Part 2: The Match

Paragraph 1: The crowd.

The Screamers took on the pitch for the first time in a long, long while. God had they missed it: the smell of the grass, the smack talks, the cheerleaders and that mixed feeling of excitement and fear and determination they felt anytime they put their masks on.
But most of all, the crowd. That's what they missed the most: that screaming, stinking, drunken mass of lowlifes that Blood Bowl fans are.

The stands growled and roared for an endless time when the two teams made their entrance. 33.000 they were, and they went wild as soon as the teams made their entrance.

The Chaotic abominations seemed unimpressed. They had played bigger games, had bigger crowds... they were just used to it.
But the Screamers... the Screamers didn't expect this.
"Looks like we still got some fans!" Coach Street said to his lads.
The stands were filled with banners and stripes from their fans "Go Screamers!", "Live Mad! Die Screaming!" and a huge square banner with the image of an Elf leaping over the opponents, the ball in his hand and the writing "Banshee fan club".

After so much time since their last game, the crowd was still on their side!

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Paragraph 2: The toss.

The teams aligned in the middle of the pitch, the referee called in the team captains.
"Play it fair and square - he said - I got my eyes on both you, so watch your boots and hoofs. Now - he turned towards Banshee - choose, heads or tails?".
"Heads" replied the Screamer, as he always did.
The ref tossed the coin, as it whirled into the air, Coach Street's words crossed Banshee's mind "Of one thing alone I'm sure: whatever happens, we're going to kick first.".

"TAILS" the referee said, and a complacent smile crossed Uedder Street's face "They will choose to receive... all Chaos choose to receive."

"We kick" said the Watchmen's coach. The Screamers looked at each other with blank stares, a big question mark over their heads. Then they turned to their coach, who was arguing with the referee and his staff "They can't do that! They can't! Since when do Chaos teams choose to kick first? This is unprecedented!". But all his words couldn't change the cold hard facts: their whole match plan had just been screwed.

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Paragraph 3: An improvised masterpiece

The elves surrounded their coach, looking for some kind of suggestion, some insight. They hadn't prepared an offensive drive, but surely their coach had a backup plan, right? What kind of coach would enter a match like this without a backup plan?

But Coach Street simply shrug his shoulders "Score at the end of the half." were his only words. And when his players asked him how, he replied "Improvise.". Then he called on Max to exchange a few words...

"Listen Max, and listen well. I don't want you to end any turn standing on your feet, is that clear? Pile on, always pile on. They're gonna put tents on you, don't try to dodge away, just take any block you can. Even if they outstrenght you, just jump up and take the block. Target their rookish guards and then pile on again. Is that clear?"

The blitzer gave his coach a questioning look "They're gonna boot me, coach..."

"I hope they do! - Uedder Street replied - look at the ref, look at how is shirt perfectly clean and ironed. That guy is a fusspot. Then look at his pointy ears... that guy is an elf! See it? The reff is a fussy elf, he's gonna send them out without a second thought. Now go Max, and remember: ALWAYS PILE ON!"

And so the match began. A beastman kicked the ball with his dirty, clumsy hoofs, sending it flying deep in Screamers territory. A perfect kick for the elfstall, so after getting rid of the los blocks and of a Guardigor, Lzzy Hale proceeded to pick up the ball, setting the elven offence running.

Critics later defined the drive as a "Clockwork elfstall" or "Elfball masterpiece", pointing out Lzzy as "elfstall maestro". Here's what Lzzy remembers about that drive:
"Yeah, I picked up the ball and then I just stood there. Everyone was running around, punching and getting punched, while i just sat there. I remember that the grass was very soft... at one point I was forced to move because I couldn't see what was happening upfield, that was annoying. I think I fell asleep in turn 3 maybe... but then Coach Street screamed to me to pass the ball upfield, so I got to my feet, walked with the ball and threw the long pass. BAM! Straight to the receiver, and that's about it.". Maestro.

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Paragraph 4: WE ARE WINNING THE BASH WAR!!!

Since the very beginning of the match, it was pretty clear that the match would've turned into a brawl, with little to no concern about the ball. Odds were the elf team would've been crippled in a few turns, but when his lads gained numeric supremcy on the field, Coach Uedder Street, usually very composed, went wild. When the ref sent off the Watchmen's fouler he was seen screaming around, taunting the opposition and exciting the fans with the unfitting words "WE ARE WINNING THE BASH WAR!!", even though the Screamers had only managed to send one goat to the ko box until that moment.

But his words would've been proven as prophetic, as the Chaotic killers just kept on hitting soft, while the elves managed to score a couple of nasty mighty blows.

Here's the first half in the words of the match MVP, a rookie lineman.
"Well, the Watchmen are reknown killers you know? We've seen them slaughter orc teams in just a couple turns, they have a reputation for that. Usually in this kind of games we (the linemen) don't get to play much. You get hit in the first couple turns, get piled on, and that's it you get in dugout to hopefully never come back, right? But we had these big, mean angry killers screaming things to us such as "AAAGH I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" "I'M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR HEART AND EAT IT!" "IMMA PILE AWN YOUR FACE!", right? And then they'd just push us. They didn't punch us, they didn't hit us with their horns. They'd just push us. I couldn't believe it, I mean I'm really bad at being blocked. I once got hit a fly while running and it knocked me out, that's how bad I am at being blocked. But these guys, they just couldn't hurt us... It felt like a pillow fight, really.".

