As the CTGFM stadium had emptied, a lonely goblin was still standing near the center of the pitch, lost in thoughts, leaning over a battered broom stick. The ground was littered with confetti, broken bottles and a few passed-out fans, reminding Stick Steve, as his team mates called him, of the festivities that had just taken place. He still couldn't grasp what had happened today. Only a few hours earlier, he had been standing at the same place, waiting for the game to start. A simple warm-up match after the summer-break. To get back into the rhythm. Another tiny step to his long-term dream of becoming the most successful Goblin player alive.

The opponents: a hardened Orc team that the spectators expected to put up a good fight. They never got the chance. After an insanely violent first half, eight Orcs had been carried off the pitch - two of them to never wake up again, and five more so injured that they were not able to play anymore for the rest of the match. The media would later refer to this event as the Gobbocanazo - a loss so dramatic, it would traumatize generations of young Orcs to come. Hopelessly down in numbers, there was nothing the green skins could do to stop Stick Steve from scoring. Again. Again. Again. And Again. The crowd went crazy, as one record after the other was broken. When the final whistle blew, everyone in the stadium realized
they had witnessed a historic moment, a once-in-a-lifetime game. Which made Stick Steve finally the greatest Goblin star alive.

Steve's thoughts went out to his team mates, without whom his success would not have been possible. His long-term friend and personal body guard Groucho, who would literally clear the path for him. Young Bonzo, regrown from a finger of the deceased Bonzo, who had never complained of being only second troll after Groucho. Mr. Lollipop, the friendly Fanatic that so often had taken a hit for him. Metalhead and his trustworthy chainsaw, stained with the blood of countless blodging sidesteppers. Mirvy, the bombardier, who would once in a while do something useful. And the many others that had lost health or even life during his career. The House of Flang came to his mind, that had already contributed ten generations of linegoblins to the team.

Steve knew he had been blessed by Nuffle. He, the little weakling with his chronic concussion, had against all odds risen to the top. Now he just had to manage to stay alive long enough to enjoy the fame. And complete a pass. Seriously, it can't be that difficult. A simple pass. Only one!