Part One: Welcome to the Altador Cup

Sakhmet, the Lost Desert, in the Month of Swimming, Y8

I never thought I'd be a champion.

I lived in the Lost Desert city of Sakhmet my whole life—but I never left it once. I had never placed my foot outside the city, into the scorching desert sands my nation was so incredibly famous for. It didn't work that way. As a result, I knew nothing about the world beyond Skahmet. I didn't know about the other lands, what they were like, or the people who lived in them. I was completely innocent of experience.

I wasn't exactly champion material, but I wasn't quite a loser. I was average, if not a bit wimpy, for a Draik. I was scrawny, and not very tall, with thin arms. I wasn't the strongest or fastest, but I was strong enough and fast enough. I could protect myself well enough—I had wings, claws, and teeth, and scales. However, I was less likely to beat up than be beaten up.

I'm a nice guy. Maybe 'too nice' for my own good. People warned me that someday, out there in that big ol' world of Neopia, people would take advantage of me, and just stomp all over me before I even had a chance to fight back.

They were right—to a degree. Just because I was a pushover didn't mean I couldn't get angry. I could look at someone with a neutral face while actually thinking up twenty different ways to separate his head from his body. But I couldn't come up with good insults, hold grudges for long, or bring myself to take my revenge.

I wasn't a winner. I lacked the will to become a champion.

That's why everyone was so surprised when I started playing Yooyuball.

I never got interested until I heard about the tournament in Altador. I was eighteen years old. It was Y8, and the Altador Cup had just been announced. I went to a local playing court with a few other pets just to try. Five games later, I was hooked. I ran, I tackled, I passed, I shot—

And missed. Scoring wasn't my strength. Still, I had a new hobby that I was good at.

I didn't have a lot of NP, but I had the essentials—a roof over my head, a bed, table, a bathroom that worked, and small kitchen. My only contact with the world beyond my hometown was through a small television set, and a transistor radio. I used these outlets to follow the events of the Altador Cup.

I wasn't a professional—Yooyuball was a hobby and interest. I worked at a bookstore, binding books and sometimes pricing them. The pay was enough for me to buy food, pay taxes, and keep my house off the market. I wasn't exactly the best employee ever. Usually I'd mess up in the binding in some way or another. I bent covers, ripped pages, or glued them in crookedly. This made them lower in price, which wasn't good for business. I wasn't good for business.

During one of my workdays, I was folding and binding the paper into books while listening to live news from the Altador Cup on the radio. One of the other employees, Shoras, a desert Lupe, was working next to me. I listened as the two newscasters commented on the beginning of the game.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, the second round has begun, and today, we have the Haunted Woods vs. Krawk Island, and the Darigan Citadel vs. Roo Island, and, my god, is that competition going! The crowd is going wild! I must say, the Altador Cup has become very popular here, and the fans are showing it. Well, the matches are about to start, and I must say, it certainly is exciting! What do you think, Bob?"

"Oh, definitely, Stan. I've gotta tell you, these'll be matches that nobody will forget. My guess is that these wins will be incredibly close, but from what I can see, nobody's about to go down without a good fight."

"The tournament sure is exciting, huh?" I said to Shoras.

"Ha. The Lost Desert got knocked out, thanks to that stupid island where they just bounce and throw dice all day."

What a cheerful guy he was. "I'm sure Roo Island is a nice place," I said.

"You've never been there, Luvea. You've only heard stories. Besides," he continued, not looking at me as he worked, "nobody paid any attention to our team, anyway. That trophy's just gonna end up in the hands of our sadistic neighbors."

By 'our sadistic neighbors', he meant the Haunted Woods. I didn't know a lot about the Woods, except that it was a creepy place where Halloween never ended. Or so I heard.

"It's still exciting," I said.

"It's only exciting to you because you actually play Yooyuball. Watch that book!"

Too late. I ripped a page.

Shoras growled, snatched the book away, and shoved an empty binder in my hands. "Here. Do this one. Could you be any more incompetent?"

I could've stuffed the new binder in his mouth. But I didn't. I began binding in new sheets. "Well, I think Krawk Island and Roo Island have done really well. I mean, Roo Island, who knew? And the Darigan Citadel has done really well. I saw them playing on Neovision last night, and they were good."

"The Darigan Citadel's left forward doesn't even have legs. Watch the book!"

"Okay, okay," I snapped. "They're still good, though. Better than I could be."

"It's embarrassing when your team doesn't make it to the finals. They're wasting their time. What's the point of entering a competition if you don't win it?"

The page ripped in my hands.

Shoras whirled on me. "Damn it, are you completely useless? Give me that!"

I thrust it into his paws. I took a new binder and began again.

What was his problem? There was a reason why these teams all entered this competition, and I was pretty sure it wasn't just about winning a trophy. I wondered what it was like to be in the tournament. I imagined the roar of the crowd, the glaring lights, and players rushing across the field, clutching Yooyus in their slings. I played Yooyuball, and despite my inexperience, I knew what it was like to rush across a playing court in the heat of the moment.

