Those Who Sport With Giants

by lord_steak

Tryouts

In a lavish rotunda of marble flagstone and pillars, and tapestries of the City of Cloudsdale hung neatly between, David Buckham paced anticlockwise around the circular table where Spitfire and the rest of the team sat, including some lower-ranked Wonderbolts, visibly mulling over something. A scroll laid on the table, fully unfurled, Soarin’ at its end with accountant’s glasses on, Spitfire one space to his left, and Fleetfoot to her left. All other eyes were trained on the pacing palomino. He stopped at a third of the way around the circle from Soarin’, rubbed at his beard for a few moments, then turned to the second-in-command Wonderbolt. “Are you sure that’s all of them?”

“Yeah, Dave. Ponyville’s not a big town. Is there something wrong?” asked Soarin’, looking up from the list and over his spectacles.

“Why would a pompous Bratty McSnobbison live there?” muttered Buckham grimly, turning his back towards the lead Wonderbolts.

Somepony around the table made the barely audible comment, “That’s not fair to Princess Twilight at all.”

“I don’t know; maybe you should ask her when we arrive?” fired back Fleetfoot with a sardonic roll of the eyes.

Ignoring this, Buckham continued, “Makes no sense. Barely over a hundred pegasi total live there, including foals. It’s not a large fief by anypony’s measure. No significant wealth, only three rich families there, all who have next-to-zero influence outside that town, nor is it along any major trade routes. The bint has no bloody reason to live there.”

“Hey, that’s no way to talk! What’s gotten into you lately?” shouted an aging mare as she stood up, coat of a pale blue-gray, white mane and tail, and cutie mark of nine accented snowflakes.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Buckham recovered, “My apologies, Flurryfeather, everypony, truly. I guess I’m letting it get to me, being so close. Who did you say were their strongest fliers, again, please?”

“Rainbow Dash, Muffins Hooves, Thunderlane, Blossomforth, Flitter, Cloudchaser, and Paper Moon. Bicycle Kick is way too old to play, but he’ll probably coach,” read off Soarin’, his face less than pleased.

Buckham snorted, “Don’t forget the princess.”

“She hasn’t had her wings for much more than a year. I don’t expect her flying to be all that great,” Spitfire disagreed with a wave of her hoof.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but she’ll be trouble if we don’t watch her,” interjected Fleetfoot.

Spitfire slowly turned to her left, giving a ridicule-laden glower to her second officer. She tapped a hoof a second before retorting, “Oh? You’re so certain, are you?”

Unfazed, Fleetfoot said, “Twilight Sparkle, as a unicorn, went to Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, graduating valedictorian three years before the return of Princess Luna, and has been Princess Celestia’s protégé for the last twelve years. She continued studying as Her Majesty’s protégé, even while attending Canterlot University and then in Ponyville, leading up to her own coronation.”

“So?” Spitfire chided.

Fleetfoot’s face and voice patronized her captain. “She’s extraordinarily intelligent.”

“What’s that matter on the pitch?” answered Spitfire, just as disdainful as her lefthoof Commander.

With concern, Fleetfoot explained, “The rules say no magic made be used on the ball, pitch, weather, or any other players. They say nothing about using magic on one’s self.”

“Are you saying she’s going to lawyer the rules?” scoffed Spitfire with an eye-roll.

Buckham said, “She could, and she’d be right: she could use magic on herself, all she wants. That rule’s ancient, before any alicorn even considered playing, and she could exploit it to the max. This is why we always have to watch out for a princess.”

An older mare near the door doubtfully asked, “Are you worried about a haste spell or something? Those are known to both age their targets and wear off quickly.”

“No, Cometeer, I’m talking about something far more serious: teleportation,” elaborated Fleetfoot with animated hooves, looking around the rotunda. “Witnesses saw her in Canterlot a little over a year back, only a month or so before her coronation, singing to herself about not being prepared for something. The song’s unimportant; what’s critically important is that the witnesses reported watching her teleport rapidly across a fountain, stopping on every large lily pad across the way, and in a different position after each jump.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Spitfire reproachfully.

