“Chapter 2


A home game. Well, thought Coach Robsson, let’s see how many of those new fans have decided to stick with us. He looked out at the parched, cracked ground that was their home field. Once some money started to come in, he’d need to do something about that. After all, a wood elf team ought to have a lush green field to play on – even a team as hopeless as this one.

Three days had gone by since their first game. Plenty of time for some good training sessions and Robsson really felt one or two of the players were settling in nicely. His passer, So Much For the Afterglow, for example. He was really getting the hang of the quick pass. He was fast and had good hands – even in the rain he’d not dropped the ball – but he needed to increase his range. A wood elf should be able to throw the ball half the length of the pitch and be sure it would land where he wanted it to. Well, they’d work on that after this game.

Swainamark Rattlers. Funny name for a high elf team. Sounded more like a slann team, but then White Men in Black Suits certainly didn’t sound at all elvish either, he mused. These days people were being more adventurous with their names. Maybe it was out of boredom, or for tax reasons. Or maybe it was just that all the traditional names had been taken already.

“Right”, he announced to the waiting team. “I have bad news, and I have good news. The bad news is that Viva la Vida still isn’t fit to play so we’ve got a temporary replacement in the form of Sylvester Quickspike here.”
Robsson motioned towards the awkward looking elf in the corner, trying not to be noticed.
“Say hi, but don’t get too attached. He won’t be staying after the match, and from the look of him, he may not even be staying that long.”
Quickspike gulped and squeezed himself further into his corner.
“The good news is that I’ve agreed terms with Doc Onholiday. He did so well last time out that I’ve decided to keep him. Try not to need him because he’s still a bit low on supplies and cutting equipment, but if it’s really bad, and if I think you’re worth saving, I’ll let him have a go.”
Doc Onholiday gave a cheerful wave with a bloodstained hand – not his own, but no one seemed to notice.
“Right. Now let’s show those pompous feather-heads what real elves can do!”

* * * * *

Coach Robsson had lost games before. Many games, in fact, so he wasn’t overly disappointed by the result. They’d given the fans a good show, done reasonably well at the turnstiles and no one had died. Music for Evenings had picked up a couple of broken ribs so he’d sit out the next game, but apart from that it was all good… well, almost.

“One More!” Robsson shouted to the teams sole catcher. “Over here, if you please.”
One More Cup of Coffee trotted over with an uncertain look on his face. He’d scored two touchdowns, but Coach Robsson wasn’t smiling, so it could go either way, he thought.
“Yes, Boss.”
“One More, show me your shoes.”
The catcher rummaged around in his kit bag and brought out a sorry-looking pair of patched-up moccasins. There were holes on the soles.
“What the devil are you doing wearing those things? No wonder you couldn’t stay on your feet. Every time you tried to pick up some speed you ended up arse up in the dirt.”
“Sorry, Boss. But they belonged to my granddad. I promised him I’d always wear them when I played.”
“Not in my team you don’t. Lose them.”
“But coach, please. It’s a clan tradition.”
Coach Robsson cursed. He’d worked with enough wood elves to know that no matter what you did, you couldn’t go against clan tradition. If One More had promised to wear the shoes, then he was duty bound to do it. But then what if…

The following day the team gathered for training as usual. There was much talk of the previous day’s match and how they had played. The Lion and the Unicorn was explaining to Beds are Burning how he had mashed one of the high elves into the ground and trying to get the seemingly-pacifist wardancer to copy some of his power punches.

One More Cup of Coffee arrived and stood in the centre of the field, looking as proud as could be in his new uniform. All conversation stopped as the other players regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“What on earth are you wearing?” asked the newly-returned Viva la Vida.
“I promised my granddad I’d always wear them, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
The catcher was now barefoot, as all good wood elf catchers should be. And strapped across his shoulders, like a pair of leather pads, were his grandfather’s moccasins.

”