Coach Street's taunting words proved to be prophetic when Banshee managed to injure The Comedian, one of the most feared warriors on the pitch, promptly patched by the apothecary.

"Yeah, I remember that - Dexter explains - Banshee had just blitzed that guy, but to no use. We really wanted him out so I moved in to lay a boot, but I hadn't my fouling boots on, so all I could do was to damage the straps of his helmet. And then this mountain of flesh stood up, and grasped us all with his tentacles. Those things were strong, we couldn't move at all! I thought we were doomed, I mean half of our team was trapped with tentacles and there were killers all around the place. That's when Banshee struck. He jumped, and landed his "double kick to the head". We saw the helmet flying into the air, and for a moment i thought there must've been the guy's head in there! The crowd went crazy on that blow! That's typical Banshee madness, everybody cheered there, even the Chaos fans, it was just amazing.".

But when Max head-butted Rorschach, breaking his both his helmet and his skull, everybody went WILD. Coach Street was seen laughing hysterically, speaking gibberish, frothing at the mouth. Max turned towards the opposition, screaming "YOU ARE GOING DOWN! YOU'RE GOING DOWN MOTHERF*****s!". And so did the Warrior that tried to blitz him, doubleskulled to the ground.

Yes, in that crazy improvised masterpiece, the maimed elves managed to outbash the meanest team around.

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Pargraph 5: Banshee stands in the endzone.

To put a sigil on his amazing performance, Banshee also scored the touchdown. He was already unreachable for the opposition: too fast, too strong, too agile. Too Banshee.

When the Screamers' Captain (now just 1 spp short of becoming the greatest active pro elf) walked in the endzone, just in that moment did he realise what they had one. A masterpiece, their best performance ever, and finally in a Major game! He stood there, staring at the cheering crowd, lifting the ball over his head. He then threw it into the ground with all of his strenght and released all of his energy, with the longest, most powerful scream he had ever screamed. His voice was heard over the cheering crowd, his eyes set with pride and determination. There was fire in Banshee's eyes.

And after the ritual LoS blocks, the half was over.

Mad Screamers 1 - 0 Watchmen Philosophy.

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Paragraph 6: The half-time (un)inspirational talks.

The Screamers got back to their locker room full of confidence, with high spirits and boasting about their unexpectedly amazing performance. Sentences like "We're kicking them!", "They're eating the dust!", "We're going to win this 3-0!" were spoken in an electrifying atmosphere.

That's when Coach Street felt the need to give his team a little speach.

"It's not over yet! Yes, we played well, yes we're leading and yes they're playing poorly, but don't you ever think the second half is going to be easy. Those guys are killers! True killers! They might've gone through a bad half, but there's no way they're going to replicate that. They're gonna come at you, and they will start hitting hard! So, now we kick, we still got numbers, so remember the game plan! Play this like it's turn 1! Setup one step back to deny a blitz on the backline, kick deep, run for the ball, screen to prevent a cage and mark the guards. Is that clear? - the Screamers roared in approval - Ok guys, this is what we trained for, this is our best chance to make history, let's do it! THIS is the drive of our LIVES!"

The locker room resounded again with screams.

That's when Alalazel the Bard (the team cheerleader, really just a fan who wanted to join the Screamers but couldn't Scream strong enough) decided it was time to give to cheer up the guys, so he grabbed his lute and improvised a melody.

"Let's play the drive of our lives" he sang with his with his weak, shaky voice out of tune.
And on and on he went, for 10 minutes long, improvising lyrics on how glad he was to be part of a team making history, how sad is life was when the team had disbanded and stuff like that. Some recall him mentioning his love for onions and a failed marriage with an ogress, but most of the team had fallen asleep at that point.
Alazalel was describing the verrucas on his feet, when Max couldn't handle it anyomre. He stood up, grabbed the lute from the bard's hands and smashed it on his head. But alas, it was too late: all the spirit, the fire, the atmosphere, all of it, was gone...

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Paragraph 7: The drive of our lives.

After Alazalel's (un)inspiring performance the Screamers set foot on the pitch. Distracted. Lazy. Annyoed. They messed up the initial setup, allowing an easy blitz on the backline. Coach Street shook his head in desperation "These guys..." he thought.

The Watchmen instead were fired up and ready to kill. Right from the start, LoS blocks and 2 screamers out. Then a blitz on Banshee: Hollis Mason charged in, hit Banshee right on the chest with his horns, sending him into the ground. Then in one, smooth move jumped onto him, the hoofs on the head. The sound was awful. The stadium held their breath. But Banshee immediatly stood up, although staggering. Then a cascade of blood started spouting off his head. The elf rolled his eyes backwards and fell again to the ground. The Stadium went boom. Such an amazing sight to see! A wounded elf legend, even the Screamers fans couldn't help themselves from cheering.

