Practice
Atop a spent cumulonimbus sat Spitfire as the light of pre-dawn brightened the dips and dales of distant mountains spread across the eastern horizon. Steam from her coffee intermingled in her mane as the high-altitude winds scampered haphazardly. Her military fatigues did nothing to mask her orange fur. Taking a sip, her ears flicked up. She set the mug down in her lap, and said, “I don’t like it, old friend.”
Soarin’ sat next to her, similarly dressed and with his own mug filled with the same magic brown liquid of goodness and life. He took a gulp. “We’ve been watching, and we feel the same, Captain.”
“Spend any real amount of time with the old colt, and it’s hard not to see the change,” added Fleetfoot, lowering her hovering self to Spitfire’s left. The three sat as more light crept into the valleys. Spitfire’s eyes suggested the caffeine was slowly beginning to set in. Taking off her shades, Fleetfoot turned to her captain. “If I may, why are we out here?”
“A reminder,” answered Spitfire, taking a whiff of her steaming mug contentedly.
Soarin’ finished another sip before asking, “Reminder? Of What?”
Spitfire simply took another sip of her coffee, then lightly gestured to the east. Stronger hints of the sun came through. Fleetfoot produced a tall aluminum can with some bright green lettering on a black label from a coat pocket. Pulling the tab, a slight hiss was followed by her pressing the can’s opening to her lips and draining a portion of its contents. The sun continued its slow climb, greeting the three with a red, orange and blue splendor as its upper edges slithered between the valleys of the far-off highlands. Spitfire took a longer draught of her coffee as dawn pushed a new day into the world. Gesturing again, Spitfire explained as Soarin’ drank some more Joe, “This. A reminder of our First Duty. When was the last time we had to worry about actually performing that, excluding the recent impossible tasks?”
Snorting a chuckle, Soarin’ mused, “So, other than Tirek and Discord? I think I was still a Sub-Lieutenant. Commodore Zephyr was in command then.”
“Well, we can’t really count the Changlings Incident either, then. We were out on our assigned patrols when that hit,” Fleetfoot said, eyes wandering about wistfully.
“Nor can we count the Nightmare Moon Incident. It still boggles me, that standing order Her Majesty gave us in the flesh,” continued Soarin’, as he turned back towards his captain.
Spitfire nodded slowly. She took another sip, continuing to watch the sunrise. She set both her hooves on the mug and into her lap again as she answered, “Yeah. I think you’re right, Soain’. Foiling that attempt on Her Majesty's life got me promoted to Lt. Commander, thanks to you two blocking what’s-her-name’s escape routes. I think you guys were promoted to full Lieutenant for it as well.”
Fleetfoot grinned as she nodded. “And all of us received a Diamond Commendation, too. That was the first time the three of us worked as a squad. Dear me, how long ago was that?”
“Let me get back to you, once I’ve hit the books,” said Soarin’, rocking his head side to side slowly. The three sat there for a moment as the sun continued its climb. Soarin’ scratched the back of his head a moment. “Care to share what has you all serious?”
Spitfire glanced around a moment before carefully saying, “Reinaldo pulled me aside last night. Said he had a private chat with Buckham.”
Soarin’s expression switched from not fully awake to fully on-duty. He gave the captain a sideways look before examining his surroundings. “That’s not a good start to this subject.”
A slow moving shadow passed over the three. They looked up, then pressed their heads close together, covering their huddle with their wings. Some whispering stayed audible, but too hushed and muffled for anypony else to tell what was said. Spitfire’s wings were the first to fold back into a resting position, a few seconds before the other two relaxed theirs almost in unison. Both Soarin’ and Fleetfoot had wide eyes, but the rest of their faces were contorted between shock, anger, and confusion. Spitfire hissed, “Again, not a word of it outside the Wonderbolts.”
“Yes ma’am. Goes without saying,” said Fleetfoot as she shook her head, then took her beverage bottom-up. Spitfire sipped her coffee again as the top of the sun broke above the mountains properly. Soarin’ sighed deeply, and drank a bit more of his dark roast served black, his face looking more of in thought than in shock. Fleetfoot shook the empty can, crushed it between her forehooves, and turned to her captain. “He hasn’t actually committed a crime. Yet.”
“‘Yet’ being the operative word of that statement. Keep an ear open. And stay ready,” ordered Spitfire, holding her coffee close to her mouth but not drinking just yet.
Soarin’ said, “We’re always ready, ma’am. Every single one of us.”
“We thought you knew that,” teased Fleetfoot lightly, eliciting a small smile from Spitfire.
The captain drained her mug. She passed a pleased grin to her first and second officers. “Of course. Glad to know the Wonderbolts and Their Majesties will be in good hooves, come what may.”
The amphitheater in Twilight’s castle could easily seat 450 ponies, plus the six large thrones, and one smaller, in the back-center. Instead, all of twenty-five were present, one standing, the others in the first three rows. The lights were off, and dawn was not due for another hour at least; all illumination came from the projector screen showing the volunteer team led by Buckham playing against the Gallopston Gales, the only team to lose by just two goals during this tour. The Gales had a 2-4-4 formation, and could really move around the pitch. The two teams on the field were in a heavy struggle to get the ball past either side’s midfielders. Coffee aroma hung heavy in the air, with twenty-five steaming mugs by their respective ponies and two carafes on a side table.
Rainbow Dash sat to the left of Twilight Sparkle; to the princess’s right was Ms. Hooves. All three had a steaming mug, but in Dash’s lap was the bubble Ms. Hooves blew for her the day before, still holding on strong. Twilight tentatively took a sip of her coffee, and promptly stuck out a complaining tongue. Muffins shook her head with a snicker, then took a deep gulp from her mug. Rainbow Dash looked at the caffeine source doubtfully, giving Twilight and Muffins a sour face, before taking another sip, and forcing a pained, hard swallow. She stopped by the side table and grabbed two more sugar packets and another creamer. Ms. Hooves shook her head thoroughly amused. “Do you want some coffee with your cream and sugar?”
Dash scoffed, “I’m not used to being up so early, or needing this stuff. Cut me some slack.”
“I would, if you weren’t up to four creams, six sugars, and no sign of stopping,” snickered Muffins, before taking another sip.
Twilight yawned, frowned at the steaming mug, and choked down more of its dark brown fluid. “I’m used to tea. I know this stuff has more kick, but…blech.”
Bicycle Kick shouted, “There! That move Reinaldo made right there! Spike, rewind the tape fifteen seconds!”
