Chapter 21—-Shibu's Game

Carlton was as good as his word, and better. The elder Ecaflip went so far as to take Shibu by the hand, as the two of them walked slowly around the underground vault into which the Castle's cornerstones had been set.

There was enough space down here to hold half of the city's population, who walked around above probably never realizing that this place existed.

True to what he had said, as the pair of them made their way beyond the large circular chamber and into some of the passageways originally built to bring air, water, and light to the original Castle builders. Shibu began to see makeshift shops set up here and there. Most of them were various colorful blankets spread on the stone floor upon which a seemingly endless variety of trinkets, toys, jewelry and most of the smaller necessities of life had been set out for display.

Shibu's presence was instantly noticed by all the denizens of the tunnel system. Most of the shopkeepers and sellers greeted a new face with the same warm expressions that Shibu had seen in the great courtyards now far above their heads.

For Shibu, this place was a genuine treasure, because one of Shibu's favorite pastimes was exploring small shops, and discovering items of all kinds from days gone by. The entire population of Bonta, and in fact the entire World of the Twelve seemed to be represented in the sellers and buyers who milled around in the neatly organized underground spaces.

Carlton was both understanding and pleasant, stopping whenever Shibu discovered something he had never seen before, and would not be satisfied until the seller told him everything he could about the new item.

It bothered Shibu that he had left most of his money inside one of the chests at the bottom of Count Maxim's wagon. He patted himself down quickly, and discovered to his chagrin that the fall over the iron railing had emptied his pockets of the few remaining coins that Count Maxim had given him! A pang of guilt shot thru Shibu. Most of these people were good, fair-minded sellers, simply trying to make the best living they could for themselves and their families. Normally, Shibu would've quite simply opened the large leather pouch of coins, and very happily spread them almost equally from one end of the makeshift market to the other. Not so much for the sake of the things that he saw, some of which he would've liked to have bought for Felice and Cici. For the most part, it would've been to bring a trace of happiness to the sellers themselves, many of whom had not seen a single Golden Kama in a long while. Shibu had seen only worn silver coins in most of the pouches and drawers, occasionally there was also the glint of copper among the handful of coins that each seller husbanded.

Shibu was also surprised to see the large majority of the vendors were younger than he expected, many with several children tugging at their elbows, as the vendors tried to attract attention to what wears they had on offer.

As he walked together with Carlton deeper into the labyrinth of interconnecting tunnels, Shibu did some quick figuring in the back of his mind. He had not seen all of Bonta yet, but in these tunnels, after just a few minutes walking, he had seen as many vendors down here as he had up above near the toy store, and the collection of food stands.

Shibu had learned enough of the basic rules of buying and selling from everyone in his village. It took no special knowledge to see that half of Bonta's economy had truly been sunk beneath the weight of the Castle above.

Every once in a while, Carlton would smile and wave at one or more vendor or family of vendors along the circuitous route. Most of the people Carlton recognized were his age, or close to it. It was fairly obvious from what they had for sale, and the way they talked together that some of the older vendors had been down here for most of their lives.

That made Shibu shudder. He tried to imagine coming here to the same spot, and doing the same thing day after endless day until they amounted to years of time passed. It was almost as if some of the vendors Shibu met were slaves, in a sense, even after Bonta had outlawed slavery generations ago.

Bidding goodbye to his friends, Carlton picked up the pace of their shared walk after most of an hour had passed.

"Come on young fella. Or will be late for the first match of the day!" Carlton called Shibu with a teasing smile. Carlton solved the intermediate problem by simply swinging Shibu up onto his shoulders!

Shibu went as willingly as he always did with Cici, and Carlton was able to thread his way through the thick crowds which seemed to assemble not far ahead of them, as a great number of people tried to squeeze quickly through a small door in the passageway up ahead.

"Time for Boufball, m'boy." Carlton said joyfully. "Now you'll see some genuine Bontarian Boufball."

