The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [586]
“In past matches,” he said in a hushed tone, “the Whackers have been known to test a weak side with a standard ‘Bomperini’ opening tactic. A deflective feint towards midhoop left, but actually aiming for an undefended back-hoop right.”
The team whistled low.
“But we’ll be ready for them. I want them to know we’re playing an aggressive game. Instead of backfooting it, we’ll go straight into a surprise roquet maneuver. Smudger, you’re to lead with a sideways deflection to Biffo, who’ll pass to Thursday—”
“Wait,” put in Biffo. “Thursday is here making up the numbers. She hasn’t hit a ball in years!”
This was true. But Jambe had bigger plans.
“Exactly. I want them to think Thursday is a dark horse—that we planned this late addition. With a bit of luck, they’ll waste a good player marking her. Thursday, drive it towards their red ball, and Spike will intercept. It doesn’t matter if you miss—I want them to be confused by our tactics. And, Penelope—just frighten the other team.”
“Urg,” grunted the wingwoman.
“Okay, keep it tight, no more violence than is necessary, and keep an eye out for the Duchess. She’s not averse to a bit of ankle swiping.”
We all tapped our fists together and made a harump noise. I walked slowly to my place on the green, my heart beating with the pump of adrenaline.
“You okay?” It was Aubrey.
“Sure.”
“Good. Let’s play some croquet.”
38.
WCL SuperHoop-88
2:00 P.M., Saturday, July 22, 1988, Swindon Stadium, Wessex
Reading Whackers:
Tim O’Fathens, Captain
Molly “The Mark” Stern, Midfield
Tim “The Mouse” McCall, Forward Striker
Gretchen “Barker” Koss, Striker
Wallace “Back to Front” Acadia, DefenseAlessandra Lusardi, Roquet Taker
“Bonecrusher” McSneed, Forward Hoop
Freddie “Dribbler” Loehnis, Peg Defense
Duchess of Sheffield, Wingman
Legal Team: Wapcaplitt & Sfortz
Linesman: Bruce Giffords
Coach: Geoffrey Snurge
Swindon Mallets:
Aubrey Jambe, Captain
Alan “Biffo” Mandible, Midfield
“Snake” Spillikin, Forward Striker“Smudger” Blarney, Forward HoopPenelope Hrah, Midhoop Wingman
Thursday Next, Manager/Midfield
Legal Team: Runcorn & Twizzit
Sub: Coach: Alf Widdershaine
I took up my station at the twenty-yard line and looked around the green. The rhododendron bushes in the center occluded my vision of the back-hoop right; I glanced up at the scoreboard and clock. Two minutes to go. There were three other natural hazards that we were to play around on the green—the Tea Party, which even now was being stocked by volunteers, the garden roller, and the Italian Sunken Garden. Once the Tea Party volunteers were safe and the parson umpire was happy his curate linesmen were all in position, the Klaxon went off with a loud blare.
Many things happened at once. There were two almost simultaneous clacks as both teams whacked off, and I ran forward instinctively to intercept the pass from Biffo. Since the Whackers didn’t think I was of any use, I had been left unmarked, and Biffo’s pass came sailing towards me. I was flushed by the excitement and caught it in midair, smashing it towards the opponent’s ball for what looked like an aerial roquet. It didn’t work. I missed by about a foot. The opponent’s ball carried on to the forty-yard line where McCall blasted it through the back-hoop right—the classic Bomperini opener. I didn’t have time to think about it, as there was a shout of “Thursday!” from Aubrey, and I turned to make a swipe at the opposition’s ball. The Klaxon went, and everyone stopped playing. I had touched the opponent’s ball when south of the forty-yard line after it had been passed from the last person to have hit a red ball in the opposite direction—one of the more obvious offside transgressions.
“Sorry, guys,” I said as the Whackers lined up to take their penalty. O’Fathens took the