The film kept rolling. Twenty-five faces expectantly turned towards the projection booth. A smattering of murmurs echoed for a few seconds. Dash face-hoofed, Muffins shook her head, and Twilight started shouting, “Spike? Spike!!”
Oh, you are in such trouble, Spike.
Still the footage continued as the ponies faced away, showing Spitfire delivering a corner kick, Buckham and Reinaldo boxing out a pair of the Gales defenders apiece, clearing the way for Soarin’ to head it hard into the net’s high corner on the same side as Spitfire. Twilight got up as the screen showed the euphoric Soarin’ pumping his hoof as the rest of his team carried him like a prince in a sedan chair. Bicycle Kick very quickly flew up to the projection booth, throwing the door open. A thwack echoed just after the coach went inside. Spike yelped, “Oww…!! What!? WHY!?”
Did he really just…?
From within the booth, Bicycle Kick’s voice roared, “You had ONE JOB, Spike!!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” answered Spike, not really sounding sorry.
“Why can’t you stay awake for longer than five minutes!?” demanded Bicycle Kick as rattling of metallic equipment sounded through the door. The footage on screen paused.
Angrily, the young dragon retorted, “The sun’s not up yet! Gimme a break!!”
A poorly intoned, but distinctively disgusted grunt sounded from the booth. Another sound of a blunt impact was accompanied by more of the coach shouting. “No, you give me that doll, you creepy little shit!”
That...is too far, coach.
“NO!! Wait...!! Waah...TWILIGHT...!!” wailed Spike.
Bicycle Kick came out of the booth holding a plush Rarity, quickly followed by a crying purple dragon. The coach wheeled about, keeping the doll out of Spike’s jumping and flailing reach, still shouting. “Rewind the tape two minutes! Stop when I tell you to stop the tape, rewind it when I say so, and maybe I’ll give this back to you after the game Saturday! Fuck up one more goddamn time between then and now, and the Carousel Boutique will be getting a very strange parcel with a very thorough explanation! Do you understand me, Spike!?”
Just because half the town already knows doesn’t make this okay. Twi and I should talk to him during intermission.
Sobbing, Spike nodded weakly. The old coach snapped, “Good!” and flew back down toward the others.
Twi, don’t…crap.
Twilight met him halfway, displeased look on her face, as Spike retreated to the booth with his head hanging. The coach regarded the princess with annoyance. “Something to add, Sparkle?”
So much for getting through to him while he isn’t pissed. You’re just going to make it worse....
Twilight’s eyes narrowed as she growled, “Do I need to remind you whose castle this is?”
Bicycle Kick snorted. He shook his head, then responded, “That’s the one job he volunteered for, and he promised he could do it without issue. This is the third time one of us has had to wake him up. And don’t you start about his age! He had the stakes thoroughly explained to him by both of us, and he was offered coffee with the rest of the team! If you have another suggestion for who can run film, I’m all ears! Until then, he needs to do the job he said he could, or own up for his failures. Just because this is your castle doesn’t mean he did what task he signed up for, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Twilight said unhappily.
Bicycle Kick savagely continued, “Nor does it change that you agreed to let me coach as I know how, does it?”
“No, sir,” replied Twilight through gritted teeth.
“I can’t hear you.”
“No sir!” shouted the princess.
Bicycle Kick gave her a cordial, yet passive-aggressive nod, as he commanded, “Then back to your seat, Sparkle! What we’re going over right now is important!”
That...went better than expected, but damn...I’ll check on the little guy before breakfast.
Both returned to where they sat in a huff. Muffins tapped Twilight on the shoulder. “I think that was the first time we’ve seen him actually mad.”
“At me?” asked Twilight, indignation permeating her countenance and tone.
“At all, but specifically at both of you, him for nodding off again, and you for trying to cover for him,” Ms. Hooves gently explained.
Dash sighed in disagreement. Utterly exasperated, Twilight hissed, “I didn’t cover for him!”
“Twilight...is it okay I publicly call you Twilight?” asked Muffins with hope.
The alicorn smirked a moment and nodded at the wall-eyed pegasus. “Please do.”
Ms. Hooves answered with cautious assertion. “Okay. Did he do his job, Twilight?”
“No, but—” began Twilight, a bit huffy.
The tape began to rewind, heavily distorting the quick, reversed images with some bent static moving around in two horizontal patches. Muffins waved a hoof as her interruption, before starting again as before, “Was it because he got an injury doing his job?”
“No, he—” Twilight tried again, a bit more annoyed, as the other stopped her like before.
“Look, that’s all a coach cares about. You do your job, or get out of the way so that somepony who can do the job will. The only permissible reason to not, is because you were injured, or got sick. To him, your trying to explain Spike’s sleepiness sounds like you’re covering for him, or making excuses. Boon or bane, it’s how coaches are,” explained Ms. Hooves, sounding of one who avoided trotting on others’ hooves.
Twilight sharply exhaled, then hissed, “It doesn’t change that he went too far with Spike. That was unnecessary.”
“And cruel,” Dash added.
Muffins evenly said, “I know, but it doesn’t change that it was the third time somepony had to wake him. He let you handle it twice, but Spike still fell asleep. I certainly won’t say he’s in the right for how he handled it, but clearly he thought you were given a fair chance and failed.”
“I have to prove myself to him constantly, don’t I?” scoffed Twilight.
Muffins nodded slowly. Rainbow balked indistinctly as Muffins said, “Welcome to world-class athletics. It’s that way with all of us.”
The film had stopped rewinding to the spot Bicycle Kick wanted. He motioned to the projector booth, and the film rolled forward. Spitfire had the ball, moving up quickly near the sideline. Soarin’ was on far side of the pitch, very nearly offsides, but also very close to the defender. Buckham was a bit ahead of Spitfire, likely within her part of the field, but also had the attention of two midfielders who were close enough to prevent a clear pass. A Gales midfielder was approaching Spitfire. Buckham started to climb a bit, moving forward at a reasonable pace. Suddenly, Reinaldo quickly darted forward between Spitfire and Buckham, dropping to just a few meters above the lower cloud layer. Coach motioned to pause the film, which Spike did, as one of the defenders on Buckham turned slightly.
Bicycle Kick turned to the team and said, “This, right here. Reinaldo plays Stopper; what’s he doing rushing forward past the front three?”
“He sees an opening! He played Striker professionally and went to score!” said a tenor answer from the second row.
And Buckham’s career was playing center midfield; what does that matter in these games?
