Never Let a Unicorn Be the Goalie
8 pages · 5 min · ages 5+
Everybody at Rumble Ridge knew the rule: never let a unicorn be the goalie. But on Saturday, the Rumblers had the biggest match of the year against the Mudhoppers, and their goalie, Big Tortoise, had a terrible cold. He sat on the bench with a red nose, a scarf and a very large hanky. There was only one player left. She had a rainbow mane, mud on her hooves and a golden horn. “Oh no,” said Rocco, the captain. “Oh YES,” said Dazzle.
The trouble was, when Dazzle got excited, her horn went PLING. And when her horn went PLING, things changed into other things. Nobody knew what they would change into. Not even Dazzle. At practice, Rocco kicked the ball at her, and Dazzle got excited, and PLING! The ball turned into a snail. It landed in her hooves, looked around, and went to sleep. Everybody laughed, even Rocco. Especially Rocco. Dazzle's ears went red. “That was an accident,” she said.
The match began. The meerkat grabbed his microphone. “And they're off!” The Mudhoppers were fast. The Mudhoppers were muddy. The Mudhoppers had never lost a match. In one minute, the biggest warthog was running straight at Dazzle's goal with the ball. He kicked. The ball flew. Dazzle got excited. PLING! The ball turned into a soap bubble. It floated gently past her nose and into the net. Pop. “GOOOAL!” shouted the meerkat.
“Don't get excited!” shouted Rocco. Dazzle tried to feel calm. She thought about grass. She thought about puddles. She thought about nothing at all. The ball came again. It was a very exciting ball. PLING! It turned into a butterfly. It fluttered round her head three times and flew into the net. “GOAL!” The ball came again. PLING! A balloon. It floated right over her head. “GOAL!” It was three–nil to the Mudhoppers, and the warthogs were dancing in the mud.
At half-time, Rocco sat down next to her on the bench. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Everybody at Rumble Ridge knew the rule. Dazzle looked at her hooves. She thought about the bubble, and the butterfly, and the balloon. They all floated. They all flew. They all went straight in. Then she thought about the snail at practice, the one everybody had laughed at. The snail hadn't gone anywhere at all. The snail had gone to sleep. Dazzle's ears went up.
The second half began. The biggest warthog got the ball. He ran. He ran all the way from the other end of the pitch, snorting, and Dazzle watched him come. Closer. Closer. Closer. He pulled back his foot. And this time, Dazzle didn't wait to get excited by accident. She got excited on purpose. “PLING!” said Dazzle, and she pointed her horn right at the ball and thought very hard about snails.
The ball turned into a snail. It landed on the grass, far in front of the goal line. The warthog stared at it. The snail looked at the goal line. It set off. Very, very, very slowly. Meanwhile, the Rumblers ran up the pitch. Rocco scored one. The goat scored two. Rocco scored three with his horn. And all the time, the snail was still crawling towards Dazzle's goal, one tiny wiggle at a time, and every warthog on the pitch was too polite to kick a snail.
The whistle blew. Three–three! The Rumblers had never drawn with the Mudhoppers before. Everybody cheered for Dazzle. Rocco scuffed his big foot in the dust. “That snail thing,” he mumbled. “Could you teach me that?” Everybody went home. The sun went down and the stars came out. And at exactly midnight, on the empty pitch, the snail wiggled over the goal line and fell asleep in the net. “Goal,” whispered the meerkat, who had stayed up all night just to say it.