But imagine being in a championship! I nearly ripped a third page.

Nearly. But not quite.

A few nights later, I watched the final match on my TV. I had to adjust the Cybunny ears and give it a good punch to make it work. I could make out the different players, and their coloured jerseys helped me differentiate the teams. The players entered the field—five on each side—lined up, faced each other, and got into their positions. A gong sounded, and a speck appeared in the middle of the field—the Yooyu. The players got into action.

"And so, ladies and gentlemen, here we have the final match between the Darigan Citadel and the Haunted Woods, and, I have to tell you, the Woods, with their phenomenal three-defender assault, have so far hindered all the Citadel's star forward Layton Vickles' attempts to make a single goal!"

"Oh, but you've gotta give it to the Citadel—they are trying hard, and—oh? What's this? Tandrak Shaye has managed to catch Fanetti's sloppy pass to Chelo Binay—he's running…oh, that was close…he shoots—He SCORES! My god! What a turn of events! Perhaps the Citadel's got a few more runs, after all! What do you think?"

"Maybe so, maybe so, but this match is now 0-1, and, I can tell you, the tension is spiking up now more than ever! It looks like one of these teams is going to have to step up! So far, it looks as though the Woods is getting right back on course here, as Zo Junior once again has the ball—he's making a run for it…oh, and Layton Vickles manages to tackle him! Oh, look at him go!"

"Oh, I bet everyone can just feel the tension—what? Oh, my god! Krell Vitor is chasing Vickles down—he's cornered him! Ooh, this can't be pretty—OH! He's forced Vickles to fumble! Vitor passes—and Zo Junior has the ball! Look how fast he's going! He's running towards the Citadel's goal—he's gotten past Tormo "The Terror" Frein—he aims, and…GOAL! Oh, what a shot! Now that's what I call a clutch performance!"

"Oh, boy! Now with the game tied 1-1, everybody's feeling the heat! With only thirty seconds on the clock, somebody's gonna have to break the tie! Okay, here we go…Wan Dirx has the ball and—OH! The Citadel duo of Tormo "The Terror" Frein and Kep Bonnefie double-team him! He passes—oh, and Kep Bonnefie has the ball! There she goes, ladies and gentlemen! And…what? Dirx has gained ground from behind! He's going after her—and he shoves her! Oh, and he has the ball! He's running towards the goal—he passes to Chelo Binay! Oh, the tension is unbelievable!"

"Binay is running…oh, what's this? She passes to Krell Vitor! And he's running to the goal—he's almost there…oh, the Terror and Bonnefie cannot reach their spots in time! Oh, my god…Vitor's still going at it—he's almost there—he shoots—"

Silence. Then the roar of the crowd nearly busted the speakers.

"GOOOOOOOAAAAAAL! UNBELIEVABLE! In this stunning turn of events, team captain Krell Vitor has sealed the victory for the Haunted Woods and scored the final goal! Well ladies and gentlemen, there you have it! The Haunted Woods is victorious! Oh, what a great performance!"

I threw myself back into the sofa and let out a sigh of relief. I had to hand it Shoras. The trophy did fall into the hands of 'our sadistic neighbors', but I was happy for them. Even if they were sadists. I watched the crowd cheer as the winning team gathered together in the field, cheering along with the crowd.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow the awards are held, and don't forget to vote for the Most Valuable Player Awards! Congratulations, Team Haunted Woods, for winning the Cup, and great job, everyone! Thank you, and goodnight!"

When all was said and done, and the Altador Cup had finished, I wasn't the only one still thinking about the tournament. Many Yooyuball fans in Sakhmet were disappointed with our team's loss. The Lost Desert's score ended up at fifth place. That was good, I thought. Fifth place was very good. Under any other circumstances, had it just been bad luck, it wouldn't have been such a failure. However, Team Lost Desert, its fans, and sports critics thought otherwise. The Lost Desert's slip from victory was a shame and an upset, and the blame was divided in two parts.

There were rumors that right forward was selfish, had a rivalry with the left forward, and refused to go to training camp due to a rather nasty holdout. However, from what I heard, she wasn't completely at fault. She was said to be clever, and she could really score. They couldn't part with her.

That's when the second scapegoat came in. The left defender, whose name was Wyett Tuggins, was a good defender, able to steal the ball at vital moments—or so it seemed. His downfall—and inevitably, the entire team's downfall—came at the hands of Roo Island. Roo Island's left defender, a young girl named Fenny Vail, outdid him and snuck a goal, and as a result, victory slipped from the Lost Desert's grasp. Once the games were through, the scores were drawn, trophies were placed, and everyone went home, it was agreed—it was Wyett's fault, and the Lost Desert needed a new left defender.

Three months passed since the first Altador Cup.