An alto in the front replied, “No, Reggie! Do you see the right fullback? He’s still free; he could easily cover Reinaldo from there if he thinks the opposing Stopper is set to receive a pass, and steal it.”
Muffins elaborated, “Blossomforth’s right. He doesn’t see an opening; he’s pulling a feint. If you’re double-teaming a scoring forward at any time, and another one comes up, one of you needs to break off the double-team and cover the free pony! But Starlighter doesn’t know that her right fullback has the low hole filled! Most of the time a fullback stays at mid-level, climbing or dropping only if that’s where the attack is. But Spitfire’s already a bit under the middle; the fullback has already moved to compensate. Starlighter turns to look, and that creates an opening for Buckham to move forward!”
Starting off sounding pleased, Bicycle Kick said, “Precisely, as the tape is about to show. The point of a—hey! If you’ve something to say, share it, or shut up!”
All eyes turned to the left-most seat of the front row. There sat Puffy Cirrus, a sleek, pastel pink mare with a braided white mane and tail, and magenta eyes, with wispy clouds for a cutie mark. She said, “I was saying, it sounds like Ms. Hooves over there watched while the rest of us turned to see what was keeping Spike!”
“We will not start that shit! She is your teammate! Trusting your teammates is key to everything on the pitch!! You have to work as one!! If you can’t do that, Ms. Cirrus, you should go home now! And for your information, we all turned; I could see the backs of every one of your heads, including Ms. Hooves! No more gossip, no more snipping at each other, period!!” snapped Bicycle Kick, glaring at her.
“Yes sir!”
The coach resumed in calmer tones, “I was starting to say, the point of a feint is to force the opponent off-guard. If you don’t sell it, they will not be fooled. You are playing masters of the game; if you have any inkling they will not buy, do not try. It will not work, and we’ll have a gap in the formation. Spike, continue.”
The film rolled. The midfielder Ms. Hooves identified as Starlighter did start to go towards Reinaldo for less than a second, but the Stopper flared his wings out into a sudden stop. As this happened, Buckham swerved left, then up and in. Spitfire stalled and passed, Starlighter could do nothing from where she moved to, and Buckham pulled a bicycle kick to shoot. The goalie got a hoof on the ball, knocking it above the top of the goal and out of bounds. Spitfire flew towards the corner and Soarin’ came towards the middle as the refs took another stormball and set up for the corner kick. Spitfire wasted no time in delivering it, either. The team watched the header for a goal, and the subsequent celebration was cut off as Bicycle Kick flipped on the lights. “We’re out of time here. To the pitch, on the double.”
“Hurry up, Twi! We don’t have time to dawdle!” pressed Rainbow Dash.
Through a semi-full mouth, Twilight Sparkle answered, “Eating too fast causes indigestion!”
Dash bluntly said, “Practicing or playing on an empty tank wears out an athlete faster than constant wing sprints! You’re almost out of time! Chew, swallow! Chew, swallow!”
“You’re one of the last two! You gotta be quicker!” said Muffins, looking around the others.
Rainbow pursed her lips, then said, “Scratch that, you are the last one. Wind-Sailor just finished.”
With an irritated grunt, Twilight shoveled the remaining home fries and pancakes into her mouth, chewing as best as she could while her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.
Oh, what I’d do for a camera right now.
Muffins visibly bit her lips at the sight while snorting, and Rainbow Dash strained to shove down the guffaws pushing to leave her lips. Dawn broke as a snigger sounded from the next table. Twilight turned to see Thunderlane with a hoof to his mouth, snickering. Taking a hard swallow, the alicorn reduced her cheek pouches’ load as Cloudchaser began to chuckle. Her sister Flitter soon followed as Twilight swallowed another bit, then gulped down the last of it, taking a deep breath. Rainbow Dash’s laugh containment failed, making the bubble in her hooves vibrate, and soon everypony there had some giggling or more about it, except the princess, who simply hung her head. Dash started, “Oh, Twi, if only you could’ve seen your face!” and resumed laughing.
Twilight’s sarcasm was thick enough that AJ could buck fruit from it and grow a new tree. “Yes, I’m sure that’d make me feel sooo much better....”
“Enough!” barked Bicycle Kick. The laughter died as soon as the old coach spoke. “Why don’t I see any fires in bellies!? Why is everypony having a laugh at the expense of one of your own!? What became of being giant-killers!? We don’t have time for this shit! We have work to do! Focus!”
All the team yelled back, “Yes sir!”
Bicycle Kick looked around at his team. “That’s better, but still needs work! You’ll be working on moving the ball up the pitch, from goalkeepers to fullbacks, to wingbacks, to midfielders, to forwards, and a shot! Goalkeepers will attempt a save, and start the drill going the other direction! Once your part of the drill is complete, you will come off the pitch and get in line at the other end for your next turn! You will replace the previous group as they come off the pitch! Do the math, this does not divide evenly: every one of you will play a different position each pass through the drill! Anypony kicks a meteor, you will all have a full-pitch wing sprint! Anypony drops a stone, you’ll all have five! And this is cumulative for the rest of the day! You twelve to the north, you twelve to the south! North side starts with the ball! Go!”
“Yes sir!”
The team bolted from the buffet by the bleachers and out onto the pitch in seconds; Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Ms. Hooves all were part of the south group. They found themselves rushing out onto the pitch as the ball from the north side came fast, Puffy Cirrus in the goal, to Reggie Stormkicker, to Flitter, to Cloudchaser (who barely had turned in time and nearly dropped the ball), to Thunderlane. Ms. Hooves had hardly entered the goal box before the dark stallion took his shot, hard and strong, but from at least a quarter of the pitch away. Muffins didn’t even move at first; it was wide right and too low. Shaking her head clear as she put a hoof between her eyes, she flew back, dropped down, and caught the ball before it hit the lower cloud layer some ten meters behind the goal. She gave it a solid rugby-style punt that crested eight meters from being a meteor. Windy Clouds was well-outside the penalty box when she trapped the ball off her battle-scarred left side and belted it towards Twilight. The princess received the well-placed pass and sent it on to Lily Blossom, who delivered an inaccurate pass to Rainbow Dash. The speedy pegasus, though, easily recovered the errant kick, and started driving hard towards the goal, where Blossomforth was waiting. Knocking the ball forward, she wound up to take the shot, but noticed even as her leg was moving for the ball, Blossomforth had started to move in the goal box, and in the correct direction. The forceful strike sent the ball at the goal well-over 150 kilometers per hour, well-aimed at the lower far corner. Blossomforth, however, simply caught it, center of her chest, as if this was the sort of thing she did every day.
