The Diego Diaries: Ball(er) (dd6 662)
=0=At the game
Prowl was inspecting the floor with his ultra vision and other parts of the court as he began to mark off his 822 bullet point check list of 'How Optimus Will Be The Champion' and while he did he didn't notice Ratchet step up his game.
Pulling things from his carry hold, he began to assemble his ensemble completely unaware that the roving cameras had latched onto both he and Prowl for the pre-game pre-show (and tell). He donned them quickly, pulling things around and into place as he retrieved his last part, his piece de resistance.
He checked it out, pulling up the entire internet oeuvre of 'how do you do it', then grinned. He was a sight to behold.
=0=Pregame chat with the humans before Show Time
"What the frag has Ratchet got on?" Blaster asked as the screen showed the Primal Box which was beginning to fill up with elders concealing infants in their carry holds, shirt tale family with their children and the little mechs and hangers on that usually came. "What's that thing he's holding?"
Jazz who did a screen shot, then ran it on the internet database from the humans grinned. "It's called a bagpipe." Then Jazz began to laugh his rather shapely ass off.
So did the human reporters chatting as the visual of a tall metallic bagpiper appeared on their screens as well.
The arena was filling up and the noise was amazing as weirdly clad Iaconian fans and sullen tense Tarnians gathered along with everyone else. They had their own noise makers and their conversations were loud and expectant. That all changed, however, when the jumbotron filled with the image of Ratchet clad in a kilt that bore the pattern of the Black Watch regiment, a 'wee little bonnet' on his helm that had two ribbons dangling to his shoulders and in front he sported a big white horse hair trimmed sporran. In his arms he was assembling to play a bagpipe.
He'd obviously been shooting for authenticity.
He gathered himself, routed oxygen to his throat so he could inflate the device, then put the blow pipe into his mouth. Fingering the chanter, he let her rip. The sound that flew from the drones into the greater world around him as the bag inflated and he began to squeeze it with his arm shut the place down. Everyone in the arena glanced his way, then stared at him as 'Scotland The Brave' began to play.
Prowl who was startled nearly fell over the side as he turned sharply with his fists up. He stared at Ratchet, stunned at the apparition before him.
Ratchet on the other hand was having a slagging good time. Behind him, walking up the stairs to join everyone with Prima and Pudding in his hold, Alor walked to Ratchet to stare at the spectacle. "Wow," he said as he leaned in to look at the bagpipes. "That's amazing."
Prowl stared at him, then Ratchet, then the crowd who'd gotten to their feet and began to stomp and scream. He turned to Ratchet who wound down his song, then smiled at Prowl with his arms spread wide. "HOOTS, MON! HOW DO YE LIKE MY WEE LITTLE BONNET!?"
A sharp punch to the face was a swift answer to that question as Ratchet fell straight to the floor like someone had dropped accordion blinds. He landed with a thud and lay there watching the birdies fly around his helm.
Alor picked up the pipes, then moved to one side to examine them. It looked to one and all at that moment that Autobot City would have a pipe band shortly.
Prowl on the other hand glanced to the crowd who were losing their shit all around him, then ducked down behind the barrier separating him from a straight drop to the floor 70 feet below. HUGE laughter and derision, cat calls and other expressions of free speech followed that smooth move. He shook Ratchet. "Hey! Loon!" he asked with his usual pre- and post game compassion.
Not.
Ratchet looked up at him, then laughed. "Yeah, slagger. Frag you by the way, you wee lil mon."
Prowl pulled Ratchet to his peds, then crossed his arms over his chest partly in feigned disgust but mostly in admiration because he, Prowl, could never make such a jackass out of himself and show his face in public again. Apparently, Ratchet was made of lesser stuff. "What the frag is this?" he asked as he stared at the garb.
"This, I'll have you know is the national costume of Scotland. Wanna know what I wear under it?" Ratchet said with a leer as he leaned slightly forward.
A short jab to the jaw was Prowl's answer as Ratchet went down again. The camera caught it all lovingly.
=0=At a nice child's party and game viewing at Amma's and Appa's house
"I give up."
