Diary of a Track and Field Titan Read online

  This edition published in 2014

  First published in Singapore in 2013 by Sunbear Publishing

  Copyright © Text, Shamini Flint 2013

  Copyright © Illustrations, Sally Heinrich 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available

  from the National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 74331 729 7

  eISBN 978 1 74343 550 2

  Text design by Sally Heinrich

  Series cover concept by Jaime Harrison

  Set in 12/14 pt Comic Sans

  Contents

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MY TRACK AND FIELD DIARY

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 1

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 2

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 3

  THE END GAME

  800 METRES

  JAVELIN

  SHOT PUT

  HURDLES

  THE RELAY

  About the Author

  Shamini Flint lives in Singapore with her husband and two children. She is an ex-lawyer, ex-lecturer, stay-at-home mum and writer. She loves track and field!

  www.shaminiflint.com

  MY TRACK AND FIELD DIARY

  Track and field … Dad’s latest crazy idea from Planet Crazy.

  How’s that worked so far, Dad?

  I’ve tried soccer …

  cricket…

  rugby …

  and taekwondo.

  I have the headlines and the bruises to prove how great I was (NOT!).

  You see, Dad is convinced that I’d be really good at sport if only we could find the right one …

  But let me be very clear about a few things. My name is Marcus Atkinson. I am nine years old. I am only good at maths and computer games. NOT SPORT!!!

  Poor Dad … There just isn’t a sport where you get to sit on the sofa and use your thumbs … And that’s the only one I’d be good at.

  Dad’s written a book called Pull Yourself Up by Your Own Bootstraps. He’s always quoting from it.

  None of the stuff in his book would ever work in real life …

  Doing the same thing over and over again while hoping for a different result? The definition of crazy.

  But Dad thinks I’m the one who’s nuts? Right, Dad.

  I suppose ‘track’ sounds fun. Spot could help me.

  We could track wild beasts …

  or bad guys …

  or Gemma …

  Gemma loves to read my secret diaries and leave notes for me. Why? Doesn’t she have anything better to do?

  Well, I’m used to running. Usually, I’m running away …

  from JT …

  (although he’s my friend now so he only chases me once in a while when he needs practice)

  from Hulk …

  from Gemma …

  I’m not sure about fielding though – I tried that in cricket. It didn’t go so well …

  I can throw stuff!!

  Like the rubbish …

  or a paper aeroplane …

  or a tantrum …

  Maybe track and field won’t be so bad? Maybe I won’t get injured?? Maybe this will be fun!!!

  Gemma’s right. This will be a disaster just like the other times …

  I know what comes next ...

  It’s really easy to read Dad’s mind.

  And he always sounds like his book.

  How about ‘Without dreams, we are sound asleep’?

  How about ‘Grab an ice cream with one hand’?

  How about I walk the dog instead?

  I should write a book. I think it would be more popular than Dad’s.

  I wouldn’t call it Pull Yourself Up by Your Own Bootstraps.

  I’d call it Pull the Covers Over Yourself and Stay in Bed.

  And then I’d follow my own advice.

  The next morning …

  Dad doesn’t really understand the concept of good news.

  Let me guess … Spot ate my homework?

  I failed a maths exam?

  There’s a tiger sleeping in my bed?

  What would he consider bad news?

  Parents always make things up about their kids.

  Still, it isn’t terrible news.

  Maybe Spencer will be okay.

  Why doesn’t he just say what he means then????

  That’s right, we just haven’t found me the right sport. But the truth is we’d be more likely to find … the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow …

  buried treasure …

  or the Loch Ness monster …

  than a sport that I’m good at!!!!

  Still, if Spencer’s rubbish at sport too, he’ll be good company for me!

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 1

  I’d be fine if my name was Bolt or Swift or Dash or Speedy. But what’s an Atkinson to do?

  You’ve got to be kidding! A longer distance? I lost a short race so the solution is to run further??