Still seated atop Carlton's shoulders, the large Enutrof minding the single door ahead wave both of them right through the narrow opening. Carlton sidestepped for a moment, and ducked slightly to fit them both through the door. But he did it as if he'd been doing it every day of his life.

Space inside this walled off section of the foundations expanded into another cavernous space. But this one held no massive stone blocks, nor the equally bulky ironwork which reinforced the cornerstones.

In the place of the masonry and stonework, there was a huge round field of genuine grass, which had been recessed into the white marble stone itself.

No one had to tell Shibu what this place was. The markings laid out by chalk dust on the green grass were as familiar to him as his own hand prints.

A Boufball field!

The change in the regulation shape didn't seem to make any difference, for the grassy circle was so large, and so well-kept that it seemed to rival any rectangular field Shibu had ever seen!

But the advantages of the rounded shape became obvious as Shibu saw hundreds, and then thousands of people file in to each rounded tier of seating on a different levels of a stadium which was actually a mammoth amphitheater!

Shibu supposed that it was still early morning, as the daylight that flooded the venue and lit up the field came down from a single broad shaft of sunlight, reflected by angled mirrors set on each level of the amphitheater. The result was a clean, pure light, brighter than any torch delivered into the huge space many stories underground. It was the single most wonderful thing Shibu had ever seen. He took in the sight of it with his jaws slack, lost in the wonder of it until a small stocky man riding a shaggy Black Gobby galloped into the middle of the round field, and let loose a deafening blast on his whistle.

The competing teams ran out of arched entrances on the opposite sides of the field, as the crowd populating the amphitheater seemed to explode with excitement.

It was then that Shibu noticed something as new and different as the way the stadium was lit. The two groups of players all wore shirts of the same color, accented with short pants and headbands of the same color. But other than that, there was no attempt at coordinating a uniform of any kind, aside from the standard boots, gloves, and shields used in a regulation game.

Shibu instantly understood that these were not professional players, as most of the people of Bonta would understand them. Instead, they look more like the multitude of faces that Shibu had seen along the concourse full of merchants through which Carlton had brought him.

"Real Bontarians, playing real Boufball!" Shibu exclaimed, just as Carlton bent over slightly to begin explaining the situation to Shibu.

"Oh, so you know this game, do you?" Carlton asked, being funny.

"You're kidding!" Shibu shot back. "I'm the best striker this side of Bonta. We play every day, sunshine or rain."

"Down here, we never worry about the weather. Even on cloudy days, we get enough light to play, and play we do!" Carlton replied happily.

The whistle sounded again sharply, and after a moment the game itself began with the typical jump ball. Within ten seconds of the second whistle, Shibu forgot entirely where he was, as his mind became entirely fixed on the game he was watching. It was no longer a question of underground, or above it. Nor a question of rich, or poor. The only thing that mattered to all of them was the game itself.

Carlton seemed to have worked some sort of magic in picking just the right seats so that the pair of them could see the game with a slightly elevated clear view of the entire field. As the game went back and forth on a rectangular field, games here flowed to and fro from one side of the vast circle to the other. The field itself was divided into two large semicircles by the standard goals that were the same on any Bontarian Boufball field.

The goaltenders opposed one another on opposite sides of the vast circle, each having a clear view of the other on the opposite side.

But rather than moving, almost sloshing from side to side, as happened on rectangular fields, the circular version was far more free-flowing, much quicker, and in spots, much rougher than standard Boufball.

The match went around and around the circular field, seeming to wind itself up like a mainspring every time the competing teams made a full circle. The game itself continued to swirl, even as various players took short, and long shots across the circular field at the opponents goal. The players and their game never seem to stop moving, not even for an instant, until or unless someone scored. And even then, the pause was brief. The game halted just long enough to gather both teams for another jump ball, after which the revolving mayhem seem to continue without let up, even while the crowd was still cheering the goal that had just been scored.

It seemed the only time that the spectators for the unusual sport were permitted to relax and draw breath was during halftime, which served as a break to allow everyone involved to refresh themselves, and prepare for more. It also gave a large majority of the audience time to call for various snacks, served to them by unique vendors, who walked up and down the steep stairs among the tiers of stacked seating, all the while competing with one another to call out more loudly whatever delicacy they had on offer.

