Ref. ‘Sprigs is going to be okay.’

  Grubber’s dad shook his head. ‘That was just luck,’ he said. ‘It could have been much worse. I don’t want my boy to get hurt.’

  ‘Dad . . .’ said Grubber.

  ‘I’ve seen too many rugby injuries in my line of work,’ said Grubber’s dad. He looked at Grubber. ‘Why don’t you call it quits?’

  It was hard to tell if Grubber was looking sick with shame, or sick with fear that his dad would actually force him out of the match. On the other side of the field the Reds were watching, wondering what was going on. They edged in closer to find out.

  Mr Marlow arrived on the scene.

  ‘You’re holding up the game,’ said the Ref to Grubber’s dad.

  ‘I hope you’ll let Grubber stay on,’ said Mr Marlow, calm as always. ‘We’re already a man down now.’

  ‘And how many more will get carted off before the game finishes?’ asked Grubber’s dad. ‘With rough players like them.’ He looked over at the Reds, who were only a few metres away from us now.

  Before Mr Marlow could reply, Grubber spoke up.

  ‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘I love rugby and I’m going to finish this game.’

  ‘Please Mr Foley,’ I added. ‘We can’t do without Grubber. Look at the way he got that first try for us. This game is way too important for us.’

  Grubber’s dad looked at me, at Mr Marlow, at the Ref, at the rest of the Green team.

  ‘It was a good try,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘I have to admit that. Okay, I won’t interfere. Just take care, and play fair.’

  He said that last bit loudly enough for the Reds to hear, before he walked back to the sideline. We all breathed great sighs of relief.

  ‘Penalty shot,’ said the Ref.

  Chapter 12

  Loser

  We, the Greens, looked at each other. We’d almost forgotten the foul tackle. Who was going to take the penalty? Sprigs was our star goal kicker but he’d been carted off the field.

  ‘You give it a go Wings,’ said Chip.

  ‘Me!’ I cried. ‘Why me?’

  ‘We all know that none of us are a patch on Sprigs,’ said Chip, ‘but at least you’re fast and accurate, and good with your feet. That’s what Mr Marlow always says.’

  ‘That’s when I’m running! I’m a winger.’

  ‘Well, don’t start sounding like a whinger,’ said Chip impatiently. ‘Greens can be anything they want to be, that’s a key part of our game plan, remember?’

  I remembered. I also remembered Dad praising me this morning for always giving my best. One hundred precent plus,’ he’d said.

  ‘Just give it your best shot,’ said Chip, as if he’d

  read my mind.

  Everyone looked at me. Hopeful. Expectant. They didn’t want me to let them down.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Good one,’ said Chip, and they all punched me on the arm for luck. Ouch!

  There was another commotion from the sideline.

  ‘What now?’ said the Ref.

  A hand waving, holding som
ething that looked like a piece of string. It was Sprigs.

  ‘What’s that boy want?’ said the Ref.

  ‘Just get on with the game,’ said Spike.

  ‘Go check it out,’ the Ref told Chip.

  Chip ran over to the bench and came back a few seconds later with a piece of one of Sprigs’ shoelaces in his hands.

  ‘He had it stuffed inside his sock,’ said Chip, shaking his head.

  ‘It must be Sprig’s lucky lace, the one that broke,’ said Grubber.

  ‘What am I supposed to do with it?’ I asked.

  ‘Stuff it into your sock,’ said Chips. ‘Sprigs wants you to have it, for luck he said.’

  ‘Luck,’ I thought to myself. ‘I’ll need more than

  that. I’ll need a miracle.’ But I took the grubby lace and put it inside my sock.

  ‘Thanks,’ I called out to Sprigs.

  ‘What a bunch of losers,’ I heard Spike mutter.

  Chapter 13

  Swansong?

  I put the kicking tee into place and set up the ball. I looked from the ball to the goal posts and back to the ball. It seemed an easy shot. At least for Sprigs it might have been an easy shot. But for me it was another story altogether.

  Boy, was I nervous. I was so nervous, I was sweating. I heard Mr Marlow’s voice in my head. ‘Attitude’s everything. If you think you can do it, you can. Steady. Focus. Imagine the ball flying high. Imagine putting the ball right where you want it to be.’

  I tried my best to follow Mr Marlow’s advice but my kicking foot felt stiff and tight in my boot.

  Even if I got this one, I realised, we’d still be behind by two points.

  I started my run.

  I stopped.

  Deep breath.

  I started again.

  I stopped.

  Another deep breath.

  While the Greens stood silent and anxious around me, the Reds whistled and booed and laughed until the Ref had to blow his whistle. ‘Keep quiet,’ he said.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I had to do it.

  One last run up.

  Kick, and the ball flies.

  It goes high. The Greens almost stop breathing and so do I. And the ball goes just wide of the post!

  So close. But being so close means nothing. I missed it. I missed what would have been an easy shot for old Sprigs. I can’t believe it, but I have to. I missed.

  On the sideline the Red Brigade cheers. The Greenies, on the other hand, look as if they’re going to cry into their scarves.

  Suddenly I get the very bad, very deep-sinking feeling that I’ve lost the Greens the Grand Final, and that maybe Spike was half right. The Greens aren’t the losers, I am.

  What a swansong. What a way to go out!

  Chapter 14

  Last try

  The Reds got another try. The score leapt from twelve-seven to seventeen-seven. Luckily for us they missed the conversion. The margin was bad enough as it was, we couldn’t afford for it to go any higher.

  Then we managed to get a second try: Grubber managed to get another one. I saw him sneak a look over to where his dad was standing and I’m pretty sure I saw his dad clapping and cheering along with the other Green supporters.

  Seventeen - twelve.