  What do you think?

  A longer distance just meant that I lost by more …

  Spencer won again. By miles.

  If I could run, I would run far, far away …

  That evening I just wanted to be left alone to lick my wounds.

  Seriously? What’s with this guy?

  I don’t think he’s human …

  My guess is that he’s an alien and if we rip off that perfect mask there’ll be a lizard underneath!

  Or maybe a robot from a big robot factory …

  or some sort of scientific experiment gone wrong …

  But there is no way Mr Perfect is HUMAN!!!!

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 2

  Spencer did it perfectly.

  If I could jump, I would leap across the sea to a desert island …

  and live there forever on my own!!!

  Thanks, Dad …

  Is he serious?

  We’re supposed to jump over these?

  This is ridiculous.

  Maybe if I were a horse …

  or a kangaroo …

  or a gazelle …

  He asked for it …

  Could things get any worse?

  The whole family thinks Spencer is the bee’s knees!

  The cat’s pyjamas!

  Ok, the dog’s pyjamas!

  Heh! Heh! This is my chance to show Spencer who’s the boss …

  ARRRGGHHH!!!

  TRACK AND FIELD LESSON NO. 3

  Is he for real?

  This thing is as heavy as a car!

  It’s heavier than a hippo!

  It’s … it’s heavier than a really, really heavy thing!!

  Yup! I was almost a human pincushion!

  Why does this always happen to me?

  Coach said to pass the baton carefully ...

  I did my best.

  I guess
my best wasn’t good enough.

  Big surprise (NOT!).

  What am I going to do about Spencer?

  This guy has taken over my family.

  It’s like I was never born!!! It’s like I’m invisible!!!

  It’s like he’s my Dad’s favourite son!!!

  I talked it over with my friends …

  I didn’t tell JT that I was afraid Mr Minotaur might beat him in a fight.

  Tank’s never had a good idea in his life – too many rugby tackles.

  He told us his plan. We jumped and cheered! It was brilliant!!!

  Or at least it seemed brilliant at the time.

  I should have known better.

  But I’m not a fortune teller …

  I don’t have a crystal ball

  I don’t have a time travel machine …

  So how was I supposed to know how badly things would turn out?

  Coach wanted a re-match with Trainer Joe. He was still convinced that Spencer could win it for him …

  Trainer Joe looked confident. Who could blame him after our disaster during the 400 metre relay?

  But Coach was confident too.

  If we lost, Coach agreed to stand on his head and say that Trainer Joe was the ‘BEST COACH IN THE WORLD’ a hundred times … outside the supermarket on a Saturday afternoon when it was really busy.

  For once, Dad didn’t try to persuade Coach to let me take part. He didn’t offer to buy new kit for the team just so I got picked. He didn’t even think of me.

  He had Spencer …

  Well, I had my friends … and Tank’s brilliant idea.

  The first event was the 100 metres.

  Everyone was running as hard as they could … except Spencer.

  He was going so slow a tortoise would have beaten him! Or a snail … or Harriet.

  Their boy won. Spencer was last!!!

  Lizzie grinned at me.

  Weights in his shoes?! No wonder he couldn’t run.

  Coach didn’t look happy. Dad didn’t look happy. Our team didn’t look happy. I had to pretend that I was miserable too … Heh! Heh! Heh!

  It was the high jump next. I was allowed to take part since only the top jump from each team counted.

  I knocked the bar over with my first attempt. No surprise. Do I look like I have wings?

  Their guy made a good jump.

  It was all up to Spencer.

  He leapt high in the air, arched his back and sailed over the bar!

  But then the bar came tumbling down!

  The Little Master gave me a thumbs up.

  We’d lost two events.

  Just for a moment, I felt guilty.

  And then I remembered how Spencer had stolen my family from me … and beaten me at computer games.

  He had it coming … so there.

  Coach was trying not to panic.

  He was wrong.

  You see, Tank had brought superglue.