The most popular were ironically enough, small bite-size pieces of roasted Gobby, served with flagons of cold water, offered up in many and various fruit flavors.

Shibu was sorry again that he left his leather pouch in Count Maxim's wagon, and the young lad felt a pang of guilt as Carlton dipped into a nearly empty bag of coins on his belt to buy them both a bite of food, and a slosh of something to drink.

The half-time interval seem to be coordinated exactly for the snacktime required, for as most people were finishing their refreshments, the whistle blew for the second half. But before the jump ball, replacement players for both teams were announced, according to the rules of the Bontarian game.

Shibu could not help notice that several of the replacement players seemed much bigger, and much stronger than some of the others that had played in the first half of the game.

But he knew almost better than anyone, that such substitutions were legal, as long as each team was limited to five players, and followed the rules, without cheating.

As the game wound itself back up again, assisted by the near frenzy of the audience in the amphitheater, Shibu began to take notice of the striker who was wearing the red colors for the game. He was one of the replacements at halftime, and he was the biggest Iop that Shibu had ever seen!

Along with his size, the new red striker was also one of the biggest cheaters Shibu had ever seen!

The big player used size and intimidation, both of which were entirely legal on the field. But the red teams striker was also a past master at the fine art of missing the ball when he kicked, just as another opposing player happen to be near it.

As a result, a trio of yellow players sailed through the air, in rapid succession and wound up rolling across the circular field faster than the ball which they were all chasing.

"That's cheating!" Shibu cried. "And it's not fair play!"

Sitting next to him, still munching on his last few bits of roast meat, Carlton smiled. "Well, that's the game, and its life too. What can you do?" The elderly Ecaflip said casually.

Almost as if to punctuate what Carlton had said, the whistle blew again to pause the game as the last injured yellow player was moved to the sidelines, even before the Enripsa's brushes had a chance to work.

Carlton heard Shibu growl, ever so softly. Then the dark-haired boy said "I'll show you!"

Almost before Carlton could hear him, Shibu was up, out of his seat, and hopping easily down the levels of seating, toward the field below!

For Shibu, it was as easy as hopping over rocks in a stream to keep from getting his feet wet.

But for the crowd, the spell of the game had been broken by the whistle, and the spectators had someone new to watch as Shibu made hopping through twelve sections of seating look easy, simple, and fun!

When he hit the seats close to the grass circle itself, he was momentarily halted by a white marble retaining wall, just a little shorter than himself. Shibu put on a bit of a show, lifting himself up by one arm, and holding the pose to polite applause before dropping over the retaining wall as if it had never existed, and onto the field itself.

Once he had grass rather than stone under his feet, Shibu was in his element, and he was up on his toes taking long purposeful strides across the field, his eyes focused like blue beams of light on the striker wearing the red colors.

Treating the injured player, and pronouncing him unfit to continue took several seconds of time, during which the referee with the whistle never saw the approach of the dark-haired boy with the unusual hat. By the time he turned around, and saw Shibu, the young lad was standing toe to toe with the red player, who towered twice as tall over the boy!

"I don't like you!" Shibu said, loudly enough for both teams, and a majority of the spectators to hear him very clearly. "You cheat, you hurt people, and you like it."

Shibu snarled angrily at the red striker who up until that moment had been enjoying the sight of another broken opponent. The look of smug self-satisfaction fell from the Iop's face.

"Get outta here, pipsqueak, or I'll use you instead of the ball the next time we jump."

"Wanna bet, big and ugly? I could score on your whole team, and I could do it without cheating, like you do."

Before anyone could say anything more, two things happened, nearly at once. The audience erupted in foot stomping cheers, and the Referee, who had nearly swallowed his whistle in surprise, blew his whistle as hard as he could.