Banshee left the field but was promptly patched by the Apothecary.

That set the record running. The Watchmen were back and out for blood. A different team, they kept on removing elves, the Screamers fans, usually loud, grew more and more silent... but hope was not lost.

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Paragraph 8: A break for the ball!

The Screamers didn't do anything Coach Street had told them to: they didn't pressure the ball, they didn't prevent the cage, they didn't mark the guards. They just ran. Trying to save the few good players from the frenzied Pestigors.

But then a chance came. The Watchmen were out chasing the elves around the pitch, and the cage was loose. Lou Koller was near, if the ball went popping, he could've recovered. Roger was still around, too. Hop the ball to him and it would've been done, he was good at dumping the ball off to his team-mates.

Coach Street stared at the wizard. He thought a while, Chris might have been able to reach the ball carrier and blitz him... it wasn't easy. And if he failed, the whole game would've been at take.

That's when Luthor Drachen (the wizard) spoke "There is this spell... - he explained - it's called 'Lightning bolt', it converges the winds of magic into a strong flux of hyperpolarized ether that in return generates a great strike of energy with extreme accuracy and devastating effects."

Coach Street gave him a blank stare, at which Meister Drachen snorted "I can fry that goat." he said pointing at Dollar Bill.

Coach Street kept on thinking. Then he recalled his own words "This old man is our secret weapon. Our ticket to glory!". That's when he snapped and called the play: "Chris Blitz the carrier! Max, assist!". It was a risky play, but he couldn't risk wasting the ticket to glory. Not at this point.

The mage insisted "I have taken part of many pigsking fights before, and being a man of wisdom, I did learn to master its strategies. And i have to say, this really looks like the best shot for my magic to turn the game in your favor!"

But his wise words fell on deaf ears. "Who's the coach here? You're our ticket to glory! Our secret weapon! I won't have you squander your magic if I'm not sure we can secure the ball! - Coach Street replied - Now is not the time, I feel it, in my guts! Chris, blitz the carrier!".

The wizard wouldn't give up trying speaking some sense in the Coach "At least move your players first! One is next to a killer, and two are by the sidelines! If the blitz fails, you're left hopeless!"

"He won't fail." Coach Street replied with a smile full of confidence.

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Paragraph 9: Just a quick (s)nap.

Robert Plant opened his eyes. He stared at the sky full of stars, the grass so soft under his body. "Aaah, this is such a great way to spend a saturday night... sleeping under the stars...". Then memories started returning back to him "Oh, wait wasn't I playing a game?!?". He recalled, he was running from the goats, then he had tripped and hit his head. He looked around himself, he saw 3 of his team-mates. They were staring at the stars, too, right a few meters from him. He turned the other way and saw Coach Street on the bench. He was strangely calm.

"Keep sleeping, Rob, just keep sleeping." the coach told him.
Robert lifted his eyebrow "What?"
"The ball is gone, we've got no chance. Just lay there and take a quick nap. We're going to need you real bad as soon as they score."
Then he screamed to the other players "Guys, stay down. Take a quick nap, watch the stars, just don't stand up."

And so they did.

The crowd cheered when the beastman entered the endzone. "Dammit! - Robert thought - this should've been the drive of our lives... instead it all went down to sh*t!".

His match had been pretty dull. He had mostly spent the time running around aimlessly, trying not to draw attention, staying safe from the killers. He did made a couple of blitzes, but that wasn't really his job. His game was just about to start, and it would've lasted just one turn.

The Screamers got back in droves. 4 of them were in the dugout trying to recover and they all came back "They're not gonna hit us? Then sure I can play!" they had said. Mike had fallen asleep on the pitch so hard that they weren't able to wake him up tho, but they still had the numbers to make it.

They set up as Coach street told him "Why can't you sidestep goddamit?" he always asked him.

But this was too important. Right before the kick all the Screamers took a quick step, the ref didn't notice, and the touchdown was just one push away.

Robert got the ball, then he got pushed and pushed again until he saw it: the empty field in front of him, the line of defence accross the endzone.

"There we go!" He said to himself. Run Run, leap, go for it, dodge and TOUCHDOWN!

Right on the final whistle.

They had made it, against all odds. They had taken that one chance in a million that they had and turned it into reality. They had shown everyone what it truly means to be a Screamer.

Mad Screamers 2 - 1 Watchmen Philosphy.

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Epilogue:

The old wizard left the pitch shaking his head without saying a word. He felt insulted: he, the great Luthor Drachen had been summoned just to warm a bench! It was unprecedented. And yet is hear was racing, for the very first time in so many years of pigskin fights. He was excited. He had the feeling that magic had just happened. Not his kind of magic, but magic nevertheless. He had just seen Nuffle's hand pulling the threads.

Many things had Luthor Drachen seen in his rusty old life. But never he had seen an epic display of Madness.

The old wizard smiled. "Maybe - he thought - I should give this Blood Bowl thing a try...".

THE END