"Don't, Ravel. Sonny is a good boy and he's just helping everyone have fun. You know that Iacon does this sort of thing at sports games. I'm surprised that Sonny hasn't done it at football," Chan said with a smile as he slipped chips to Praxus who lounged on his lap.
"APPA! WHY OWL POW-POW ADA!?" Orion asked as he held a cookie in his servo. He was sitting on Amma Corr's lap with his little optics riveted to the television.
"They're playing, darling," Corr said as he smiled at Orion.
"THEY PLAY? I GO TO DOIN' IT, TOO!?" Orion asked.
"Later," Corr said as the camera lovingly lingered on Prowl helping Ratchet back up.
=0=There
He stood up and straightened his bonnet, the rather nice hat spinning around to drape his face with ribbons when he was punched. Glancing at Prowl, he grinned. "Good thing I'm good natured or I'd throw you over the side."
"As if. Tell me about your purse," Prowl said as he lounged against the barrier with a smirk.
"That is a sporran. It's a device to carry things in, like your dignity, slagger." He opened it and looked inside. "Ah. I see it there now."
"Why do you carry a blanket wound around you? Mama's thumb isn't available"? Prowl asked with a chuckle as the referees walked out to stand around and get some air time. Why they were there now otherwise was unknown, the narcissists.
"That's a cloak. You could sleep in it, wear it as a cloak against the cold and if you were crafty, make a hammock out of it if you weren't an uptight prudish little slagger-"
Down he went again.
=0=Elsewhere
"I don't know about our mech, Venture," Miler said doubtfully as they sat with the infants in their home. The little mechs were with them and the girls were with Bluestreak. He had them with the twins, all of them having a party in his hold as he stood behind Prowl with amazement at his audacity. The viewpoint of the Primal box was on wide screen.
"They're playing. I have to say, I rather like the music Ratchet was making. I wonder how hard it is to play one of those things," Venture said.
"I'll ask Amma Alie," Rambler said as he sat between them on the couch. "I think that would be fun for me, too."
=0=Locker room
"Frag. Prowl's going for broke," Ironhide said as he watched Ratchet stagger back up, straighten his cap and kilt, then punch Prowl in the face. That mech dropped like a rock as Prime winced.
And chuckled.
They were lounging around the locker room waiting for the call to come. Listening to the pre-game with Jazz, Blaster and the humans was interesting and relaxing. Watching Prowl and Ratchet spar was even better. "That is going to leave a mark," Prime said.
"And the game hasn't even begun," Sun said with a laugh.
=0=Getting there
The Primal box was packed as Alor sat with the bagpipes. "I want some of these. Where did you get them?"
"I had them made at The Music Box. Get your own, by the way. I want to use that as an alarm clock for Ironhide," Ratchet said as he leaned against the barrier beside Prowl.
"You'll get arrested for noise," Prowl said as he took a beer from Turbine. He'd gotten snacks and beer for everyone there with Delphi, all of whom had children in their carry holds insulated against the hoo-haw all around.
Maelstrom who was standing behind them with the twins, Partition and the femmes including Lancer were laughing loudly as they took their beer and snacks as well.
It was going to be one of those nights.
=0=Down below
Springer and Company were laughing together in the entrances to the corridors that led to the locker rooms. They had the place parted out to the security teams and were now relaxing against the hard part, the game itself. It didn't pay to be floor level as fast and unpredictable as this game was. Nearby with their medical kits, the Watch and First Aid Auxiliary kids were waiting with First Aid for any emergencies.
They were adorable.
"How many games to the championship?" Lon asked as he leaned against the wall with Bezel.
"Four more games. Then the playoffs. That's two games itself. Then the championship. I imagine that Iacon will be one of those that go onward. They're the only team that's undefeated this far."
"Tarn is determined to beat them," Hercy said. "I heard some of the players at the detailers yesterday. They want to 'break the spell' as they call it."
"As long as they don't break their helms," Drift said with a grin.
Just then the siren sounded that signaled the game to begin. Huge noise erupted then settled to a low buzz as the referees walked to the center of the floor below to gather with the announcer. "WELCOME TO BASKETBALL IN ARENA 3 IN RETRIADES!" he yelled into his mike before being buried in sound.