Shibu expected to be thrown off the field, maybe even out of the amphitheater. For just a moment, he was sorry to Carlton for what he had done. But then, Shibu heard another sound that cut through him like the referee's whistle.

It was the Cheater.

The big man was laughing. Laughing at Shibu, so hard that the red striker almost fell over trying to keep his balance.

Shibu's response was a quiet whisper that could be heard by every spectator, no matter how high up they were sitting.

"I challenge you! Shibu snarled again, this time managing to sound nearly as mean as the Iop had been a few moments before.

The cold tone in Shibu's defiance struck something in the Iop.

This kid wanted a fight.

No Iop ever refused a fight. It was part of what they were. Fighting was their way of life.

And Shibu knew it. He had the cheater, dead to rights.

Both the Red Striker and the boy with the pure blue eyes shot a glance at the referee.

The now nervous little man on the sheep pulled a small booklet from his back pocket, and turned the pages with shaky fingers.

"Well, The Yellow Team does need a substitute." He seemed to squeak more like a mouse than an official.

The ref looked quickly at the captain of the Yellow Team.

"Eddy here was our last man." I guess we'll have to forfeit the game." The yellow leader said sadly.

Just then, a hand reached up from the stretcher resting on the sideline grass.

Eddy didn't say anything. He was down to using one good hand, and he used it to take the headband from his own forehead and hold it out to Shibu!

The amphitheater seemed to erupt, like a living volcano! The sound was probably heard as a low rumble in Bonta, hundreds of feet above.

Shibu took the headband, as the spectators cheered.

Only the referee,the Yellow Team leader and the cheating Iop heard Shibu say "I volunteer!" as the dark haired boy with the blue eyes retied the headband to fit.

The little man riding the sheep shrugged at last, and let loose a grand blast on his whistle.

As the referee made the sign for a jump ball, Shibu heard the Iop cheater whisper to his teammates.

"No mercy, no quarter."

The wall of cheater was betting that Shibu could hear him now.

"If that's the way he wants it, that's what he'll get." Shibu told his team as the other four made a screen so that Shibu could put on the rest of his Boufball gear.

When Shibu stepped out from between them, he was holding the extra ball always kept near the home team bench. Shibu thrust the ball skyward, while spinning it on the palm of his hand, and then, without looking, on the tip of his gloved finger.

Sitting in his seat, Carlton went from being worried for the boy to being worried he might find himself in the middle of a riot!

The audience around him had simply lost their minds!

As the referee lined up both teams for the jump ball, the audience was stamping their feet and howling, almost like a great pack of wild animals.

Shibu and the cheater faced one another across a tight circle of grim faces.

Waiting.

Waiting..

And then, like a sound from another world, the whistle blew.

And Shibu was airborne, his fierce blue eyes set on the ball as if there was nothing else in all the world that mattered.

Shibu's reactions were quick and sharp, seeming as natural as instinct itself. He put more into the jump than he ever had before. In only a moment, he had missed the elbow that the cheater had aimed to bounce off of Shibu's forehead, and was instead sailing almost a full head in height above the tall Iop.

He caught hold of the ball on the way down, tossing it back up as he moved upward himself. It took only a second for Shibu to see the distant goal, and to see it in a way he had never known before. His vision was filled with the same sort of subtle blue light that came with the mysterious holes which seem to be made of the same light. Only this time, there was a beam like quality to it. A pair of broad lanes of light seem to slice through space itself, reaching into the goal and then going beyond it.

As soon as Shibu's feet cleared the circle, he made a circle of his own, turning head over heels in space above the group of players still on the ground below him.

His aim was more than perfect. It was also powerful, as if it was guided through space itself by the blue light he had seen a fraction of a second before. Both of his feet smashed hard into the ball which seemed to hover in front of him. It was as if Shibu had launched a missile guided by the two rails of blue light that focused on the goal. The ball seemed to scream through space, and before Shibu could set his own eyes on the ball again, it was spinning exactly in the top middle of the goal, fighting to tear through the twine and continue its flight.