Fleetfoot’s patience was audibly running dry. “I’m saying, she can pinpoint teleport, can do it quickly, and emerge in any body position she wants. Their Majesties could teleport mid-air too, yes, but Princess Twilight rematerializes far, far quicker than Princess Celestia or Princess Luna. With her brains, if she sees a clear path and gets a hoof on the ball, she’ll have a fast break, a damn quick one, too. She’ll predict the trajectory after every kick, teleport along its route, and appear just long enough to kick the ball again before teleporting to a point downrange of the new trajectory, until she takes a shot, and avoid an offsides flag. If she’s allowed to start doing that, I don’t think anypony could stop her, not you guys, not even me. Do not let her have a clear path to the goal.”

Spitfire scoffed again, shaking her head. Looking around the rotunda, she said, “Rather than worry about hypotheticals, and keeping our back three too far from the action, why don’t we focus on the clearly-defined dangers, like Rainbow Dash? That mare can move when she wants to, faster than any of us. She’s one of only a hooffull of ponies who’ve ever broken the sound barrier. She also set a really high number of records at the Wonderbolts Academy; I’m talking about breaking records I set all those years ago, and more.” Spitfire looked at the table a moment, muttering under her breath, “Hell, she has the academy record for holding the most academy records.”

“You still have the highest wing power of any living pegasus, ma’am,” Soarin’ said encouragingly.

“True, but she’s quicker than me in dives and level flying. If she gets a fast break, well, it may be up to you, Fleetfoot,” replied Spitfire, turning from her first officer to her second.

Buckham snorted, “Well, Captain, need I remind you of an old adage among coaches, one I first heard from Coach Bicycle Kick my rookie year?”

Spitfire chuckled to herself a moment, shaking her head. She looked up at the palomino and said, “No, I didn’t forget. It’s why I’m damn proud of our back three and goalie.”

“Well, there’s also Muffins Hooves. She had some serious talent. I’m surprised she didn’t come to camp that year. We really wanted her on our team,” said another aging stallion.

Buckham sighed sadly with a disappointed expression. Full of melancholy, he replied, “I don’t know why she didn’t play for the Eagles either, Tom, but with all due respect, I don’t think she can do it anymore. She’s been out of the game for years now, longer than you or I, even more than most of us here who’ve retired, and her eyes have gotten worse in the meantime. It’s a shame, but I doubt we’ll even see her on the pitch.”

---

In the late afternoon, the last three pegasi to arrive took a seat at the pitch. Five stormballs sat on the lower cloud layer just inside the field of play, violently yellow in color, stitched in an almost brick wall-like pattern. Rainbow Dash sat on the cloud-made bleachers beside Twilight Sparkle, chuckling to herself. Muffins was three lengths away, sharing a hearty laugh with a pastel pink pegasus mare with a braided sky blue mane and tail, silvery eyes, and a winged horseshoe for a cutie mark. Twilight looked down at her friend’s hooves. “Why are you holding a bubble?”

I’m still asking myself that.

Dash chuckled some more before turning to look her friend in the eye. “Ms. Hooves blew that and asked me to see how long it lasts.”

Twilight smiled. “Having a better opinion of her, I see.”

Rainbow Dash nodded for a moment. Then her gaze drifted downward. Her shoulders slumped right after her ears. Twlight cocked her head to one side. With a sigh, Dash confessed, “I feel like such a jerk.”

Twilight patted her friend on the shoulder. With a weak smile, she began, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I understand your concern with her sight, but—”

Waving her hooves dejectedly, Dash interrupted, “She was great in high school, and almost went pro, but she didn’t. She didn’t pursue that dream so that she didn’t run her parents bankrupt, in case she failed. She said she felt like they had already risked enough for her.”

Twilight’s own shoulders dropped, and with them the corners of her mouth into a somber demeanor, ears soon following. As her eyes fell to looking almost straight down to the bleachers below, she breathed, “Oh. Oh my.”

