Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - (better edition and translation)

Big stadium. Huge crowds of fans. Sparkles from dozens of cameras. Flags and flares. Players on the field are full of excitement and the desire to win. 

None of that was there. Instead of a huge stadium, there was just a field with markings and wooden benches on the sides of the pitch. Fans were mostly coming from the opponent's side, and our fans were fat married alcoholics who came for the sake of remembering the good old days and drinking. There were only two cameras and they were very old. There were almost no flags or flares. Only a couple of flags with signs of teams and a huge banner advertising our main and only sponsor's stuff. 

And the players - that's a different story. After a quick look at my team, I got discouraged. They were not even average, but worse plus with tons of injuries and just all sorts of minuses to the characteristics. Alcoholism and obesity had at least a third of them, and the rest were preparing to achieve them. The opposing team was slightly better than us, ordinary people with minimal physical fitness and a couple of guys with good pass skills for amateurs. I wondered if I had signed a contract with an official club and not a gang of trash who like to play ball at weekends followed by a party in a pub. It's just that the enemy amateur team looked more professional than my official team. 

All right. We work with what we have and hope we don't die. - with a sigh, I stand up and fix the crappy armor I got yesterday. 

The game is about to start and I need to make sure everything is in order. In my case, it is especially important, because I was not even able to get used to the new armor. In some places, armor caused a rash and prevented me from even moving properly. I spent all last night and this morning fitting and getting used to the armor. 

Let's start with the helmet. It was dented and scratched, and a few layers of paint didn't help hide the fact that it had been repaired several times and that they did it in a shitty way, one of the cracks was somehow covered by a plate on rivets. Face protection was in the form of a couple of thin wires instead of a normal mask and I was lucky that there was at least such protection. I could have run around with an open face like our catcher. 

Body protection was in the form of not the most comfortable and sturdy breastplate. Also worn and patched many times. The funny thing is that it had a part for back protection, but apparently, it was broken and sent for meltdown or just sold. But it's better than nothing. I'm a tough guy, but with armor, even shitty armor, I have a better chance of survive. 

Gauntlets. The only thing I was satisfied with. The wild mix of gauntlet and brass knuckles made me feel confident. And with my strength, I don't think knocking out an enemy would be that hard. 

My legs were without much protection except for a strong padding in my pants and thick boots, which, judging by the thickness of the spikes, were mostly needed not for running, but for killing the downed and inflicting injuries in the fight. And of course there were knee pads, thick and with a couple of small spikes, which seemed to me to be more for decoration than for practical use. 

Before the start of the game I was allowed to touch the ball saying "to get used to the ball's roughness" and they laughed like morons. Then there was a short practice warm-up, during which we left the ball. It was just awful. I managed to make a pass only in 20 percent on the catching the ball was successful only in a third of cases, more precisely in 30-40 percent and this in good conditions. But with power everything was easy, no one could break through my defense, and no one could stop my attacks. It was also easy to take the ball away, most of the time the opponent lost the ball, and if I was lucky I could just take the ball away and send the opponent flying with my fist. Grim was happy about that, although he was booing that I was a clumsy thug who couldn't pick the ball up off the ground, let alone pass it. 

That cheered up the other players...but really, reading their facial expressions, I could tell they were just going to dump all the workload on me. To them, I'm the steam engine that's gonna pull the whole team up. Bastards. 

Here we are called to the field and most of the team members went to the center of the field flopping from side to side like pregnant ducks. Although if you remember how much they've been drinking to get their spirits up, I'm surprised they can even walk in formation. Some experience. 

The loudspeakers have come on in the arena. 

- Dear viewers. Tonight is another match of the Middenland Regional Cup. This time, two teams will face off. A team just out of the amateur ranks, the "Field Wolves". They've shown some good results. In their last game they were able to score 4 touchdowns and put several of their opponents down to the infirmary. - Commentator 1 said.

- As I remember that stream of blood and the crunch of a broken jaw, it makes me want to say "Bravo! Do it again!". And I really hope I see something similar today. - commenter 2. 

- Oh, I think your hopes are baseless. Carroburg Jackasses haven't shown anything worthy of the crowd's attention and applause in several...- commenter 1. 

- Several games? - Commentator 2. 

- Several decades! Hahahah- commentator 1. 

Both commentators laughed loudly, and a lot of the audience cheered in support for them. I just sighed and got ready to listen to the clubs anthem songs. 

The first song to play was by the Fields Wolves. Not bad, very driving folk-rock type of tune. Then it was our turn...but I wish it hadn't been. 

One of the musicians hiccupped at the beginning of the song, and then vomit came out of his pipe. That's a hell of a start. Our fans shamefully lowered their eyes, a couple of the most pissed off ones started throwing trash and bottles in the direction of the musicians, who tried to pull their puking comrade away. 

- Well, at least they know how to put on a show. A clown show. Hahahahaha- the commentators laughed again. 

Having finished with the ceremonies, we dispersed, leaving only the coaches on the field, who had to decide with a coin toss who would be the first to put the ball in play. We were unlucky, the enemy would attack and we had to withstand the attack. 

- All right, go and get in defensive formation. If you screw up this play, I'll shove this ball and your hands up your butt! - Grim threatened and kicked the team onto the field. 

- You stay on the bench for now. Watch your teammates play Blood Bowl. - he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. 

I nodded and sat down, ready to watch. I had my doubts that I'd see a game and not a show of idiots playing with a ball. 

The whistle blows. The kick sends the ball into play, and it lands right in the hands of the enemy thrower. And then the enemy team comes at our guys. Punches, kicks, wrestling moves. Ours somehow managed to hold the line on defense and the exchange was one to one. But after a few minutes or so, there was a gap in our defense and the catcher and lineman went in. 

The enemy thrower saw their dash and waited for the catcher's wave and made a long pass. Our guys tried to block it, but only managed to knock thrower off his feet when the ball was already in the air. The catcher reaches for the ball and his fingers touch the ball's rough skin, but he still fails to catch the ball. The ball goes a little sideways because of the contact with his fingers. There would have been a chance to intercept the ball and kick it toward the enemy half. But the lineman catches the ball at the last minute and rushes toward the end zone. One of ours rushes at him from behind, but misses and makes a line on the turf with his face. And the lineman finally makes one last run and crashes into the end zone. 

- Touchdown! Only three minutes into the game and already a touchdown! And it's just the beginning of the game. How much time do you think they'll score this game? - commentator 2 

- Well, if you consider that the average match goes between 60-70 minutes, then at least 20 and with some luck it is possible to make it to 30. - commentator 1. 

Hearing the words of the commentators, Grim clenched his fists and pointed his finger at me. 

- Baha! On the field! 

I stand up and put on my helmet heading towards the field. I take a spot in the center and wait for the replacement to finish waiting for the whistle to start the match.