  First, it was the long jump.

  Tank put superglue on the jumping off board.

  Next, it was the pole vault.

  Tank put glue on the end of the pole.

  Then, it was the discus.

  Tank had put glue on the discus.

  Five events. Five defeats.

  Spencer was very quiet in the car on the way home.

  Dad was very quiet in the car on the way home.

  Spot was very quiet in the car on the way home.

  My friends came to visit. There was a lot of cheering and high fives.

  I felt guilty again. Spencer was nowhere to be seen.

  I helped Mum.

  No way I was waiting for Spencer to do it!

  I helped Gemma.

  No way I was waiting for Spencer to do it.

  Next, I played with Harriet and Spot.

  There was no way I was waiting for Spencer to do it!

  Geez. Even when I’m behaving myself, he gets the credit …

  What’s the matter with these people?

  Are they trying to make me feel guilty??

  It’s not like he found a snake in his schoolbag …

  or discovered that his real father was a disco dancer …

  or had his hands glued to the pole for the pole vault.

  Oh, all right. That last thing did happen.

  Live away from home? I couldn’t do it!

  Live without Mum and Dad?

  Without Harriet?

  Without Spot?

  Even you, Gemma!

  Poor Spencer …

  I went to look for Spencer.

  I hunted everywhere … I checked all the places I might go if I had lost five track and field events in a row and had to go to boarding school.

  In the cupboards …

  in the tree house …

  in the attic …

  But he was nowhere to be found.

  It was time to call in reinforcements!

  Spot sniffed around until he’d picked up the trail.

  I followed him as he dashed from place to place.

  No sign of Spencer …

  We followed the trail past the rubbish bins …

  No sign of him!

  I was really worried.

  What if Spencer had run away from home?

  What if he’d decided to become a hermit on a mountain top?

  What if he’d decided to live in the wild?

  It was all my fault!!!

  OK, none of that is in Dad’s book … but it should be!!

  I won’t forget …

  All right!

  Not in a million years!!!

  But where was Spencer???

  Suddenly, I heard a noise.

  It sounded like Gemma when she has hay fever …

  It sounded like Spot when he’s shut outside by mistake …

  It sounded like me when Dad finds me a new sport …

  I quietly turned the corner. Spencer was sitting in a corner of the tool shed.

  He was crying.

  I realised that THIS was my worst day EVER.

  Not when Dad made me play soccer or cricket or rugby or taekwondo.

  Today.

  Luckily, Spot knew what to do …

  PHEW!!! Spencer agreed to carry on!

  THE END GAME

  Five more events to level the competition and save Coach from public humiliation …

  Five more events to make Spencer feel like a winner again …

  Five more events for me to put things right.

  Dad and Coach weren’t exactly on the same page …

  800 METRES

  The first event was the 800 metres.

  The starter gun went off.

  Spencer was slower than I was!!!

  I spotted Lizzie.

  She was grinning and waving …

  I forgot to tell her that the joke was off!

  LIZZIE HAD PUT WEIGHTS IN SPENCER’S SHOES AGAIN!

  The others were getting further and further ahead … Coach was red.

  Dad had covered his eyes.

  Spot was facing the other way.

  I had a bright idea!!

  Spencer looked at me as if I was bonkers.

  Well, that worked.

  Spencer kicked off his shoes and started running. He was almost half a lap behind …

  Spencer won!!!

  I was last. I didn’t mind.

  JAVELIN

  I had no idea what my friends had done to Spencer’s javelin. Superglue most likely.

  There was only one thing to do.

  When no one was looking, I swapped his javelin for mine.

  It was my turn first.

  I expected the javelin to be stuck to my hand …

  BUT IT WASN’T!!

  Maybe the others had realised that the joke was over …

  Nope! They’d sawn the javelin in half!

  The other team was good. Their javelins kept going further and further.

  But I needn’t have worried. It was as if Spencer’s javelin was powered by ro
ckets …