“A heart-wrenching decision I’m glad I didn’t have to make. I’m starting to see how lucky I was as a filly, with pretty well-off parents,” Dash solemnly said.

With an empathetic nod, Twilight muttered, “You and me both.”

Muffins came over and sat on the other side of Rainbow Dash as Blossomforth and a very old stallion flew onto the pitch from above and behind the stands. He looked like he was once a pine green pegasus with a white mane and tail, but now was mostly white with some green streaks, only one still dark. Those eyes, though, still a raging fire and drive shone clear behind their azure irises. While the old stallion clearly has stayed fit and active, there’s only so much good genetics and healthy lifestyles can do to slow the unforgiving march of time. His cutie mark on his flank was an unmistakable bright yellow, in a pattern any self-respecting pegasus athlete would instantly recognize anywhere: a stormball, deformed and bent from a powerful kick. He looked up into the stands, his demanding expression and steely eyes examining the entire crowd of almost sixty pegasi as Blossomforth took a seat in the front row. Not a word was spoken. The anticipation, uncertainty, and intrigue had became palpable as his eyes made a second pass through the gathering.

“I hear that somepony or someponies think they can play a little stormball!” barked the wizened old coach in his commanding baritone. “You think you play this game!?”

A few spoke their affirmations. Bicycle Kick’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit! I can’t hear you!”

Everypony said, “Yes sir!” as Twilight’s pupils contracted to pinpricks and her eyelids went as far open as the muscles could physically allow.

Bicycle Kick nearly growled before shouting, “Bullshit! I still can’t hear you! Sound like you mean it!!”

The crowd roared, “Yes sir!

The coach snorted disapprovingly. With a grunt and a breath, he bellowed, “While you are here, on this pitch, you will do everything I tell you to do! You will not whine! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will do whatever I say the first time! I do not have time to repeat myself!” He started slowly flying towards the middle of the stands, never stopping his booming monologue, “I have five days, including today, to whip this sorry, unorganized mess into a lean, mean, stormball machine! You will work like you mean it! You will work like you like it! For these five days, stormball is your life! Stormball is your job now; your employers will just have to deal! You will eat, drink, and sleep stormball! You will be begging for more stormball when Celestia puts the sun to bed! You will dream of stormball, even if Luna doesn’t want you to! You’ll be up before the ass-crack of dawn with a fire in your bellies for more stormball! And I don’t care if you’re used to the crème del la crème every morning for breakfast…”

Crap. Can’t say I’m surprised, but hold fast, Twilight.

Coach Bicycle Kick made a bee-line for Twilight, her eyes widening again as his voluminous tirade continued uninterrupted, “…made from scratch by your happy purple dragon, sitting on your goddamn fluffy pink cushions, in your pretty crystal treehouse, wearing your darling golden crown; your life is stormball now!” The old coach’s stern face was unchanged, even as he was well within Twilight’s personal space, less than an inch from noses touching. The princess’s ears fell flat as Bicycle Kick carried on, “While you’re on my pitch, I am your king, and stormball is the only thing on your mind! Do you understand that, Sparkle?!”

Twilight, in a louder than usual voice, said, “Yes sir!”

Not loud enough, Twi….

“Bullshit! I can’t hear you!” rebuked the irked coach.

Twilight shouted, “Yes sir!”

Louder!

Face contorting, Bicycle Kick snapped, “Bullshit! I still can’t hear you!”

The alarmed alicorn hollered at the top of her lungs, “I understand, sir!”

That should do it.

“What’s the matter, Sparkle? Don’t you want in?” accused the coach, now nose-to-nose with Twilight.

“I want in, sir!” screamed the alicorn, her breath accelerating and fear staining the edges of her voice.

Come on, Twi! Don’t sound scared; he’s just gonna grill you more!

“Then why don’t you sound like it?!” frothed the old stallion, some spit flying and hitting Twilight in her open mouth. The princess’s eyes narrowed.

“I will play, sir!” barked Twilight, fear being replaced with anger, and teeth clenching.

That’s it, Twilight! Feel your inner athlete!

