In a
worth seeing match against the established
Grimsby Town Bloodbowl Team,
Stick Steve, Star Pogoer of
Catch The Grenade For Me, managed to become the
best Pogoer alive.
Steve, seventh child of a low-level accountant and a stay-at-home dad, had never been a very bright kid, and his small figure made him an easy target for the neighbourhood bullies. Growing up in the shadows of his smarter and stronger siblings, he remained his parents' biggest worry. Little did they know what he was about to become. Soon after his sixteenth birthday, lacking any other career opportunities, Steve took over the job as the towel boy of the local bloodbowl team. Standing at the sideline, handing out water kegs and collecting dirty towels and detached limbs, he dreamed of being a star. Adored by the masses, respected by his family. Wiping the sweaty change room floor with his broom stick, he knew he didn't have a chance. Beaten up once too often by his class mates, he suffered from a chronic concussion, and according to his doctor, the last thing he was allowed was playing a bloodbowl match.
Then came that legendary day he will never forget. His team was about to face their first opponent in the play-offs. But there was a tiny problem. A friendly practice match against a local Chaos Dwarf team had left four members dead and several others seriously injured. The head coach was desperate. It seemed that the Goblins could not field the required minimum number of players, automatically losing the game. Shaking his head, his eyes caught Steve, who was standing in the corner, leaning over his broom. "You there", the coach shouted. "Do you know how to hold a ball?".
The rest is history. Steve turned out to be a natural. Small and agile, only few opponents were able to ever get a hold on him, and even in the most desperate situations he found a way out, using his stick to catapult himself over the defensive lines. As he earned the respect of his team mates, he entered a deep friendship with Troll Groucho, the star blocker in the team. Throwing himself against anybody in his way, often burying the opposing ball carrier under his massive body, Groucho would clear the path for Steve to come in, pick up the ball and score the decisive touchdown.
It was Steve's
41st game, when he finally became the best active Pogoer. Gobbovision was reporting live from the match, and even legendary Ripper had joined the team as a guest star to witness the spectacle. Steve's team mates were on fire, and it was obvious that they would give everything to make this night unforgettable. Likely, the steroids the coach had been pouring into the water supply for the last few weeks contributed to that, too. Grinding the Humans down, breaking both their spirit and spine, the Goblins were only seconds away from winning, when the whistle finally ended the match. But the draw felt like a victory. And when Groucho lifted Steve on his shoulders, celebrating with the fans, everyone knew they had witnessed the rise of a new legend.