The goalkeeper was the second tallest player on the Red Team. But there was still more than a foot of distance between the top of his head, and the bottom of the crossbar that formed the top of the goal. The ball had shot through the space before the red goalkeeper could move, or even think about blocking the shot.

Shibu's head over heels kick carried him around in a full circle after his feet seemed to blast the ball clear out of the unique round field. He dropped back down onto the same spot where he had been standing the instant before the whistle blew. Around him, the circle of players had loosened slightly, all of them expecting to begin an all-out chase for the ball. Instead, all of the players, and even the referee, still mounted on his Gobby, were all staring in absolute disbelief toward the spot where the ball now spun against the twine.

"That's one!" Shibu said, not sounding at all petulant or cocky. As he stood before his teammates on one side, and the entire Red Team on the other side of the jump ball circle.

"You want to apologize now, or should I score a couple more, just to prove my point?" Shibu asked the six and a half foot Iop striker, who had barely had a chance to look away from what had been his ball when it was in the air only a few moments before.

Shibu's question seemed to restore the referee to some sort of consciousness. The official riding the sheep now put some real effort into blowing the whistle that was still hanging from his lower lip.

But the only sound Shibu could hear was the sound of the Stadium crowd after realizing he had scored almost before anyone had set eyes on the ball!

A moment before, most of the crowd had been howling almost like wild animals at the nature of Shibu's challenge to the Red Team that seem to make up their own rules.

Almost before the audience knew where the ball was, Shibu had given them something real to cheer about, and without breaking any rules, or any bones for that matter.

The entire amphitheater seemed to hoot, whistle, and yell, all while still stamping their feet on the wooden framing that formed the seating inside each tier of the amphitheater. In only a moment, Shibu seemed to have converted the entire vast space into universe of cheering noise.

The living avalanche of sound seemed to expand exponentially when the scoreboard for the round field flickered for a moment, and then marked one goal for the previously shorthanded Yellow Team.

Across the loose circle of players who had been thoroughly and unexpectedly outplayed, there rose a low and dangerous growling of disapproval. Especially from the tall striker who had raised Shibu's ire.

But the small round man writing the sheep was nowhere near as easily intimidated as some of the players in the yellow squad. The referee took a yellow card from his pocket, and waved it under the nose of 6 feet of angry Iop.

"That's no good!" The striker protested. "We wasn't ready!" The striker complained on behalf of his red teammates.

Across the group, from behind Shibu, the captain of the Yellow Team spoke up. "The whistle blew. We all heard it. The kid here just put one over on you, but good, and that counts!"

"That's a goal!" The small man riding on the sheep replied. "Yellow one, Reds nill. Jump Ball-Again!" The referee concluded.

Shibu took a moment to risk taking his eyes from the red squad, and looking over his shoulder and up a bit at the other members of the Yellow Team. Each of them were smiling broadly, and all of them showed thumbs up.

Shibu had been officially adopted, once more in his life, and it felt good.

Shibu smiled back, returning the happiness of his teammates. But when he looked forward again, at the semicircle of red uniforms in front of him, Shibu wasn't smiling anymore. His pure blue eyes were as hard as diamonds, and in them, anyone with common sense enough to see could also see the flash of determination in his youthful vision.

"I think someone said something about "no prisoners", and I also heard the phrase "no mercy". Shibu told the members of the red squad.

"If that's the way you really want it, I'm game. Are you?" Shibu asked the red squad, aiming his words like the blue beams of light that seem to come from his eyes toward the tall cheater in their midst.

For the first time, Shibu saw both doubt and fear flicker across the eyes of four out of the five players wearing red colors. The only set of steady eyes belonged to six feet and more of Iop.

"You got lucky, pipsqueak, try me one-on-one, and you won't get away with it so easy, I say!" the Iop snarked.

"You guys want anymore of me? Shibu growled, looking directly at the captain of the Red Team.

The other four members of the Red Team quickly exchanged nervous glances between one another. And then slowly, one at a time, the four team mates peeled away from around their striker, and went back to sit calmly on the visitors bench, leaving the six foot Iop and the much smaller dark-haired boy exchanging dagger-eyed glances at mid field.

