Bad Guy Eats The Magic Fruit Part 2 (Please Criticise)

Suraj, still standing in the middle of the field, was not quite sure what all the fuss was about. He noticed that there was much shouting going on in the stand. When he looked that way he saw that the headmaster was being carried away on a stretcher. Somehow, he did not connect that event with the way he had thrown the javelin.

Eventually, the sports programme was resumed and he then heard the announcement of the hammer throw event. That suited him. It meant that he did not have to leave the javelin site because the javelins and hammers were all launched from the same spot.
Again he was asked to sign a form. And then he was given his "hammer". It was, in fact, really just a chain with a very heavy ball at the end of it.

When Suraj's turn arrived, he held onto the hammer chain with both hands and began to do his turns. Unused to the flying mass of the ball, he began to stumble to the left and then to the right and rapidly lost his balance. As he fell with a thud, he let the hammer go and it careened off into the distance, knocking over a few painted drums here and there.

His second attempt at a throw was, at first glance, a superb effort. Connoisseurs of the sport later said that they had never seen a hammer thrown with such power. There was no doubt that Suraj, because of the magic fruit, had almost made history. Almost! There was one detail which took the shine off his glory. The hammer did not travel forward across the ground. No! Suraj had, inadvertently, achieved the most perfectly straight up and down throw ever witnessed.                     
When the hammer reached its zenith, it first hung motionlessly in the air for a split second before beginning to fall back to earth again, at ever increasing speed. An observant track official had spotted the falling weight and had immediately foreseen the impending disaster.

In a flash, he darted forward and then rather brusquely dived forward and knocked Suraj violently to one side.
It was done just in time. Because a second or two later, the hammer slammed into the ground where Suraj had been standing moments earlier. It landed with enough force to make a hole two hundred millimetres deep in the soil.                                                                                                     
Suraj had been surprised by the rough treatment when he was knocked down by the hammer throw official. However, before he could complain about it, the 4x110 metre race was being announced over the loudspeakers.
One of the runners had considerately come over to fetch Suraj. He had noticed, with some surprise, Suraj's name on the list. He walked with him to the spot where the third runner would hand the baton over to Suraj who would be the last runner. He demonstrated to Suraj how the hand over was usually done.
It would be Suraj's honour to run the final 110 metre stretch and be the one to, hopefully, break the ribbon and be declared the winner. Having shown Suraj exactly where to stand and wait, the helpful co-runner trotted back to his own waiting station.

Suraj's team was expected to win the relay race easily. The first three runners were some of the school's fastest athletes. The team fully expected to win even though Suraj's capabilities as a runner were not known and it was generally felt that not much could be expected of him.

While Suraj waited, he began to see strange flashing lights in front of his eyes. He was not sure why that was happening. Unfortunately, no one had explained to him that he now had only about five minutes left before he would, unfortunately, lose all of his new found powers.
When this warning period was eventually over and Suraj's normal condition had unfortunately returned, he began to wonder why he was standing there where he was.

He looked around and saw the relay timekeeper standing at the side of the track. Suddenly, no longer looking athletic nor interested in athletics, Suraj slouched over to the official.
"Hey Mister, do you have a cigarette for me?"

"What! A cigarette! You must be joking! You're about to run the fourth leg of an important race. Look over there! They're getting ready to start."
"Mister, give me a cigarette or don't give me one. I need one and if you don't give it to me, I'll go over there to the tuck shop and buy some."
"Hell I an't believe this. Why is this happening? Wait, stay here! I'll give you a cigarette. You can't go wandering all over the place now. They're going to begin running at any minute now."
Suraj took the cigarette and waited while the official, with a puzzled look on his face, lit it for him.

 With the cigarette dangling from his lips, he walked past his hand-over station where the other three competitors were standing and waiting.
These runners watched, dumbfounded, as he went over to the nearest spectator bench and sat down seemingly without a care in the world. He leant back and closed his eyes only moving his hand occasionally whenever he needed another puff. They had never seen anything as bizarre as that.

The crack of a pistol shot echoed throughout the stadium and the relay race, the highlight of the day, began. Jabu, the first runner in Suraj's team was a brilliant athlete. He reached the end of his 110 metre stretch already about four metres ahead of the nearest rival.
Anil, the second man, also ran well and when he had reached the third runner, they were now six metres ahead of their rivals.
Sanjay, the third member of the team, had trained with utter dedication, for this race. For him, it would be his last athletic gathering at the school. He wanted to leave in a blaze of glory. He ran an inspired race and even exceeded Jabu's commendable effort. As he drew nearer to the end of the third 110 metre stretch, he held his baton ready for the hand-over to Suraj, the last runner.

He felt a surge of pride as he saw that he had now drawn eleven metres ahead of the nearest rival. He then looked up but could not believe his eyes. There was no Suraj? He could not believe his eyes. He looked around frantically and then saw the timekeeper gesticulating. He was pointing desperately towards the spectator bench.

Sanjay stared in horror. He sawSuraj, leaning back quite oblivious of all the fuss around him. He was lazily blowing smoke rings into the air. Not one to be easily put off, Sanjay ran off the track and almost shouted at Suraj. His arms were stretched out towards him in a pathetic appeal.
"Suraj! Come on! You must run! You can't sit here! Take this baton and run. Please, I beg you to take this baton. Do it for us, please!"

Suraj opened his eyes and looked blearily at Sanjay.
"Baton? That thing? What must I do with it?"
"Oh please, Hash, you must run! Please!"
"You must be crazy! Why should I run? I'm happy sitting here. Why don't you go away?"
Sanjay was stunned. He did not know what to say. He ran over to the track official. They did not say anything to each other. The situation was beyond words. The older man looked sadly at Sanjay and slowly shook his head.
He placed his hands on the young man's shoulders and looked at his downcast eyes. At last he spoke.
"Sanjay, my son, go home. There is nothing that we can do now."

Later, when Sanjay met his co-runners, he could not, for a while, tell them what had happened. It was all still too incredible for him to come to terms with.