“Don’t just play, Sparkle! Win!!” yelled Bicycle Kick, getting another splat on Twlight’s neck.

Twilight Sparkle’s face was changing expression, becoming in line with the rising fury in her inflection. “I will win, sir!”

No, inner athlete, Twi, not inner soldier....

A pointed glare betwixt the two hung heavy in the air around the determined coach and verbally beleaguered princess. Without pause, and with an up-curled upper lip, Bicycle Kick mocked, “Were you not prepared for this, Sparkle?”

“No, sir!” snapped Twilight, nostrils flaring, pupils dilating, and some veins surfacing.

Twi, keep it under control....

“Are you gonna sing about how you weren’t prepared for this!?” goaded the foach, still unblinking.

“No, sir!” snarled the princess. Muffins and several others gave a slight gasp as Dash’s eyes widened. Twilight’s mane, starting with the roots at the bottom of her neck, was being replaced by an orange-white flame, one that inch by inch supplanted the long coarse hair.

Oh hell...way too far, Twi; you have to calm down…!

Without even a slight break, Bicycle Kick continued, “Good! Only the winners get to sing on a stormball pitch!” He wheeled away from Twilight and her mounting rage, turning to different ponies in the crowd, still sans pause in his speech. “And you want to sing! You’re going to sing! I will make you sing! Get on your faces and give me a hundred wing-ups! Then the real work begins, so that you’ll sing this Saturday!”

Twilight and every pegasus gathered, except the old coach, immediately dropped and started the exercise. Five wing-ups in, the flames dissipated into her natural locks. Ten later, Twilight’s expression looked much closer to baseline. She looked over at Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves, both of whom were quicker than she was, and looked much more determined. She fumed, “What in the hoof was that!? I didn’t know he was such a potty-mouthed, militant slave-driver!!”

“I love it!” Muffins mused in a determined voice, grinning with focus in an almost sneer. “That means he’ll quickly weed out those who’ll break or hesitate to follow his orders. I’ve heard those speeches given to the rich, snobby fillies and colts who came to tryouts, to see if they’d break. You know, the ones who had their every whim catered, but daydreamed they were tough stuff. Most of them left in tears. I’m glad you didn’t break, but you worried me for a second. Just the same, though, this takes me back to happier times.”

“How can this…ugh…be happier times?” Twilight groaned.

Dash said, “Come on, Twi! Her inner athlete is coming out! For a few moments I thought yours was, too. But this is what makes it awesome! Feeling your own strength! The camaraderie of playing a team sport! All that screaming to drive us on! The taking of all that flak, pushing yourself through it and saying, ‘Yeah! What now, huh?’ afterwards! It’s to make us work as a team, as one!”

“So let’s start working as one, right now!” said Ms. Hooves. “Chant with me, Dash, doing synchronized wing-ups. We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

All right! We’re totally doing this!

Dash jumped in, “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Bottom on “we’re,” fully up on “sing,” they went. Twilight looked around, and saw others had joined them almost immediately. “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Twilight joined the others. Fully up on “sing,” dropping just before “we’re,” she exercised and chanted with the team. “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Awesome. Just awesome, Twlight. You totally gonna feel it!

A few of the pegasi had flown off, either from not appreciating Bicycle Kick’s unforgiving approach, being weirded out by the sudden chanting, or not being fit enough to do a hundred wing-ups. Unheard by the chanting team, facing away, Bicycle Kick let a pleased smirk roll over his lips. “So, those are my leaders, already rallying the others. Excellent.”

---

Thinned to just under forty, the crowd stood in three close-quartered lines before Coach Bicycle Kick, who paced before the crowd, watching them intently. The bubble Muffins gave Dash sat lightly on the bleachers, in a rounded-out hole dug for it to stay put. Throughout the crowd the palpable anticipation had changed; no more wonder, no more intrigue, no more uncertainty. Just desire. Hunger. Drive. The fires in their bellies were lit, eating up all other thoughts, and asking for seconds. All these pegasi were either a past or present athlete, a combat veteran, or both. The chanting still ringing in each of their ears drew out that focus from all. Twilight, though having been in harried situations of their own flavor, drew focus from a different place: her studies. Within the alicorn’s mind were mathematics and physics formulae, as well as an acute understanding of her own body’s strength, focusing this knowledge to the task at hoof as her own need to win grew.

