Chapter 7: A Snowball's Chance in an Oven
The regular season was finally underway. After weeks of grueling training camps and preseason games, the rush of the regular season had taken Neopia by storm. Going into the forth week, Mystery Island had barely managed to scrape out a five and five record. Not an awful start, but the fact that they'd already played Faerieland and Kiko Lake twice each boded ill for the rest of the season. The Lost Desert and Roo Island had stomped Mystery Island, as had their bitter rival Krawk Island. The only high-ranking team Mystery Island had beaten was Brightvale, but most experts said that Brightvale would have won if their star defender hadn't been ejected early in the game for allegedly trying to injure Bertie Shurtz. All in all, most people expected Mystery Island to spend this season in the middle of the league but probably not make the playoffs. As far as the Altador Cup was concerned, most people were betting that they would go out in the first round.
Sal didn't mind. She still ran herself ragged at practice every day. But the practices were getting easier for her. She was no longer completely burnt out by the end of the day. With her spare time not taken up by sleep, she and Ralin finally got the chance to explore the island. She was still tired out by the end of the day, and often had bruises and scrapes from various drills, but she was getting along fine. Ralin was still concerned though. His cousin was never energetic, and he thought she was wasting her time trying so hard. Some nights she would go back to the practice field, leaving Ralin in the hotel, and just shoot balls into the net.
"Sal, can I ask you a serious question," Ralin said one night after Sal returned from one of her trips to the field.
"Sure, what is it?" Sal replied, tired but cheerful.
"Just, why do you try so hard? I don't get it. You go over to that field every day and kill yourself for no real reason," Ralin said.
Sal looked down for a second. She had had a good day, and she hadn't expected Ralin to ask something like that. "Look, Ralin, It's just something I need to do."
"But you're never gonna get to play!" Ralin protested. "I don't see why it matters that much."
"Ralin, I just . . . I just want to. I need to keep working hard," Sal tried to explain.
"But you're never going to play," Ralin said again.
"I know that!" Sal screamed at him. There was a prolonged silence as Sal calmed herself down again.
"I've known that since I came here. Tibbar told me that the first time I met him. Everyone's been telling me that this entire time! That I'm only here to fill a roster slot," she said as tears started forming in her eyes.
"That I'm only here because there's nobody else. Yeah, I know, Ralin. I've known the whole time," and she looked at him, almost crying.
"I just hate how that sounds. I hate hearing that I'm not needed here. That the only reason I was brought here was as a last resort," she looked back down again.
"I guess I have to keep trying, so that I can trick myself in to thinking I have a purpose here," she said sadly.
Ralin sat down next to her and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have said anything."
"It's okay," Sal said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'll be fine."
"Thank you, Tibbar. You've been very helpful," The Faerie Lenny said. "I'll take a look at these tomorrow. For now I think we need to get some sleep."
"You are welcome, sir. I will see you tomorrow," Tibbar said as he walked out of the room.
The Lenny sat at his desk for a few minutes, looking over the reports Tibbar had given him. It was filled with prospects, free agents, trade options, and several possible ways to attempt to repair the team next year, but the Lenny wasn't as concerned about those things a about finding a new General Manager who could pull it off. The old General Manager was being released for his failure to see the problems that would arise if Avaan was signed to a large contract. They now would be forced to either trade him or renegotiate it.
As the owner got up to leave he heard on knock on his door. In stepped Coach Vitornot, carrying a small briefcase.
"Hello Billy," The Lenny said tiredly. "I was just about to head home for the day. Can it wait?"
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to talk with you right now," the coach said. "It is somewhat important."
"Alright, let's take a walk," the Lenny sighed as they stepped out of the office.
They walked over to the training field and began walking around the top of the small bleachers. The field had been equipped with seating so that it could host club games and small events.
"What do you want to talk about?" the owner asked.
"Well, we're having a tough season. We're getting by, but just barely," Coach Vitornot said.
"Is it really that bad coach?" the Lenny asked despite the fact that he knew it was.
"One commentator said we have a snowball's chance in an oven of doing anything noteworthy this year. Volgoth is unhappy because he isn't scoring as much. He wants that single-season goal record badly, and is still mad that Nix is on defense. I want to make him happy, but there really is nothing I can do," Vitornot said.