Whoa. I think we have our goalie.
As she, Ms. Hooves, and Twilight flew to their spot in line, Rainbow exclaimed, “I knew she’d know how to play, which coach being her grandpa and all, but wow! Color me impressed!”
Feathermay turned around to Dash, being one space in front of her in line, and said, “You didn’t know? She’s the starting goalkeeper at Pranceton University. This fall will be her senior year. She’s supposed to leave a week from tomorrow for training camp.”
Rainbow’s jaw dropped. She looked down the pitch, then back to the mare in front of her, sounding stunned. “Okay, time out! I knew she had athletic ability, and that her family’s loaded thanks to coach, but I didn’t know she was that good, or that smart! Pranceton’s a private school, isn’t it?”
“And a very good one, too. Not as good as Canterlot, but then again, who is?” Twilight said happily.
Feathermay blinked a number of times, took a breath, and gingerly replied, “If you insist, Your Highness, but yes.” Turning to Rainbow Dash, she became more blunt. “Maybe you should spend more time listening to everypony else instead of napping away your afternoons, or practicing tricks to impress the Wonderbolts?”
Irked, Dash countered, “Hey, I’m in the Reserves, you know!”
“Girls, we’re getting off-topic! Focus on stormball! Watch everypony else, and see what you can learn or help another learn!” hissed Muffins, pointing to the pitch.
The drill continued easily over two hours before Bicycle Kick allowed a ten-minute water break. He kept pressing the team harder and harder, demanding they execute the drill quicker than the last time those same ponies were on the pitch.
After the water break, Bicycle Kick ordered they line up so that they zigzagged, but would not ease off the demand for speed. Soon the meteors and stones started piling up. Before the water break, they were at seven wing sprints. Before 9am, they were pushing thirty. Far from helpful was that Cloud Kicker didn’t seem to have enough leg strength to get the ball to Ms. Hooves whenever neither of them were in the goal, but Muffins sure got the blame for it, particularly from Flitter and Cloudchaser. The only other one to get dinged a bunch was an overzealous draft stallion with a deep purple coat, silvery mane and tail, and electric blue eyes named Stormbringer. His problem, however, was kicking meteors, about which he did get better over time.
Grouching at Muffins had grown loud by 10am; she was clearly being more the part of the mailmare than the athlete by then, and had stopped trying to encourage Cloud Kicker or give her advice. The others hadn’t given up, Twilight especially so. With animated hooves, the princess said, “Time your approach, so that you can hit it at maximum speed towards Ms. Hooves! That should get it clear across the pitch!”
Twilight flew out as the previous drill from their end finished; it was her turn as a forward. Windy Clouds and Ms. Hooves left next, followed by Cloud Kicker, and Thundercracker in the goal. The drill came steadily the other way. Cloudchaser was the forward for her drill, but took the time to stop by Muffins and say, “If it isn’t too much trouble, actually get the ball this time. Close one eye if that helps. I’m really at a complete loss on how you made it this far.”
Ms. Hooves’ ears drooped as she looked down. The high-spirited shouting of practice, and a few thumps of a stormball kicked into motion. She turned, and watched Thundercracker dive completely the wrong way as Cloudchaser kicked a weak goal. The young stallion picked himself up, and passed the ball towards Cloud Kicker. The mare wound herself up, charged the ball, and laid into it as best as she could. It drifted along the correct lateral angle to reach Ms. Hooves…but it crested too soon, again. Muffins tore across the pitch to reach the sinking stormball before it dropped to a stone. She pushed herself, reaching deep within to find the strength to push through, in spite of having done hundreds of wing sprints already, and at risk of doing fifty-six more if she couldn’t get there in time. The lactic acid buildup made her latissimus dorsi and basal wing muscles yelp with every flap, pressing for the sinking ball. Crashing into the lower cloud layer, she knocked the ball up just before it hit with her forehooves.
A breath of relief escaped her. Pushing up, she reared up and mule-kicked the ball with both hind legs towards Windy Clouds. The combat vet turned and flew towards the other goal. Muffins faced the ball to realize, with a sinking feeling, she overdid it. She let out a single sob, shoulders dropping and shaking her head, at the sight. Ms. Hooves collapsed onto the lower cloud layer in rattling gasps as Windy Clouds flew, and stretched, and laid out…but not enough. The ball hit the lower cloud layer, just outside the penalty box. Muffins’ face fell into the lower clouds, quietly crying, as nearly all of the rest of the team groaned angrily.
Damn. So close, but then again, I don’t think anypony else here could’ve done better with controlling a pass that short.
Bicycle Kick blew his whistle. “Quit grouching and get to it!”
The team lined up at the end markers for tearing across the pitch to the far side as quickly as they could. Then turn around, and do it again. Fifty-five more times. Flitter and Cloudchaser intentionally lined up across from Ms. Hooves, but the wall-eyed mare could hear the complaints beginning as she took her place on the line, unable to place any of the voices with a given pony.
“Why did Bicycle Kick allow an idiot on the team?”
“Oh my Celesita, she’s dumb.”
“Just plain stupid.”
“What a stupid mare.”
“How did we get stuck with somepony so damn stupid, anyway?”
“She’s stupid.”
“…so stupid…”
“…how stupid can…”
“…stupid mare…”
“…stupid idiot…”
“…stupid pretender…”
“…incredibly stupid…”
“…stupid…”
“…stupid…”
She winced every single time somepony said the word. A terrible word, put to a terrible use. A strong, degrading word, first meant to refer to somepony who was incapable of learning. A word pointed at her over, and over, and over, in times past and in the here and now. Tears were already flowing. “Scathed” would not described how deep that word has hurt the gray mare. “Traumatized” gets closer, but even that might not be enough. She never fantasized that she was a genius. She knew she was no Twilight Sparkle, or Smart Cookie, or Starswirl the Bearded, but that word? It wasn’t true; she certainly could learn and definitely had ability...but they still called her that time and time again.
Covering her ears with her hooves, she missed the order to start the wing sprints. She caught up with the others, but could not keep her ears covered as the twins said “stupid” to her, every single pass, nothing else attached...just the one, hated, hurtful word. Every pass, both of them. They spaced themselves just enough that she’d get the double whammy without fail. Fifty-six times apiece they struck at the already-hurt mare’s weakest spot vocally. Muffins was the last to finish the wing sprints, slowed considerably by her heavy crying.
Oh my Celesita...Derpy, what did they say to you?