Bicycle Kick showed his team a grin for the first time. Looking across them again, he spoke softer than before, but with just as much drive and motivation. “That’s more like it. That’s what I want to see from you at all times, or more so. Never less than this. Not once! You who would sport with giants need this focus! A hell of a challenge awaits you! Do you want such a challenge?”

The roaring answer came in unison. “Yes sir!”

“You would play anypony!?” fired back Bicycle Kick, resuming his old volume and zeal.

“Yes sir!” returned the crowd as one, hungry grins rising across their faces.

Bicycle Kick started rightward to the crowd, toward the line of stormballs that were there in the beginning.

Come on, coach! Get it started!

“You want to win?” he shouted.

They salivated, “Yes sir!”

Reaching out with his left foreleg, he pulled a stormball to him without even turning to look at it. “You wanna sing!?”

“Yes sir!”

“You gonna earn your right to sing!?” shouted the coach, bouncing the stormball on his knee.

Do it! We want this!

“Yes sir!”

“Then go get it! And bring it back here!!” Coach Bicycle Kick hollered as he kneed the ball high in the air, and masterfully executed the move for which he was named.

YES…!!

The stormball sailed down the pitch as the thunderous flutter and whoosh of nearly forty pegasi taking off, full-speed and nearly in perfect unison, echoed across town. In spite of being in the back row, Rainbow Dash quickly zipped out front, followed very closely by Ms. Hooves. Before they even passed midfield, a magenta burst appeared downrange from the stormball, where Twilight Sparkle appeared, used her chest to trap the ball and dribbled it back on her hind knees toward the others, most of whom flapped in place agape.

Oh, come on! That was totally...uh...what’s the opposite of “awesome” for a finish...crud…“anticlimactic,” maybe? I’ll go with it: that was totally anticlimactic, Twilight!

Only Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves continued their high-speed approach as Twilight Sparkle recited with pride and eyes shut, “The rules forbid casting spells on the ball, weather, pitch, or other players. Casting spells on myself, however, perfectly legal. That includes teleportation.”

Well, if at first you don’t succeed....

Twilight opened her eyes in time to see two pegasi bearing down on her with heads full of steam. She headed the ball out of Dash’s reach at her speed.

What the...?

The ball easily went too high for Twilight to keep it away from Ms. Hooves as well. The gray pegasus deftly tapped the ball away from the princess’s reaching forelimbs, and, pulling an unsightly tight turn, began dribbling it back towards the coach between her front two hooves.

Hot damn! that was an awesome 180!

Dash had recovered from overshooting her target and was catching up fast. She shouted, “Hey Muffins! Why didn’t you say you could pull hairpin turns?”

“Because you never asked!” replied the grinning wall-eyed mare, eyeing Dash’s approach above her. Just as Dash thought she could steal the ball, Muffins knocked it to her right, and snickered as Dash overshot her target a second time.

Aww, not again!

Ms. Hooves flared her wings out and forward, forcing a hard right turn, easily resuming control of the ball. The rest of the crowd was in motion now. Ms. Hooves turned in time to see Thunderlane slide-tackling towards her. Extending her wingbeat, she lifted herself above her first challenger. The second, though, came from in front, and too soon after the first for Ms. Hooves to react.

Wait for it....

Paper Moon knocked the ball away, and began turning back towards the coach.

Wait for it....

Blossomforth stalled out of a climb in front of him, distracting Paper Moon enough that the she took possession and began driving towards her grandfather, just as expertly dribbling the ball as Ms. Hooves had.

There! She hasn’t looked this way yet!

“Surprise!” shouted Rainbow Dash, swooping from Blossomforth’s left at breakneck speed, taking the stormball into her own well-executed dribblin, albeit not as well-trained as Blossomforth or Ms. Hooves. She looped towards Coach Bicycle Kick, who wore a well-amused smile.

