At 90, Marguerite Haverfield is a champion to beat on the course of grass and clover, mallet in hand.
Don’t let the pink straw hat or her bent posture fool you: Haverfield is a force along with her two teammates — Vicki Staples and Kathleen Govett — on Jeepers Creepers, the 2015 champions of Senior Summer Croquet League, representing the Hillyard Senior Center.
“I play and practice with my (12-year-old) great-grandson,” Haverfield said while lining up the mallet on the black ball. She then took a breath and whack. The mallet sent the ball into the side of the metal wicket, instead of through it.
Haverfield shook her head in disgust. Her teammates looked at the reporter distracting her from the game.
“I don’t play very nice,” Govett said later after Jeepers Creepers lost to the Bumble Bees. “I like to win.”
Unlike in many sports, age has its advantage in croquet, which was born in Britain in the mid-19th century, according to the United States Croquet Association website. Some histories contend that “croquet-like” games were popular in England as early as 1611.
“The nice thing about being old is we have years of experience,” Govett said with a big laugh. “If we don’t know, we make it up.”
Her strategy somewhat rang true on the international croquet stage this year when Stephen Mulliner, of England, won the 2016 world championships in Florida, organized by the World Croquet Federation. At 62, he’s the oldest champion in the event’s history.
In Spokane on Tuesday mornings during the summer, 12 teams of three players each face off on the grass at Franklin Park near NorthTown Mall. There is strategy, rules and a lot of serious looks. But there also is a lot of joking, socializing and stories.
“They hound me every year about when we start,” said Hillyard Senior Center Director Jerry Unruh, who doesn’t play because he’s too busy organizing the schedule, setting up the course and refereeing disputes. Currently, several Spokane-area senior centers are represented by teams.
The teams — with names such as Wicket Angels, Mallet Heads and the Croquets — compete for the traveling trophy named in honor of former Corbin Senior Center player Joyce Pharness who died in 2004 of cancer.
Unruh said most people, especially the older generations, have played some type of backyard croquet and have fond memories of the game — or at least trying to hit their opponent’s ball out of the field as hard as possible.
That’s not quite how this league plays. Instead, they use strategy and sportsmanship. Hitting other people’s balls — often your own teammate’s — is known as a “croquet shot” and is how players get extra shots. Those extra shots help them get through the course faster.
The object of the game is for each team of three to get through the course of six wickets or metal hoops — zig-zagged across the grass — and back again before the members of the other team. There are many variations of croquet.
Haverfield, who retired from the Union Pacific Railroad after 30 years and is on countless boards and committees, has played since the league formed 18 summers ago. The feisty redhead also has tap danced with the Hillyard Belles troupe for at least as long.
“We won the trophy last year,” Haverfield said bluntly. She’s helped win the trophy numerous times and plans to keep whacking the ball with a mallet as long as possible.
Bonnie Stewart started playing last year to meet people. She ended up substituting on the team that placed second in the tournament.
She said she picked up the game quickly.
“The game itself is a simple game,” Stewart’s teammate Pat Moller said. “Obviously it requires skills but certainly senior citizens can all be good at it. Maggie (Haverfield) is a perfect example. Just about anybody can have a good day at croquet.”
As Haverfield lined up another shot, teammate Staples — who recently moved and drives two and a half hours from Princeton, Idaho, to play each week — coached Haverfield to spit on her palms to improve her grip. Usually Haverfield wears gloves but forgot them this day.
Haverfield licks both hands and rubs them together. She tightly griped the mallet and swung. Crack. The ball sped through a thick clump of clover and in line with the next wicket.
“Yeah,” Staples cheered. “See, the spit is it.”
About the Author
