“Chapter 8

Coach Robsson smiled as his players trudged off the field with their heads hung low. Twenty-five years of BloodBowl experience had taught him many things and one of them was that the match after a huge win was almost guaranteed to be a dismal failure. The players were just not hungry enough for victory. He’d seen it scores of times with dozens of teams. And he’d seen it again today. Complacency.

To tell the truth, the game hadn’t actually been the complete disaster he’d envisaged. The White Men in Black Suits had actually scored twice and up until the middle of the second half it could easily have stayed as a draw. But it wasn’t just the players’ commitment that seemed to vanish after a big win, it was luck as well. The gods of BloodBowl were fickle at the best of times and it took a lot more than the few words of thanks he’d mumbled to them after the last game to convince them to favour you twice in a row.

That was why he’d jumped at the chance to play another team of wood elves. The Twin Peaks Steeplejacks were doing the rounds and even though they were just as new as the White Men, they were clearly at least one step further up the ladder than his lot. But they hadn’t thought to employ a treeman yet so it was a good bet that it would be a game of passing and scoring, not bashing.

And so it had turned out. Once again they’d used the So Much-One More move to great effect and it had provided both their scores. Those two were coming along nicely now. Their confidence was growing and they were developing some good skills along the way – so almost certainly it was time for one of them to suffer an injury, just to spoil the party. Coach Robsson made a note to look into possible back-ups for the two players in the near future.

As the players gathered round for their post-match debrief, Robsson made sure he had his serious face on once more.
“Well. That was certainly not your finest hour, was it?”
“Sorry coach,” mumbled a few of the players.
“You blocked like a bunch of halflings with indigestion. You made no effort to chase after the ball once you’d lost it. And you fell over if one of the opposition so much as walked past you too quickly. But worst of all, you disappointed the fans. I saw scores of them leaving early and goodness knows whether or not they’ll ever be back. I’ve a good mind to dock your pay.”
The players all looked glum. There was no disputing their performance had been lacklustre at best.
“But I’m not going to,” continued Robsson. “And I’m not going to for two reasons. The first is that the game went exactly as I expected it to. I knew you’d play like a bunch of no-hopers. It’s always the way after a big win. That’s why I went and found you a soft game. And secondly, I had a very successful game, even if you didn’t.”
He lifted up the stack of parchment he’d been clutching in his hand. There were dense scribbles across every sheet.
“I was taking notes. It’s been a while since I got to watch a good wood elf team perform and I wanted to see if there was anything I could learn from them. As you see, there was quite a bit. And you’ll be pleased to hear that we’ll need a fair few extra sessions on the training field to work our way through this lot. Now go get cleaned up and get some rest. We’ll start at dawn tomorrow.”

After the players had wandered off, Coach Robsson called across to a fat, well-dressed Halfling who was standing at the side of the pitch and motioned for him to come over. The Halfling looked around cautiously and then waddled across.
“Well, Milo,” asked Robsson. “How did we do?”
The Halfling reached into one of the deep inside pockets of his finely-tailored jacket and drew out a bundle of small pieces of paper, waving them with glee.
‘Promissory notes, every one of them. I got a few of my boys to place wagers with all the big syndicates and after your last game we were able to get some pretty good odds against you. Although Big Jim Armsplint was not to be fooled and refused to give us more than evens.”
Robsson flicked through the notes and handed them back with a smile.
“Excellent work, Milo. Feel free to take your usual percentage of course and then have the rest delivered as soon as possible.”
“Want me to drop it round here?”
Robsson looked shocked.
“Gods, no! This is not team business, this is personal. This is going straight in my retirement fund. Have it dropped off at the house. And make sure you come after dark. Well after dark.”
”