  But the try was a corner and when Chips gave me the nod I didn’t think anyone would expect me to convert the ball from that hard angle. So no one, not even I, was surprised when I didn’t, even though I’d been hoping like mad that I’d be able to make up for my earlier disaster.

  There were only fifteen minutes left to play. The Reds, who we thought had been rough and tough

  enough, got even rougher and tougher. We were run

  down each time we made a break with the ball. They tackled from the side, from behind, from out in front. Grubber’s dad would be having kittens just watching. And we stayed a man down. Poor Sprigs wasn’t able to return to the field. All we could do was hunker down in defence and try our hardest to stop the Reds sprinting over the try line.

  Then, unbelievably, the Ref awarded us a second penalty. Taggart, back from the sin bin, was called offside.

  This time Chip took the kick himself. I’d had my two chances. This time the ball went where it was supposed to, between the posts.

  ‘That was a really easy shot,’ Sprigs whispered to me, hoping to make me feel better. It did, but not much.

  Seventeen – fifteen.

  Only five minutes left to go and it didn’t look as if we’d have another chance to score before the whistle blew. Then it really hit me. If it hadn’t been for me missing the earlier penalty, we’d have been ahead.

  I couldn’t help it. My mind drifted. Maybe they’re

  all glad I’m leaving, I started to tell myself. Maybe

  they’ve just been waiting for the day when I played my last game with the Greens. Maybe because I’m . . .

  ‘Wings,’ yells Chips. ‘Wake up!’

  What’s happening?

  I suddenly snap awake. The Greens have possession!

  The ball’s being unloaded as we sprint down the field, the Reds on our tails.

  Chip passes to Danny.

  Danny passes to Grubber.

  Grubber passes to me.

  It’s a perfect break, a class formation. We sweep across the field like a bird’s wing.

  ‘Go for it Wings!’ Grubber yells.

  And I do. I’m the winger. I have wings so I can fly. I can reach the try line. I can beat the odds, make up for my earlier failures.

  But can I? Really?

  No, I can’t. There are too many players marking me.

  But I have to try. Give it better than my best. One hundred percent plus, and then some.

  So I swerve and swing, duck and dive, skim out of

  their way.

  Where’s everyone else?

  I’ve ended up in mid-field, too fast for the other Greens to be in support.

  Now the goalposts are right in front of me, so close, but Taggart is looming, Spike’s on my heels. I’ll never make it to put the ball down.

  ‘Drop kick!’ I hear a yell.

  It’s Sprigs’ voice coming from the bench, screaming at me what to do.

  But I can’t kick. I’ve proved that twice already in this game. I’m a useless, no-hoper kicker.

  And I’m too close too the bar.

  And then I fall flat on my face as I’m tackled from behind.

  And I can’t bear to look up to see what I’ve done.

  Chapter 15

  Try

  What’s happened?

  The whistle’s happened, that’s what. The Ref has blown his whistle and it’s all over, the game’s finished. We’ve lost. I’ve lost.

  Grubber and Chip and Danny and all the others have crowded around me. Mr Marlow is suddenly there, too, helping me to my feet.

  ‘I’m sorry guys,’ I said, ‘I just couldn’t make it.’

  I didn’t even try blaming the tackle, or suggesting it was another one of the Red’s fouls. No, it was all down to me.

  ‘It was all down to you,’ Mr Marlow said.

  I hung my head in shame.

  ‘The chips were down and you did it,’ said Chip, using his favourite joke.

  Finally I looked up. I knew I’d have to face them sometime.

  Everyone was smiling. There were no frowns or

  scowls. Grubber was hopping up and down like he

  needed to go to the toilet, but this time it was a dance of joy.

  ‘Did what?’ I asked.

  ‘You got the ball over the line without letting go of it, even when you were brought down,’ says another voice. It’s Dad, and Mum’s there too. ‘You got a try right smack between the posts.’

  Grubber’s dad has come onto the field as well, and right now he doesn’t look like a man who’s been at work for the past nine hours and has spent most of the morning chewing his fingernails worrying about Grubber ending up in Accident and Emergency.

  Sprigs ha
s hobbled over with his mum, his ankle sore and bruised from that tackle.

  ‘Knew that lace would do the trick,’ he said.

  ‘You mean I did it?’ I said, still not believing it.

  ‘Course you did,’ said Chips. ‘You got five points for the Greens. We’ve won!’

  Chapter 16

  Three cheers

  It was over. The Greens had won the Junior Home World Cup. Our first Grand Final. Our first trophy. We danced. We hugged each other. Then we lined up to receive the Cup.

  We shook hands with Junior Home World Cup organisers. Chip held up the cup for everyone to admire and everyone, including some of the Reds, cheered. And we cheered them as well and shook their hands, even Spike and Taggart’s.

  ‘No hard feelings?’ I said to Spike.

  ‘Get real,’ said Spike. ‘If it hadn’t been for you . . .’

  ‘It’s not fair’ said Taggart, ‘letting girls play rugby. They completely stuff up the game.’

  I took no any notice of what Taggart said. Neither did anyone else. So what that I’m a girl? I can play as well as anyone and today I proved that, even though it nearly turned out to be a disaster of a swansong.

  There was a celebration afterwards at Mr Marlow’s place. Everyone came: the Green Team, parents, supporters, even Grubber’s dad although he soon dropped into a chair and feel asleep.

  I felt hugely happy, and hugely sad, both at the same time.

  ‘How’d you know we were going to win?’ Sprigs asked Mr Marlow, looking at all the food laid out on the table.

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Mr Marlow. ‘We’d have had a party regardless. You made it to the Grand Final after all.’

  ‘But what if we hadn’t made it to the final?’ Sprigs said.

  ‘We’d still have had a party,’ Mr Marlow said, ‘because the Greens are such a great team.’