“Go get some water. Muffins, come with me,” said Bicycle Kick, sounding more of a concerned parent than a coach expecting professional results. He lead the blubbering mare away and out of earshot. The rest of the team watched on as the choked-up mare spoke to the coach, who nodded with empathy.
Did it suddenly get warmer?
“Who did it?” asked a livid, low-register soprano voice from behind the team.
Wait, that could only mean....
Rainbow Dash turned and shrieked in alarm. The others followed suit. At the back was the princess, mane and tail ablaze and eyes turned red. Occasionally parts of her lavender coat flickered into fire before returning to normal. Sparks glistened off her horn. Nopony spoke. Nopony blinked, except the princess. Nearly everypony quivered, standing on the lower cloud layer. Twilight’s wings were out and motionless, yet she slowly floated toward the team, who started backing up. “Who said what to tear her asunder!? Who’s responsible!?”
...this is bad! Real bad!!
Still nopony spoke. The cloud took a yellow tinge somewhere near the middle of the pack. Twilight continued, “Nopony, huh?! That doesn’t just happen on its own! Step forward or forever remain a coward!”
Twi, you could kill somepony like this! You have to calm down!
Still nopony moved. Bicycle Kick returned with a wet spot on his shoulder, and Ms. Hooves, cheeks drenched, in tow. “I have it from here, Sparkle.”
Thank you, coach.
Some on the team shrank some more. The flaming princess began to burn out, and the fire on her long hairs died, leaving them as they were while the red eyes faded. The coach’s lower jaw shook in rage as he glared around the team, mainly on those who cowered under his gaze. He barked, “What the fuck is the matter with you ponies!? Sabotaging one of your own!?! Over what!!? Trying harder than the rest of you!!?”
Yes! Get ‘em!
The lower cloud layer received another yellow discoloration. The coach paused a moment, then continued in quieter tones, “I have no tolerance for bullying. Everypony here knows better than that! I don’t care how mad or frustrated you get with one of your teammates; you are still a team! If you cannot treat each other with basic respect, we will get by without you!”
‘No tolerance for bullying?’ With what you did to Spike?
Many ponies nodded guiltily. Bicycle Kick pointed at the twins, and resumed barking. “And you two! If you want any part of this team, you will make it up to her! And you will fly laps, as fast as you can, until I say for you to stop! I don’t care if you’re hungry, thirsty, or need the little fillies’ room! Get to it!”
Those two again? For real?
Flitter and Cloudchaser took off, circumnavigating the pitch. Gentler, with a touch of sadness, Bicycle Kick commanded, “Start cool down stretches and exercises. You ponies have done a lot of flying, and we have plenty of things to go over.”
Lunch was served back in the amphitheater. Another high-calorie, high-protein meal, but Twilight did not have trouble finishing on time this time. Bicycle Kick stood behind a dry-erase board of some kind at the front, writing something. Just after the last tray was turned in, he stepped away, his task complete, to face his team. “Take your seats! We are going over film of their game against the Prench National Team! Spike, roll film.”
The lights dimmed. Muffins was unfocused, still seeming the mailmare again. Dash tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey.”
Miserably, the mailmare answered, “Hey.”
“Don’t let them get you down,” said Rainbow compassionately, sadness in her eyes.
Biting back a tear, Muffins murmured, “You don’t know how bad it hurts, Rainbow Dash. You just don’t know how awful it feels.”
“You were scrambling crazy distances with nopony to assist you or call it instead, and a totally unfair punishment waiting if you couldn’t get there in time," protested Dash, sweeping her hooves widely. "You can’t blame yourself for being asked to do what couldn’t be done. I couldn’t’ve made it there and controlled half of the passes you got to Windy Clouds. I think you’d have to teleport to get that ball under control and then pass it well.”
“Doesn’t make it any less painful, being called that over and over. So many times they called me that all my life, especially when I messed up. The pitch was the one place where I didn’t have it pointed at me. Until today,” lamented Ms. Hooves, hanging her head.
“It’s still totally unfair. You’re awesome at stormball!” remonstrated Dash.
With a weak smile, Muffins said, “Thanks, Rainbow Dash. I really mean it.”
Dash side-hugged Ms. Hooves, who gladly returned it. Stealthily watching, Twilight smiled to herself at the sight. Muffins sighed unhappily. Rainbow frowned, and asked, “Last night you were so pumped. Twilight’s right: it’s like you’re a different pony out there.”
Ms. Hooves said, “That’s the real me you saw on the pitch last night. It doesn’t come out much. The shrink says this clumsy persona I keep falling into is a ‘defense mechanism,’ something to keep from feeling bad all the time. I don’t really know what she means; I’ve only been to see her twice and only because Doc insisted it’d be best for me. Please don’t let this get spread around.”
Of course, Derpy. Wouldn’t dream of it.
Rainbow carefully checked to see if the rest of the team still had their eyes locked on the film, before reciting and acting out, albeit on a very subdued scale, the promise-keeper’s truest promise. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Muffins giggled at Dash’s cunningly concealed pantomime. Rainbow, with a bit of pink in her cheeks, chuckled some and shook her head. “I feel ridiculous doing that.”
Ms. Hooves patted Dash on the shoulder. The film rolled, showing Buckham and company’s six goals to nil drubbing of Prance. Bicycle Kick had the reel paused occasionally for demonstrating breakdowns in the Prench team’s 3-3-4 set, brilliant misdirection during a throw-in, and other worthy tidbits. After including stoppage time and the coach’s discussions, the session lasted just short of two hours. The lights flipped on, and the team stood up, waiting for their coach’s next direction. Bicycle Kick did not keep them waiting. “We are doing two mock games before supper! I am watching how you handle different formations and different teammates on the field, and we will go from there! For the first game, you’ll be a 3-2-3-2 versus a 4-3-3!”
The coach flipped over the board he used earlier. The diagram of a pitch told their positions, and Bicycle Kick promptly began reading off both sides’ rosters. “Team A! Goalkeeper, Feathermay! Sweeper, Twilight Sparkle! Left Fullback, Cloud Kicker! Right Fullback, Sugar Grapes! Left Wingback, Stormbringer! Right Wingback, Wind-Sailor! Center Midfield, Lily Blossom! Left Midfield, Reginald Stormkicker! Right Midfield, Flitterheart! Center Striker, Petal Breeze! Forward Striker, Rainbow Dash!”
At least he didn’t put both Flitter and Flitterheart on the same side; it’s confusing enough having both of them in the same place.