"TONIGHT, TARN'S TORNADOES WITH A RECORD OF TWO WINS AND ONE LOSS PLAYS IACON WHO HAS AN UNDEFEATED RECORD!"
Huge sound and hoo-haw.
"IN SECONDS, THE TWO TEAMS WILL STEP OUT AND HISTORY WILL BE MADE! RIGHT NOW, GIVE IT UP FOR THE TARN TORNADOES!" he said as a team began to walk out onto the floor heading for the benches across the arena.
The crowd exploded as they crossed the huge glossy floor with an Autobot sigil and the league symbols painted on the floor They planted their banner, then gathered on the line before their bench.
The announcer began again. "PLEASE MAKE WELCOME … THE ONE AND ONLY IACON … INVADERS!" he bellowed as the big mechs of Iacon began to come out and find their benches. They planted their flag, then lined up across from Tarn. It was then that the crowd grew quiet to watch and listen to the two teams strut their stuff.
Tarn being first to come out began to do their haka, chanting together, challenging and mocking Iacon who watched without expression as the 'mech code' demanded. Tarn roared, spun, stepping closer to Iacon with each move. Then they finished just that close to the Invaders. With a whoop, they walked back and stood on their side with smug insolence and the usual bravado.
Prime glanced at his team, then laughed loudly. Roaring his own stuff, he led the Invaders back toward Tarn, throwing down at them as they beat their chests and stepped closer to the other side. They clapped, spun, then stopped just that close to Tarn before finishing. Then they laughed and walked back to line up again.
It was then that everyone turned toward the banners hanging in the center of the arena from the ceiling, the banners of the Primes, Cybertron, Mars and the league. The anthems played, everyone sang madly, Ratchet sparred with Alor for his bagpipes and lost, then it was done.
The teams stepped out, those players who would play and the others who sat down on their benches.
It was on.
=0=Iacon gets the ball
They lined up, Prime as center with Hard Drive and Chromia as forwards. Ironhide held down the goal while Sun and Jack helped to guard their goal with him. The ball was tossed, Prime out jumped the Tarn center, then passed the ball backward to Ironhide.
He caught it, bounced forward shouldering everyone in his path, most of them fast rather than heavily built mechs as he motored toward their goal. He was run out of bounds, then walked to it to put the ball in play.
Prime and Chromia were moving around as Hard Drive filled in for Ironhide's zone. Ironhide passed the ball hard to him, then Hardie threw it to Prime. He passed it to Chromia who climbed a Tarnian's frame to dunk the ball.
Landing gracefully on the floor, Chromia exulted, then ran back to her spot for the toss in by Tarn at their goal. Prowl and Ratchet exulted with a well delivered Fist of Exultation. Maelstrom watched with fiery pride as his girl kicked aft.
It was going to be a long rough game. And the one with the players on the floor would be nice as well.
=0=TBC 5-16-19
My family has bagpipers and dancers in it. My grandma came from Aberdeenshire (New Pitslago area) and they never gave up on it. :D We used to go to Portland, Oregon to watch the Black Watch regiment come and do a military tattoo. Love it. All of it.
Its traditional not to wear any undies under a kilt. There's a great picture of the Queen at the Cenotaph laying a wreath and the wind whips up the kilt of a Scottish soldier in military kilt to expose his rather spectacular ass. Its HILARIOUS! It also answers the age old question. Though none of my relatives ever went commando under their kilts. :D
A kilt can contain from 5-8 yards of wool cloth and it is heavy. My sister got back from Edinburgh last month and brought a kilt for her son. It weighs 34 pounds apparently. I am sure it has a lot of yards in it. :D It will retain its warmth up to 80% even soaking wet and looks like a million dollars.
The sporran is the little bag that is affixed to the kilt by hooks on a chair and hangs in front. The highlanders carried their stuff and food there. The military ones are trimmed in long white hair, horse tails. Long socks turned down at the top, a small dagger, a sgain dubh [s̪kʲənˈt̪u] brogues (long laced, usually black shoes) and various pins and badges round it out. Its a handsome and very masculine attire. :D
Especially if you have the legs and rear end for it. ;)
Glengarry hats (bonnets) round out a really sharp look. Google them. I love them. :D