Here we go, the second part of the Pleasantview Chronicles. Or well the first part since the other was a prlogue I guess. Unlike play by plays, I wanted to give more of a backstage look at a team, as I've always found off field drama as intereting as on field. Also I suck at play by plays.



The final whistle blows at the recently constructed Broke Memorial Field. The Plumbbobs stagger, limp, and groan their way down the North Tunnel to their locker room. A preseason friendly was all it was, in the NWFLs open format. But it hurt all the same, a practice punch to the teeth is pretty much the same as a real one after all. But despite the pain, spirits were high.

Nobody had expected much when they went to the field. A team of Flag-Bowl players against one of the veterans of the NWFL, the Slann Frogcisco 49ers, with nearly 150 matches under their belt. The difference in salary cap was so great the NWFL provided a staggering 450 thousand gold crowns in petty cash to them. The money was spent mostly on refreshments from the local halfling bakery, Mr Pratch was nothing if not a glutton.

But, somehow, death had seemed to elude them. What should have been a one sided slaughter had turned into a respectable 1-2 loss that easily could have gone the other way, and Frank himself was named the team's MVP by the NWFL Player's Association. He left the stadium with his head held high, to the home team's singing chant of "Love and Pain, Pride and Shame! Could've Been Me!"

In the locker room however, things were different. Joe Chipsman, always an insufferable money grubber, had already gone and read the details of the NWFL Salary Cap and Player's Union. It seems that the salaries of the players was very, very firmly set in stone, and Joe wanted his 100,000 gold crowns for this season now, not later.

"Now listen Frank, I busted my ass out there. Scored a touchdown, sent a guy home, and I think the time I spent posing with the fans for crystalgraphs should be considered as well." In reality, the touchdown was scored by the bespectacled Meekins, the injuies by Jennifer and Frank himself, and the crowd pleasing by the alluring Vanessa Trinity and cool as ice Rodger Gordons. But Frank knew better than to argue with Joe when he was in one of his moods.

Giving a somewhat uncalled for shoulder check to Joe as he walked by, Frank headed for his office, and poured himself a stiff drink of dwarven ale (shameful for an elf for sure, but by the gods did he need it), and went to look over his ledgers. Joe did have a point about the money after all. The red ink was much like the blood spilled on the pitch, vast and terrifying. One million gold crowns for the team and staff, per year! And that's not counting if they brought on bench players or multi year contract fees. Even more in stadium maintenance, security, and bribes was, it was enough to make him shudder.

But looking at the income was just as staggering! At 30 crowns a ticket, they had made 450,000 crowns in gate receipts! And only 120,000 of that income was awarded by the NWFL to the two team's "on field expenses" accounts. The rest, was his! Sure he took some of a hit from that for the off field expenses, and had to put some of it away for next year's salary, but he still had quite a nest egg for himself. Plus as a team member, he also got his own yearly salary.

Maybe the Plumbbobs being in the NWFL wasn't such a bad thing after all.