A smattering of murmurs came from the team. The other half of the team looked to the coach, chomping at the bit to hear their names. Bicycle Kick resumed reading the roster. “Team B! Goalkeeper, Blossomforth! Outer-Left Fullback, Windy Clouds! Inner-Left Fullback, Thundercracker! Inner-Right Fullback, Sunny Rays! Outer-Right Fullback, Banana Bliss! Center Midfield, Puffy Cirrus! Left Midfield, Cloudchaser! Right Midfield, Flitter! Left Forward, Sassaflash! Right Forward, Muffins Hooves! Striker, Thunderlane!”
More low talking echoed in the room. Twilight stopped Bicycle Kick. “Coach, I have a question!”
Stifling a grin, the coach said, “Go ahead, Sparkle!”
Twilight stood open-mouthed, looked at the diagram, pointed at in, and turned back to her coach. “With how well I’ve handled the ball, and the first to finish the first drill yesterday, I don’t understand why I’m not on offense. Would you help me understand?”
A knowing expression lit up Bicycle Kick as he resumed his usual coaching volume. “You wanna know why I’m not having you shooting goals, am I right, Sparkle?”
“Yes sir!”
“Let me tell you all something we coaches like to say! ‘Good offense sells tickets, but good defense wins games!’ You’ll find coaches of every sport say this! We say it ‘cuz we’ve seen it over and over: keep the opponent out indefinitely, and your offense needs only one!” expounded Bicycle Kick. “But if you’re focused on goal-scoring all the time, and not your defense, the game’s a shoot-out every single time, and they need disrupt only one more attack than you to win! And even a so-so defense can disrupt a good offense every once in awhile! What happens when this same team meets a stout defense? What about a strong one?”
The dawning moment of comprehension passed over Twilight’s face. The stallion turned to the rest of the team briefly before resuming talking to Twilight. “Defense wins games! That’s why you’re on defense! Your teleporting is priceless when it comes to the protection of your goal! Do you understand now, Sparkle?”
“Yes sir!” replied Twilight, looking satisfied with herself.
Bicycle Kick fully resumed his fire and zeal. “Good! Everypony to the pitch!”
Spike sat on a stool beside the pitch, manning a scoreboard that had not been needed yet. To his left stood a time clock, including a counter for stoppage time; to his right, the bubble Ms. Hooves gave Dash yesterday. Cloudchaser was about to throw-in the ball. Rainbow had Thunderlane covered very closely and rendered ineffective. Sassaflash made a break back towards her midfielder, and received the throw as Wind-Sailor could not keep up with her. But Wind-Sailor soon caught Sassaflash before she could make any real forward momentum, causing another stalemate. Younger pegasi on the pitch drifted from their positions to help. A tangle of hooves and thumping of the blindingly yellow ball, then out it came from the scrum.
Lily Blossom, who stayed at her post, easily recovered the loose ball and turned the ball up the pitch as Rainbow Dash broke off Thunderlane and headed back to the front. Team B’s center midfielder, Ms. Puffy Cirrus, was drawn to the bunch, and could not prevent a pass to the petite but deft Petal Breeze. She shifted slightly to the left side of her field as she advanced, Rainbow Dash barely keeping from being offsides. Two fullbacks advanced on her from in front, and Flitter from behind, Petal Breeze sent a hard pass towards Rainbow Dash, enough forward she would have to time her break on the ball to prevent the ever-annoying offsides penalty, and immediately take a shot. But Thundercracker moved forward, away from his goal, forcing Dash to follow and prevent the ref from pointing the flag towards her.
Now!
Dash zipped up, twisted her body, and belted the ball with both of her front hooves...only to find Blossomforth predicted her shot...again: twenty-four minutes into the mock game and Blossomforth was, including the long-distance passing drill that morning, nine-for-nine at catching Dash’s shots, not just knocking them away or getting a hoof on the ball, catching them. The talcum-coated mare gave Dash a disappointed look, as if to say this was too easy.
And this is why she starts on an elite collegiate varsity team.
Blossomforth threw the ball to Banana Bliss, who quickly passed it to Flitter. Reggie quickly came up, disrupting her path. Flitter needed to pass, and soon: if this turned to a scrum, the younger, stronger Mr. Stormkicker would eventually emerge with the ball, and even if she resisted for longer, she was well-within Petal Breeze’s zone of the field, who would soon be by to assist her teammate. Flitter's options were few: Lily Blossom had Ms. Cirrus covered, her twin sister Cloudchaser was on the far side of the pitch, and Ms. Hooves was on the other side of Reggie. Rainbow Dash was rushing to cover Thunderlane, who made a double-move on Stormbringer and came free, even if for only a few seconds. Just getting the pass off in time, Flitter kicked the ball to Thunderlane, who promptly sent the ball to Ms. Hooves. She took off full-speed toward the goal.
Cloud Kicker adjusted to interrupt her path. Muffins bore an undaunted grin as she blazed onward, knocking the ball just up enough to go over Cloud Kicker’s reach as she veered inside the defender. The other fullback, Sugar Grapes, would not get there in time, leaving just Twilight and Feathermay between her and a goal. The princess felt a confident grin curl over her lips, seeing the drive from her friend, the “fire in the belly” as coach liked to call it. Keeping a teleport spell on standby, the princess angled her approach to circumvent Muffins from approaching the goal on the close side. Suddenly, Muffins dipped down, altering the approach to be a shot from below. Twilight reversed as the gray mare knocked the ball forward with her forehooves and wound up with her rear-left, and sent a shot. In a flash of purple, Twilight appeared in the lower-right corner of the goal, in line with the bend...which didn’t come: the shot was straight! Feathermay dove and barely got a hoof on it, knocking the shot under the goal. A watching ref blew her whistle and pointed to the corner on the far side from Muffins’ position, then took the ball there.
Sassaflash hurried to send the corner kick as ponies from both sides of the scrimmage rushed to the penalty box. Several different pairs of wings flapped against each other as Sassaflash held a hoof aloft, then smashed her rear right hoof into the stormball. The ball arced and bent slightly toward the goal, passing toward the middle of the penalty box. Muffins flapped up and went for the header, but wasn’t alone. An oddly-shaped flash of white washed part of the left side of her vision, along with a dull clunking noise and the sharp, localized pain of two heads crashing together. She yelped as a flash of magenta in front of her was the last thing she saw before she clenched her eyes closed from the throbbing beneath her left ear and eye. Yowling burst from the owner of the other involved head.
Ooh...I heard that back here.
“Ahhh…!! My eye!!” howled Wind-Sailor, cradling the right side of his face.