I played in the competitive, amateur league games, always as a defender. Yooyuball was the only thing I was firm with, so I made it as clear that I meant business and was not to be taken lightly. I always tackled an opponent whenever I had the chance, and passed to any teammate nearby. I was consistent. But I never scored.

The cheers of the audience blurred into white noise—encouraging white noise. I always played my hardest, adrenalin running through me, until my muscles ached and my heart was ready to penetrate my chest wall. I got pushed around a few times, and tackled, and shoved. But for once, I was willing to fight back.

I came. I saw. I conquered.

The seasons ended, and my team emerged victorious. When it was all over, I went home, tired, sweaty, short of breath, and deliriously happy.

One night, in the Month of Running, I came home late after a hard day at work. There were envelopes lying on the floor. I groaned out loud. I had a feeling that some of them were bills I had to pay for tax collectors (the Lost Desert is infamous for its frequent taxes). I sorted through them. I was right—they were all bills.

Except for one.

It was yellow, with a handwritten address. The return address had the name of the sender: Leera Heggle. My heart stopped. I knew who Leera Heggle was—he was the goalkeeper and team captain of Team Lost Desert. And he had sent me a letter. I had a feeling that it had something to do with my playing, or perhaps the left defender. But I didn't dare assume such a thing. I carefully ripped the envelope open and took out the letter inside. This is what it said.

Dear Mr. Luvea Trivon,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Leera Heggle, and I'm the captain of the Lost Desert's Yooyuball team. I am writing to you on behalf of the whole team, for the following reasons:

You may or may not have heard that our left defender, Wyett Tuggins, has left the Lost Desert's Yooyuball team after the upset loss to Roo Island. As one of those rare instances where rumor is truth, Wyett indeed failed to step up in a clutch situation, involving his failure to guard Roo Island's left defender, who pulled off a successful offensive attack. Since Wyett's departure, we've been in need of a new talent who could lend consistency to our team's roster.

It's come to my attention that you play Yooyuball. I watched the public minor league games during the off-season, and noticed your play as a defender. While you seem not to be a scorer, your finesse and sense of game play are far superior to the others playing alongside you, despite what seems like a lack of professional experience. You also show remarkable consistency, and you seem to have an attitude that was helpful to your team. I've taken the time for the past week to watching you play, and I made the decision to contact our manager. He was definitely impressed by your performance, and gave me permission to contact you.

We're inviting you to take Wyett Tuggins' place as left defender.

There are many benefits—once you've joined the team, you are allowed a stay in the hotel in Altador during the game season. By the end of the season, each team receives a large amount of NP, divided evenly among the players. Your contract lasts up to three to five years, but you can sign up again once it runs out. The Altador Cup usually starts around the beginning of the Month of Relaxing. The tryouts and pre-season meetings begin in the Month of Eating, so it would be best if you arrived around that time so you can practice with us. Your equipment will be provided for you.

If you accept this offer, then reply by the fifteenth day of Running. The manager will contact you and send you your contract and application forms. I know it's very last minute, but from what I've seen, I think you have potential to be a great player. If you don't want to join us, that's fine—it's your choice.

But as team captain, I'd appreciate it if you said yes.

Sincerely,

Leera Heggle

When I finished the letter, I went over to the nearest chair and fell into it.

The captain of the Lost Desert's Yooyuball team wanted me to be their new defender. Me. I wasn't a professional. I was just some guy who enjoyed a friendly game of Yooyuball. I had only been playing for six months! I was good—I wasn't too humble to admit that. But not that good.

Was I?

I considered the offer. If I joined the team, Yooyuball wouldn't just be my hobby—it would be my job. That meant that I would never have to work at that bookshop again. That was something to think about.

I only heard stories about Altador. Imagine seeing it! And imagine meeting the Lost Desert's team. But I'd have to meet the other teams, too. I barely knew anything about the other lands. I heard rumors, and read a few books, but what did I know for sure? Shoras said that in Roo Island, they just bounced and played dice, and that the Haunted Woods was 'sadistic'. Oh, man. That was a risk right there.

But there was another bigger issue—I never left Sakhmet before. And if I joined the Altador Cup, that would have to change. I'd have to leave for practices, and spend three months in Altador, playing hard almost all day, every day. And during off-season, I'd have to attend practices, training camp, take interviews, and all sorts of things. Could I survive out there? What did I really expect?

I turned and looked at my poster showing my support for our team. Lost Desert for the Cup, it said. This was my home team. I could make a difference. But at the same time, did I have the will to go out there, risk it all, and become a champion? I was no champion—and being a nice, friendly pushover could easily be my undoing if my inexperience didn't kill me first. But I could help. I still had a chance.

I decided.

I knew I'd have to do some serious preparation, save up my money, and buy some equipment. I knew people would criticize me, and I knew I'd meet people that could potentially be my enemies. And there was always a chance that I wouldn't be accepted. But that didn't matter.

I was going to Altador.