The tension of the moment was diffused by the blast of a horn, which covered everything in the amphitheater with a blanket of familiar noise.

Shibu also knew what the horn meant. It was almost the end of the third quarter. Time for the fan surprise.

This time, the little man writing the sheep didn't need to be told in advance what the addition to today's game would be.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The referee announced to the crowd using a small handheld megaphone. "Today's fan surprise: a head-to-head shootout between the ruthless striker Victor the Iop from the Blood Reds team, and-"

"Shibu of Amakina" Shibu filled in quickly.

"-and Shibu from Amakina! The boy with the windmill moves!" The referee announced. "Three minutes of game time to a draw, or the first goal wins!" The referee added as the crowd took up a generous round of applause and cheering for a way to settle the confrontation within the rules of the game.

"Players ready!" The referee announced.

Still staring at one another with dagger eyes, both Shibu and the big Iop nodded tightly. "Ready!" Shibu answered. "As another famous Iop once said. "Get the sauce ready, because here comes the steak!" Shibu drawled slowly.

A steam made of pure rage seemed to shoot from the red striker's ears.

"I'm gonna put you back in your crib, junior. And then,I'm gonna set it on fire!" the Iop snarled. "Your tricks won't save you this time!"

Before Shibu could reply, the whistle blew again.

This time, the only tricks Shibu needed had been perfected by many long summers, playing with friends who loved the game, and hated cheaters as much as Shibu did.

Shibu let the Iop have the jump ball. Because once the red striker had it, Shibu could and would enjoy taking it away from him!

The Iop was tall, strong and powerful. The model for intimidation from a long distance. But as Shibu watched him scoop the jump ball out of the air, and take off at a dead run for his goal on the other side of the circular field, Shibu could see the bigger players weaknesses, as if each and every one of them were lit up with the blue light from his eyes.

Reflex and practice instantly put Shibu up on his toes, and Shibu took off after the striker. The Iop seemed to be lumbering along in slow motion. Shibu's Ranger run took him down the circular field and around the curve in the opposite direction as quickly as all spectators seemed to stand up and cheer!

The Iop was strong, but had no training. He was powerful, but only powerful in his anger. Shibu calmed his mind, and focused on what he wanted to do. To play the game the Iop's brutish way was to lose, every time. Now, Shibu would make the cheater play his game, for a change!

Using all of his skills would have been unfair. That really would've been cheating. Then Shibu saw he wouldn't need all of his skills in order to win, and to teach the brutal bully the price of breaking the rules.

Shibu arrived at his goal with what seemed like minutes to spare, walking up and down in front of the framework and twine with his arms folded, as if waiting impatiently for the Iop ball carrier to arrive.

The spectators took in Shibu's attitude and the crowd began to snicker, before more open laughter bubbled up from the crowd a few seconds later.

When the red striker carrying the ball finally did come into view on Shibu side of the field, Shibu was laying down in the grass, seemingly pruning it one blade at a time in front of the goal, as if he had not a care in the entire World of the Twelve.

The audience positively roared with laughter!

It took a second to sink in to the dense layers of the Iop's mind that Shibu and the crowd were really laughing at him, and not at Shibu's disrespectful antics.

The red striker let out a loud bellow of rage, and holding onto the ball with both hands, he seemed to stampede directly at his opponent's goal, as if to simply run right over Shibu, and put the ball in the net with his own two hands.

This was what Shibu had been waiting for.

Most of the spectators wiped the tears from their eyes just in time to see Shibu crouch down low in front of the center of the goal. It looked as if he was a fast runner about to start a mile run.

The moment the red striker crossed the chalk line in the field that meant he was two thirds of the way to the opponents goal, Shibu took off at a low, fast run, as if the noise of the spectators watching were the sound of the starter in one of the foot races he had run so often with his friends.