Ms. Hooves opened her own eyes to see, with great relief, no blood. Wind-Sailor lowered his hooves for a moment, rapidly blinking. His right eye was terribly bloodshot and watering like crazy as his lower lip quaked. The stallion inhaled a hiss. Muffins sputtered on the edge of panic, “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Oh my Celestia, I didn’t mean to get you!”
Wind-Sailor gasped, “I know, I’ll be okay. I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”
Putting both forehooves on his shoulders, her face and voice both uneasily pleaded, “Are you sure? I just feel awful about that hit!”
After a few pained blinks, the stallion answered, “Muffins, I’ll be fine. These things happen during the game. Don’t worry yourself.”
The medics arrived, checking Wind-Sailor. His vision seemed okay, but the medics insisted on giving him a few minutes respite, and refused his refusal to sit down for a few. The team looked for the ball, and pieced together what occurred: both Ms. Hooves and Wind-Sailor went to head the ball, but the princess teleported along the trajectory of the corner kick and sent the ball down the pitch, where Flitterheart had it and not much between her and her Strikers. Coach waved out Ms. Cirrus to balance out a lack of a wingback with a lack of midfielder as play resumed.
Flitterheart passed it to Petal Breeze, who took the ball up the pitch. Dash veered around Sunny Rays, confusing the fullback. Windy Clouds and Thundercracker closed in. Petal Breeze passed the ball as Dash broke off from boxing out the defender. Winding up her right back leg, she started to kick at the ball, but knocked it to her right with her forehoof. Petal Breeze was already inbound towards the ball at full speed as Blossomforth arrested her momentum. The smaller mare took a hard shot toward the upper, away corner, just to be foiled by the Pranceton goalie as well, this shot also caught.
Really!? Like, really-really?! How does she do that?!
Rainbow Dash groaned loudly, spinning around in frustration. She turned to Blossomforth and said, “I’m totally cool with having an awesome goalie like you on the team, but you’re making practicing against you so aggravating!”
Patting Dash on top of her head, Blossomforth answered, “Just doing my job.”
The mock game continued. A few ponies got careless and kicked a meteor, then were swiftly reminded that Bicycle Kick did tell them from the beginning the wing sprint total would not just disappear after lunch. Not long after that, Ms. Hooves got shoved while trying to control a pass, which let a stone drop. Nopony was pleased, but one young Mr. Stormbringer did his best to play innocent. Sixty-three wing sprints later, Muffins heard the grumbling directed at her again, just as brazen, just as mean-spirited, but skirting around one particular word. While this did not leave her in heaving sobs, the wall-eyed pegasus was not in a good space after hearing the remarks or seeing the ears flattened at her. The mailmare returned as the athlete was lost to her inner turmoil and self-ridicule. Her shots became worse. Between the wing sprints, the injury, and all the out-of-bounds balls, they had twenty minutes of stoppage time. Anypony who came by to watch, whether from the same aerial level or the ground, quickly gathered how much Bicycle Kick wore them out. The end of stoppage time was met with nearly everypony collapsing on the lower cloud layer, gulping down air as fast as they could. Bicycle Kick had seen the illegal push, much to Stormbringer’s chagrin, and had him do another sixty-three wing sprints for causing the others the pain.
Rainbow Dash found Ms. Hooves during halftime. “Hey Muffins.”
Ms. Hooves wheezed, “Hey Dash. I haven’t been this out of breath in a long time. Never thought I’d miss having conditioning practice.”
Dash gave understanding laugh. “Yeah, me too.”
Muffins, though, gawked at her incredulously. “What are you talking about? You’re always flying all over the place, Dash! And those aerial stunts you like to practice! You should be in great shape!”
“Great shape, yeah, but professional athlete kind of great shape? I doubt that. If I had to guess, only Blossomforth comes close,” answered Dash flatly.
“True, but I get the feeling you didn’t come here to talk about feeling winded,” said Muffins in the tone of calling out somepony else.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. Directly, but with care in her voice, she said, “No. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ve had worse bumps on the head than that.”
Dash shook her head again, this time doing the same with her forehooves. She said, “I’m not talking about when you both went for the header. I heard them grouching about you again, even though that stone wasn’t your fault. Even coach saw that.”
Sighing, Ms. Hooves sadly said, “None of that takes away their words, nor does them apologizing.”
“You have to learn how to deal with it. Either let it roll off your back or use it for motivation, like we do when coach gets on us!” said Rainbow, putting a hoof on Ms. Hooves’ shoulder.
Muffins looked down, saying nothing. Dash rubbed her friend’s shoulder with the hoof already there. Quietly, the wall-eyed pegasus admitted, “The difference between theirs and coach’s nasty words is that I know coach doesn’t mean those things, but they do. I know you’re giving me a good idea. The incessant cruelty in school started with my eyes, and then moved on to that I never did well at most subjects and almost every report card, I struggled to get a D in history. I’m just no good at memorizing, but everypony else in my class seemed to have no problem with it. I was able to let it ‘roll off my back’ for awhile, but I couldn’t keep their words out forever.”
Oh my gosh, Derpy, you’re gonna make me cry.
Dash looked crushed at this revelation. She looked her friend in the face and said, “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, and that they did that to you. But you have to be tougher than their words.”
“Even a mountain of the toughest stone will be reduced to gravel if they pick at it enough,” said Ms. Hooves with a grimace.
I really shouldn’t be calling her “Derpy” in my own thoughts, if she’s not ready for me to call her that aloud. I don’t want to say something that’d upset her; she’s been through too much as it is.
Bicycle Kick shouted over the others, “Last call for water before we begin the second half!”
“We’d better get some hydration. Cramps and charlie-horses suck,” said Muffins matter-of-factly.
Dash nodded. “They totally do.”
Team B got the ball to start the second half. Thunderlane sent the ball back to Ms. Cirrus, who started forward. Suddenly, Muffins ducked inside of Petal Breeze and pressed forward. Puffy returned the ball to Thunderlane. The smaller mare knocked the ball above the midfielder and crossed her to his right. Ms. Hooves was advancing on the fullbacks as Thunderlane passed between the wingbacks. Muffins stayed with Twilight, a hoof on the princess to keep tabs on the Sweeper. Cloud Kicker and Sugar Grapes closed in on the opposing Striker, and Rainbow Dash from behind. Muffins motioned upwards with her free hoof, and Thunderlane complied with his pass. Twilight, unable to safely teleport with Ms. Hooves still in contact, started rising for the ball. Then the wall-eyed mare pushed off and zipped up in some wild whirling of her hooves and wings. Twilight gasped, “Ms. Hooves, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Excited, the gray pegasus answered, “Yeah! Check this out!”