Uh-oh....

Four pegasi converged on Rainbow’s path, causing a heap of indistinguishable grunting, alarm, and displeasure. A barely-of-age stallion, Reggie Stormkicker, emerged with the ball. His possession was short-lived, as Flitter took it away, and lost it just as quick to her sister, who in turn could not keep it any longer than that from Ms. Hooves, again.

Patience, Dash. Let those two do the hard part, then move in.

With Rainbow Dash bearing down on her from behind, Thunderlane again from the side, and Blossomforth from in front, Ms. Hooves sharply turned away. Most of the crowd was behind Thunderlane, but Ms. Hooves grinned at what she saw. She knocked the ball perfectly ahead, wound up with her back right hoof, and near the exact middle of the pitch, delivered a strong kick with a visible spin on the ball.

Oh Muffins, what are you aiming at?

The ball appeared to be going into the stands, missing Bicycle Kick by a good ten-degree arc, but the trajectory began to turn...curving towards the old coach.

Huh!? What is…?

Rainbow Dash gasped, “How did you…?”

“Learned a long, long time ago how to bend it like Buckham,” Ms. Hooves said delightly, with an eyes-closed grin.

The crowd floated with jaws hanging limp again as it became flabbergastingly clear to everypony that Muffins had delivered an accurate shot, right to Bicycle Kick. The curve was right on the money, and not one of them could accelerate enough to get there in time. The coach looked at the approaching ball, and had raised a forehoof to catch the ball against his side. Then, a magenta flash shone three meters from coach, and Twilight Sparkle appeared exactly in the way. Muffins exclaimed, “Oh, come on!”

Yeah, I feel ya.

Twilight trapped the ball as before, and lightly tapped the ball into the awaiting hooves of the coach. Bicycle Kick looked her square in the eye and said, “I might have a place for you on my roster, Sparkle.”

Twilight squeed as Bicycle Kick turned to the crowd. “Did you see that? Stormball isn’t about fancy ball-handling, or necessarily taking the best shots! Stormball is about being at the right place at the right time! Then you can worry about how well you handle the ball or take a shot, and not before that! And from what I saw, eight of you were at the right place at the right time during the drill, but only Sparkle got there when it mattered the most! Get some water, Sparkle. The rest of you line up; we’re doing it again!”

---

The day had passed sundown, and stars east of Ponyville swelled in number. Sweat glazed the almost two dozen pegasi and one alicorn still at the pitch, except for Bicycle Kick, shimmering from the last quarter moon in the south-east. The teammates were paired off in two layers of six lanes, flying up and down the pitch as fast as they could handle in unison, a good ten meters apart, single-touch passing back and forth. Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves were paired together. Twilight’s partner was the young Mr. Stormkicker, whose face betrayed how awestruck and such he was with the princess.

Bicycle Kick’s stopwatch read 42:17.86 and ascended exactly as expected. The coach looked up at the drill in progress. Taking a deep breath, he boomed, “Earlier I said something in passing to you lot, that ‘you who would sport with giants need this focus.’ Let me make sure you understand exactly what giants we’re dealing with! This is not the Cloudsdale Cyclones we’ll be playing; this is a volunteer team that beat that pro team five goals to one! They play the old-fashioned 3-3-1-3 set better than any of the great teams of old did, and circled the globe with it, defeating national teams abroad, left, right, and center! Most importantly, I have your opponents’ starting line-up! Goaltender, Commander Fleetfoot! Sweeper, Franz Buckenbauer! Left Fullback, Lt. Commander Rapidfire! Right Fullback, Cometeer! Center Midfield, Thomas McNimbus! Left Midfield, Flurryfeather! Right Midfield, Lt. Commander Misty Fly! Stopper, Chris Reinaldo! Right Forward, Commander Soarin’! Left Forward, Captain Spitfire! And Striker, David Buckham!”