"And what would you have me do? I certainly can't make Volgoth any happier," the Lenny told him.
"That's what I want to talk about. We're playing Meridell in two days, and I have a crazy idea in my head," the Krawk told him.
"Oh really? I'm listening," the Lenny said, suddenly interested.
"What would you say if I started Sal?" Vitornot questioned.
"Absolutely not," the Lenny replied instantly.
"Oh, and explain to me why not. She's worked very hard to improve. Despite all odds she actually looks competitive in practice on some days," the Krawk said.
"That's not the point. I promised her owner she wouldn't get injured. Aside from that, young players never perform as well in games as they do in practice. She's too young," the Lenny said.
"Why do you think that is?" Vitornot questioned.
"They must protect themselves. They play more conservatively, and don't make the aggressive plays when they need to. They have to protect themselves from looking bad so that they get more money next year. Also, they don't have the experience of playing against the opponent and learning what they like to do. Finally, there is a lot more pressure on them in a game, from coaches, teammates, and fans. She will not play, end of story," the Lenny said.
"But think about it for a second. How many of those apply to Sal? She already believes she isn't coming back next year, so she doesn't need to worry about a contract. She's been watching Meridell play since she was six, so she knows every trick they have. Lastly, she doesn't have any pressure to succeed, because nobody expects her to anyways," Vitornot explained, cracking a smile across his scaly face.
The owner thought for a second, then finally said, "She still might get hurt, and that's not something I want to deal with."
"Meridell has never been a hard hitting team. They're a speed team. Besides, think of it from a business perspective. Ticket sales are drooping quite a bit. If she even does one little thing well, the media will jump all over it. Headlines all over the world will read 'Mystery Island forward youngest player in yooyuball history'. If she gets an assist even, ticket sales will skyrocket. Everyone will want to see this 'amazing young star.' They'd say she was a prodigy," the Krawk said.
"Billy, I still. . ." the Lenny protested. He knew the Coach Vitornot couldn't have cared less about ticket sales; that he was only trying to make another excuse to go through with his crazy plan, but he was right.
"There's one more thing I think you should consider," the coach said, quietly interrupting the Lenny as he led the owner to one end of the field.
Sal was shooting yooyus at the net. She didn't see them up in the bleachers, so she just kept on shooting the petpets into the corners of the net. The yooyus would stand up and run back to her, so that she never ran out.
"So? She's up late at night practicing her shooting. What are you playing at?" the Lenny asked.
"Watch this next shot," the coach said, almost in a whisper.
Sal picked up the next nearest yooyu, a mutant one. Near the far goalpost was a cone, set up a few feet past the goal and a few feet from the wall. Sal carefully lined up the yooyu in her sling, and then shot it to the outside of the cone, twisting her arm over as she did. The yooyu bounced outside of the cone and spun backward, sliding into the net.
"She can do that nine out of ten tries," the coach said confidently. "Do you know how many players can manipulate a mutant yooyu? You can count them on one claw. Or wing in your case, but still, it is amazing," the coach beamed.
"What exactly are you saying?" the Lenny wondered.
"I think that maybe not this year, but a year or two down the road, this kid might actually become a good player. Possibly a great player. At the rate she's improving, she could be an all-star in time," the Krawk said.
The Lenny stood there, watching Sal shoot, somewhat perplexed. He didn't like taking chances on young, inexperienced players. He hadn't wanted to start Volgoth seventeen years ago when the Mynci had entered the league at nineteen. His senses always told him it was an unnecessary gamble that likely wouldn't pay off. But then again, nothing seemed to be going well this season, maybe it was time to take a few chances.
"Alright Billy, you do what you think is best. I still think you're a fool, but you've been a great coach for us for many years. I trust your opinion," the Lenny finally conceded.
"Thank you, sir. I'm glad to hear it. I'll see you in a day or so," the Krawk said with a smile.
"Oh, Billy, one more thing," the Lenny said.
"Yes?" Vitornot asked.
The owner smiled at him. "Tell the kid I said good luck."