Oh?
“Wha...??” was all the baffled princess could manage right then.
Twisting as she rose, Ms. Hooves whipped her hind legs around, connecting with the ball. The shot came mostly downward, and then it started to bend. Then again. And again. Her shot spiraled! Everypony on the pitch, even the coach, gasped. But it was descending too sharply; she didn’t get it enough toward the goal. Twilight was taking too long to calculate its trajectory as it sunk. On one arc, the ball swerved very, very close to the edge of the goal, close enough that members of both groups asked among themselves if it broke the plane of the net, just above the goal’s bottom. The spiral did not pass that close again as it smacked against the lower cloud layer. Everypony stood agape, except Ms. Hooves, who simply hung her head. Several flew down, examining the outer, lower edge of the goal, and attempting to trace the ball’s path with their hooves. Bicycle Kick broke the silence. “Feathermay, did that shot break the plane of the net?”
The goalie looked down at the goal, then the ball, then back to the goal, and hesitantly replied, “I...I don’t think it quite did.”
Bicycle Kick grumpily yelled, “Then you ponies know what to do! Sixty-eight, let’s go!”
Profanity intermixed with the grouching this time, much louder than usual. Few ears hadn’t flattened on the team. Ms. Hooves shrank as Rainbow Dash flew up to her, grumbling, “That came too close to call. I think that shot was genius.”
“Success is the thin line that separates genius from madness, Dash,” said Muffins, face and voice laden with disappointment.
Dash patted her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Eh, don’t be stupid and call yourself mad. You’re just rusty, but with—”
Dash stopped midsentence, seeing the horrified, pained look on Ms. Hooves’ face, tears forming in her eyes. Barely audible, she uttered, “What...??”
…shit. How could you’ve let that slip? You know she’s hypersensitive about that word!
Dash’s eyes widened at the sudden realization. She quickly pleaded, “No, I never meant that word, and never would; I was just—”
Tears were flowing freely from Muffins’ eyes. “How could you say that about me!?”
Oh no. No, no, no. That was the worst thing I could’ve said. I can’t stand hurting other ponies! Please let me take it back!
Dash felt tears beginning to well up in her own eyes, begging the other mare, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking before I spoke, and—”
Through a heaving sob, Muffins shouted, “I thought you were my friend!!”
Oh, Celestia, no. You’re my friend; I never meant for that to come out! Please...!
Choking up, Rainbow started, “Muffins, I—”
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” screamed Ms. Hooves as she flew off at a blazing speed, her crying nearly in howls. Rainbow Dash felt her shoulders slump as a tear rolled from her eye and fell from her cheek. She looked around, seeing and feeling the uneasy stares from everypony else on the team. Turning towards her coach, she found Bicycle Kick looked halfway between worried and ready to rip her a new one. Spike also looked a bit deflated. The bubble sitting there, the one Ms. Hooves gave Dash, just then popped.
You really stuck your hoof in it this time, Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow sunk to the lower cloud layer, shoulders drawn, eyes down, face down, ears down, tail tucked. Her chest lurched, and she began to look a little green around the gills. Bicycle Kick tapped her on the shoulder. Instead of angry yelling, his voice was disappointed, the kind just above a whisper that most kids break down and cry when they hear it from their parents. “You don’t look okay, Dash.”
Even Dash’s voice was wracked with guilt. “No sir. I’m not.”
I didn’t deserve the Element of Loyalty. No way, if I could say that to my friend.
Bicycle Kick shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes of Rainbow. He continued in the same tone of voice, “Take the rest of the day off. Get yourself better and be back at the same time tomorrow morning. I can’t lose both of you.”
Sounding more like she was trying to convince herself more than him, she started, “Sir, I’ll be back to—”
“Might not want to mistake it for a suggestion,” interrupted the elderly coach, firmer than before.
“Yes sir,” weakly answered Dash, her stomach and chest lurching again.
“And think about what you said, and what that did to her.” Dash looked up at Bicycle Kick. His face was exactly as his voice sounded, just more so. Unblinking, with no hint of joy, of pity, or of forgiveness, his tone hardened again.
“Get yourself gone.”
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I know you're hungry, Dashie....but all FOUR hooves?!?!
Smooth one, Dash. Reeeeeal smooth.
I just hope that you can make it up to her in time.
And that you haven't lost her as a friend permanently.
I just hope that that bubble bursting when it did wasn't some sort of omen.
6297939 Yep, she sure must've been.
But then again, sometimes she doesn't exactly think things through before she says things.
6298040 My guess is that her brain has but the one instruction: "W+M1"
6298037 Probably. Most of this will have to be all about Dash realizing that there's no rewind function on her big, fat mouth.
6298054 I'm thinking the same thing.
6298060 Yep.
And true dat.
Honestly, I love Rainbow to death, but there's times that she's more scatterbrained than me on a bad day!
I don't like Bicycle Kick coming down on Spike and the constantly referring to Muffins as Ms. Hooves is just weird.
You don't want to put to much drama in this though, before the big game. After all this is supposed to be a friendly game played by a volunteer team. If Muffins is out because of feeling insulted and Dash is out because she's down on herself, then Twilight would probably feel the game was more trouble than it was worth.
At which point what's the point of a Ponyville team even playing?
6298623 Believe me, the whole "you didn't do what I say, therefore I have the exclusive right to beat you up, call you bad names, steal your stuff and generally treat you like dirt" thing didn't sit too well with me, either, especially when Twilight, Spike's oldest and closest friend, did virtually nothing to help the bullied child and let the old man talk smack to her face in her own house.
(Sorry if that seemed a bit ranty . . .)
But this game will be far from friendly. Even I'm not entirely sure why or how, but this is not going to be just a game. There's a reason for the drama (even if there is none for the Spike abuse). You'll have to keep reading and pay close attention to know for sure. I'm sure, though, that you won't be disappointed.
6299695 while understand there's issues behind the game what I mean by friendly is there's nothing riding on it, it's not professional, there's no reason it has to happen
6299695
6299807
Most definitely there is reason for the game to happen, at least, for one pony in particular. And no, it's not gonna be friendly, again, at least from the one.
Also, I wrote Bicycle Kick with the intention for him to not be liked, maybe respected by the time this is all said and done, but definitely not liked. There's a reason the Rarity plush set him off as badly as it did.
6300079 and yet there's no consequences if the game is called, is my point