Shibu never left the stance that let him run up on his toes, instantly there was a moving trail of bright blue light behind him, as the dark-haired boy seemed to run faster than he ever had before.

And Shibu was not the only one to see that he had set himself on course for a head-on collision with the ball carrying Iop! The audience realized it as well. As Shibu shot toward the cheater, all the spectators at once seemed to draw in a sharp breath of surprise. Many of them winced at the impending collision, only moments away.

Shibu seemed to pounce on his much bigger opponent. He sprang at the Iop like a stone from a slingshot.

The half-witted striker was still holding the ball in two upturned hands! For Shibu, the moment was just exactly right, and Shibu struck hard. The Iop's upturned palms were a perfect kicking tee for the ball, and Shibu gave his best flying side kick. His right foot caught the ball before the Iop could see it, and the ball shot away from his grasp!

It dropped lightly to the grass as Shibu sailed over the iop's head, and landed two short steps in front of him.

"Hay Ugly! Free Shot!" he hollered at the Iop, egging the larger player on to take a swipe at the boy with the long-tailed hat.

It was then the the Iop noticed that the ball now rested quite comfortably between Shibu's feet!

The Iop smiled. Crushing this insect would give him the ball again, and the goal he was sure to score, now that Shibu had moved away, leaving the goal open.

It was bait the Iop could not refuse!

The striker drew back an arm nearly as thick as a young tree, and with the flat of his palm, where the ball used to be, he swung his arm down in a great smashing arc, intending to simply swat this annoying pest and retrieve his ball.

Shibu saw it coming before the Iop knew what he was going to do. He simply turned his shoulders, making his torso narrower, and then took a full step back, which was really toward the side.

The Iop's huge hand smashed down, with only air and grass under his palm.

Before the Iop could react, Shibu hopped into the air, changing the direction of his feet while he held the ball between them. Shibu slowed down to toe tap the ball which was now in front of his feet as the smaller and faster boy seemed to dash for the other side of the field.

The spectators had never seen anything like this.

Controlling the ball with the feet was something brand new to the vast sea of onlookers. Here and there across the amphitheater, spectators began to cheer for Shibu as he loped around the round field, able to wave at the audience, because his hands were completely empty!

To prove that he had real control of the ball, Shibu would toe tap it every third or forth step, popping it upward so that Shibu could bounce the ball lightly off of his forehead before it fell back down to the grass again. All of this while Shibu was also using a swift running style that most of the spectators had never seen or imagined.

There were a few Cra in the audience, and as they saw Shibu's favorite run, they picked up the cheer for him, spreading it farther and deeper into the crowd.

The Iop spent a few seconds looking at his empty palms, and then down at the grass at his feet, looking for a ball that was already half the field away! The audience that wasn't cheering Shibu almost fell from their wooden plank seats laughing at the striker that Shibu had left behind.

Once more the bigger clumsier player bellowed with rage, and set off after Shibu at a lumbering run!

For Shibu, it was like being chased by a mad Goball, and he took full advantage of his lead over his slower and slower witted opponent.

His first job was to win the miniature match.

But Shibu had one more thing to teach the cheating bully before Shibu could just leave off.

When the Iop was still a quarter of the field away, Shibu stopped where he stood, and he put down the ball. Just outside of the chalk line that marked the Iop's goal.

Then he turned his back on the goal and the ball, and waited, facing his lumbering opposition.

This time, when Shibu looked at the Iop, he was covered in a soft blue light, that showed a small, soft red center.

Almost...

Shibu did a back flip and came down into a single armed hand stand right on top of the ball. Together the combined shadows reached all the way to the back corner of the goal.

Shibu was exactly where he wanted to be.

When the Striker came within ten yards of his own goal, Shibu sprang up and into action once more. This time, he kept hold of the ball and waited just exactly three more Iop steps before he dashed forward.

All of a sudden, he wanted and needed to run faster than he ever had before. But not out of fear. He simply knew somehow that this was the right thing to do.

And his speed seemed to double as he saw traces of the blue light surrounding his hands and feet as he ran.