Many of the balls had already fallen to the lower cloud layer before the old coach finished reading the roster, as many of the participants stopped in their flight, agape at Bicycle Kick’s announcement. Dash and Muffins hadn’t even slowed down. Only one other ball was still aloft, but only briefly. Somewhere above that Twilight’s voice rang out, “Focus, Reggie!”

“Bring it in!” ordered Bicycle Kick.

And we didn’t even flinch!

Twilight flew over to Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves, who still showed the fire in their eyes and a determined grin on their faces. They hoofbumped as Twilight reached them. With a small laugh, the princess exclaimed in amazement, “I’ve never seen you like this before, Ms. Hooves. Never when you’ve worked with me have you been this focused. It’s like a whole new you!”

“I feel alive,” Muffins said with a satisfied sigh. “I know most of Ponyville thinks of me as nothing more than the happy-go-lucky but clumsy mailmare, but this...I’ve missed this. More than I thought I would. I’m my old self again. That sleeping part of me is awake. I’m not the clumsy mailmare here, out on the pitch. Here I’m not trying to learn some complicated new skills and formulae, or carry some heavy, unbalanced bag across town. No. This feels right. This feels natural. This feels like me. I’m where I belong, where I always should have been.” She gave a sad smile again, looking down as she thought aloud, “Should’ve gone for it. That first check, even as a bench-warmer, would’ve paid for eye surgery, and then...who knows how many foals’ walls would have my poster? Guess we’ll never know now.”

Oh, horsefeathers....

Dash’s and Twilight’s ears both drooped at the gray mare’s words. Muffins picked her head back up as they approached the gathered ponies around the coach, looking more the part of the mailmare everypony in town knew, instead of the athlete that had just been seen here, on this pitch, for the last several hours. Rainbow looked at Twilight, who was actively stifling being all misty-eyed. They were the last to bring it in, hovering at the outer edge of the gathering around Bicycle Kick.

The coach looked around the stunned faces of his team, taking the time to make eye contact with each and every one of them. He gave a firm and strong nod, then began another oration, its tone becoming increasingly encouraging as it went on. “Daunting. Their entire roster, both starters and relievers, nothing but big names that’ve retired, and active-duty Wonderbolts. The best of the best. Each a giant in their own right, some are even called legends. What brings down legends? Better legends, bigger legends. Champions. Those that surprise them. Those they underestimated. The ones that come at them sideways when they prepared against a frontal assault. The ones they counted out from the beginning are the ones that’ll get them. They are the ones the common ponies will remember. They will lay giants low. This, fillies and gentlecolts, this is your challenge. You will rise to meet it head-on. You are they. Remember who you are: those who sport with giants don’t back down. They don’t quit. They don’t surrender. They don’t stop. They pick each other up. They are a team. They waste no time coming together as one. They dig deeper than anypony, even themselves, thought possible. They enforce their will on the world against even the worst of odds.”

Bicycle Kick paused a moment to look around at the team, many of whom were nodding. Picking up more even more resolve, he continued, “You who remain, you are my giant-killers. I saw the fire in all your bellies today. Keep it hot. We have work to do. Be back here by 4:30 for practice. We will be watching film of their games, some drills, then breakfast. Not a bite before. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” The drive, the determination...back at full strength. Muffins’ inner athlete was out again; her grit, stamina, and need to win were plain even to see, as the light failed. Even Twilight Sparkle stood tall, the expression on her face bore the oft-depicted “eye of the tiger” as she yearned for more stormball, and hungered still more than that for victory.

“Forehooves in,” Bicycle Kick ordered. Adjusting for altitude, all two dozen ponies crammed together enough that they brought their right forehooves together in the middle. The old coach concluded, “You’re gonna bring me my song. Win on three.”

And as loud as the night is dark, the team answered, “ONE, TWO, THREE, WIN!!”

Author's Note:

Whoo, two chapters! Hang onto your feels; they're coming. Real soon.
And with apologies to David Beckham, the relationship between his ponified self and the Wonderbolts is about to get, say...interesting.

'Til next time, take care all, and thanks for reading.

Comments

[DreadedCandiru2]

Well, this is interesting....they're so focused on one secret weapon that they've forgotten the other .