'Jolly Hockey Sticks' by Mary Marland
The ball thumped into the net with a puzzled twang. I made no attempt to stop it. Truth to tell I didn’t see it coming – I wasn’t expecting it. The ball had never before ventured down our end of the pitch never mind threatened a goal, so why should I?
“Though it may have escaped your notice, Margaret,” Miss Shields was sarcastic; her sharp nose quivered with suppressed indignation, “the reason you are in goal is to stop the ball from entering the net. That is why you were given the jolly old hockey stick in the first place. You were meant to hit the jolly old ball with it!”
The nearby gaggle of girls giggled loudly, but I bit on the bullet and spoke up with dignity:
“Miss Shields,” I said, “the ball and I are unacquainted. We have never been introduced. We are strangers. If you ask the ball itself . . . and I think you should . . . you will find that it is here by mistake. It has not been invited and if you inform it so – I think you will find that it leaves us immediately.
The girls stopped giggling and gaped, open mouthed. Miss Shields swooned to the ground. Mary stared at me, aghast. The ball rolled past me with a grateful wink and I winked back. I mean, I might be just a jolly old hockey stick – but I never hit balls I’ve only just met!