Shibu never hit the Iop. That would be playing his game. Shibu had another game in mind. One that he could play, and had already won.

He had measured the length of the Iop's thick arms before.

Now Shibu swept into a wide circle around the Iop. One twice as big around as the Iop could reach.

All the Iop striker saw was this trail of blue light racing around him, faster than his eyes could follow. Boufball had taught the Iop to always follow the ball. Yet, as the iop tried, he had to stop, standing in one spot, trying to follow a ball whose outline he could barely see as the blue light seemed to wrap around him, moving faster and faster every moment.

While his body could stay still, his eyes could not. They were trying to find and follow the Boufball.

Around, and around, faster and faster in a blur of blue light.

After a few seconds, the Striker had a bigger problem. The constant movement of his eyes seemed to tie his stomach into a huge knot, even as he felt himself becoming more and more dizzy and not knowing how to stop it.

Then the Iop's mouth was full of something warm, and sour, that tasted just awful!

The Iop sank slowly to his hands and knees, and then threw up, leaving a warm, wet puddle in the middle of the grass!

But Shibu wasn't done.

"Cheaters make me sick too!" Shibu's voice seemed to come from everywhere around the Iop, as if the blue light had become a living thing wrapped around him. "Had enough, Cheater?" Shibu asked.

'Yes, Yes! Just make it stop! I give up! I give up!"

"Oh no you don't. You don't get off that easy." Shibu said as he seemed to appear out of the blue light, to stand just far enough in front of the woefully sick Iop to avoid messing up his shoes.

Shibu thrust the ball at the now slightly green Iop.

"Get up, walk over, and score on yourself!" Shibu instructed firmly.

The Iop spit out the last of his bile, and shook his head, as the rest of his body shook as well.

"No, not that!" he replied. "That will go on my record."

"It's Okay." Shibu answered, I could run around you longer if you want it that way."

"No! Anything but that!" the Iop protested as he sprang up, standing on a pair of shaky and weak legs.

Timidly, the bigger Iop reached for the Boufball, as if it were a soap bubble and likely to pop as he held it.

"Go on, score my goal for me, and we'll call it even." Shibu ordered.

Downcast,sore and sorry, the Iop trudged the last few yards to his own goal, extended his thick arm, and dropped the ball behind the line!

Shibu had never noticed that the crowd watching the shootout had gone absolutely silent.

That changed the moment the ball hit the grass on the net side of the goal's chalk line.

The round amphitheater seemed to explode in cheers as the Iop wobbled,and fell flat on his face,following the ball sheepishly into the goal behind the line.

The referee blue his whistle, ending the shootout and the game, but almost no one heard it.

The audience on one side of the round field threw yellow caps, jerseys, headbands, and bouquets of yellow flowers at Shibu, seemingly determined to bury him alive in their redeemed team spirit.

Shibu smiled and waved, even as two of the groundskeepers showed up to sweep it all up, as the tossed souvenirs collected around Shibu's ankles. They were swept away quickly, so that Shibu could make his way off of the field itself.

The grounds keepers opened a small gate that was the short way back to the stands, and Shibu climbed back into his seat next to Carlton who greeted Shibu with an ecstatic smile, and a firm handshake!

"Shibu, That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" Carlton said with the enthusiasm of one of the much younger fans now fighting their way out of the round playing field, each fan quickly snatching a free souvenir from a pile as big as a haystack near the Yellow Team bench!

"How did you manage-" But Carlton stopped short. Shibu's head dipped, just a little and rolled gently to one side, reveling to Carlton that Shibu was fast asleep!

"Poor lad, I suppose he's had a big day!" Carlton observed to no one in particular.

"Come on lad." Carlton said quietly as he picked up Shibu tenderly to carry the crowd's latest hero out of the amphitheater.

"I suppose we could find you a spot down here, my boy." Carlton said talking to himself as he walked back along the concourse. "But I can tell. You belong up top. Yessir, right at the very top. You just trust old Carlton, I'll get you back alright, safe and sound."