"That last season was mad!" Jon groaned, shooting me another grin, "No one expected Onu-Koros team to make it to the Silver mask.. Tahu told me that they never usually even last through the first round invitational, but then to beat stone, fire, AND ice at that first game?? How the heck did that go down?"
I shrugged, "Psshh….i dunno. I couldn't look Drew in the eyes for weeks after we got demolished in the preliminaries."
Jon kept giving me that bizarre grin, "We all know that Ta-Koro totally deserved to win the Bronze mask, and that Ko-Koro was just a bunch of-"
"I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT!!!" I nearly shouted, plugging my ears. Jon looked alarmed for about one second, but then he realized I was joking around, and he allowed his countenance to fold itself into an expression of mild pity.
"You living a lie, Darlene. Ko-Koro TOTALLY got steamrolled by us, and there was no trickery involved….you lost fair and square. Then after that heart wrenching defeat….your team walked out on the field, and proceeded to get flattened by Onu-Koro, the underdog. I laugh in your face."
"Feh.." I snorted, still nursing a grudge at that rainy, miserable match so many moons ago.
Kohli was something that the boys and I loved to argue about, It was the biggest sport on Mata Nui by a long shot, eclipsing even the engaging Ko-Matoran rooted Huil snowball sling. Every Matoran on the island knew each score and game highlights for every game in a season. Jon, Tim, Chad, Jerome, Drew and I got caught up in it weeks after we got settled into the island. Debating over who should and shouldn't have lost, and why they lost/won was common practice on Mata Nui. It was true Kohli spirit for the winning teams to be suspected of some sort of foul play, although in reality each team played honesty to a faull.. These wild and generally unserious accusations often involved impossible theorems and explanations to them. In fact, a wide spread rumor about Onu-Koros sudden and unexplained success in last years pre-season was that they had kidnapped Toa Pohatu, the undisputed patron of Kohli, and forced him to mentor the team. Of course, this fell through, since ever Po-Matoran knew that Pohatu was in no way kidnapped, and during most of that pre-season slot was out on his own Kohli field, coaching his team.
Kohli was pretty much an intense combination of hockey, soccer, and full body tackles. Its an easy game to understand, but rather challenging to play. With only six teams on an island playing this game, the seasons can be quite short lived, but heated. It starts out with an invitational, (bronze mask.) Traditionally, for that first match its fire vs water, ice vs wind, and stone vs earth, but depending on how the pre-season tossups turn out, things can change. Whatever three teams win the Bronze mask move on to the Silver mask of course, which is a three on three tournament. I think you can see a pattern here. The two highest scoring teams move on into the ultimate face off…..the Golden Mask Finals.
The fervor of Kohlii is incredibly infectious. There's something about watching four or six Matoran down in those extravagantly built Kohli fields that makes me want to jump up and down and scream like I'm at a rock concert.
Speaking of rock concerts….
My time was running out to hang with the guys. The roadies were pretty much done with the set up, and only needed to tape down the set list on the stage before Switchfoot was clear to go on. Jon knew it to, and stood up quickly, exchanged wordless messages with the backstage manager, who was standing near the stage, motioning him over. Jon nodded at me briefly, and then went on his way.
"Give 'em Muaka fangs, Jon!" I hollered. Over the din of the crowd, I think my statement got lost, and didn't even reach my friends ears. I suppose that was better, then. If any one else had heard me, they would have thought me insane.
Out of the woodwork came the four other guys, prepped and ready to go on. Jerome was jumping up and down, getting some pretty good ups. I gave a little sigh. Well, I guess that we would all resume talking after the snow, and maybe during the tear down. I carefully, almost reverently gathered all the papers together in my narrative, and placed them back into my backpack, giving my friends the thumbs up as they jogged up the stairs onto the stage, and were greeted with many a raucous scream.
