Batey Ascending

Minutes to the match start. Lights were blaring, cymbals were crashing. It’s a party out there. From the inside looking out, the stadium seems considerably bigger than before. This is the National stage, the play-offs. Winner moves on, loser never looks back. And I’ve had enough of losing.

I turn to the backline and spot the crowd warmers getting everyone hyped up. Yuiza’s leading the cheers for the squad. If I’m not careful I won’t be able to take my eyes off of her. All the noise is getting me pumped up. If I could kick up the speed on my boots I would, but I already know they can’t go any faster without me losing my handling ability.

It’s just the anti-gravity, making my stomach feel like it’s swimming. It’s a non-stop state like that, unless I’m flying, it feels I’m sinking. I know I’ve got a lifeline, though, but I don’t want to take it unless it’s absolutely necessary. This is our first real game, the big league, the result of hard work and constant struggles. I’ve got to pull my weight fairly here.

From up above the Sphere the central pillar that held up all the biggest screens started lighting up. Each ring of lights turned the whole Sphere into a new color. Red for waiting, yellow for preparing, and once it hit green it would fade back to the light blue-sky color that gave us the most focus while we flew around.

At red I felt heavy. At yellow, unsteady. The time passed slower. I was squared up behind IND23 with my arms tucked in like I learned. Elbows and knees were the best points of contact for striking the ball away, shoulders and hips were for diverting, torso was for blocks and set-ups. Everything I learned and taught myself was coming up to the surface and covering my mind.

I had no time for love, no time for family. In that moment, we were a team. No races, no backgrounds, and no reasons other than the simplest: that we were here to win.

The Sphere went green. The ball was launched, straight down the middle from above. AB moved in against Fred. They both handled the ball at the same time, elbow to elbow, pushing from behind with their boots. The Flash Flight grew brighter as the power concentrated until finally the clash broke and the ball went screaming down, deep, and left field, our side. IND23 was on it fast, along with two of the RTG boys.

I dove down and caught up in no time. The boots pushed me around at mad speed. The floating light motes in the Sphere field passed by me like dust getting blown by from the base of a vent line. Good thing I had shades on.

The ball was contested. IND23 winged it back toward the center line but JD, Fred’s right-hand man, was on it with a knee. It was coming close to me. I just changed my trajectory and body-blocked it with my abs. Not made of steel, but hard enough to block the ball. It pushed me back, so I tucked my legs back and boosted forward on a rocket-slide pose while upside down.

The field around the Sphere blocked our sight to the stadium. We could hear the crowd and feel the noise, but at a certain point, everything would shift. There wouldn’t be a right side or upside, just two circle patches of where the ball had to go on opposite sides of the Sphere. So, to me, everyone else was floating the wrong way, and my body didn’t understand why.

The ball got contested again. JD’s side man, Pugg, flew forward with his knee pointed and jerked himself up when he contacted the ball just so to give it a spinning lift. Just the control from his ankles gave him that much more mobility. He moved good for a big boy. Of course, in the Sphere, size doesn’t matter much.

The ball was back up in our field and the RTG boys were moving in on it. AB was keeping Fred at bay, elbow to elbow, knee to knee. He was a simple guy but he’s the strongest player I think I’ve ever seen. Fred must be frustrated not to have an easier victory like he’s used to, but we can’t relax.

I see Chilly making moves on the defense. She’s up against a nasty burly looking dude with half a head replaced with cybernetics, I think his name was Brobane. Their machine head processors give them the tactical advantage, but they don’t have the spirit. They’re outsourcing their own instincts to computers operating on a bench somewhere while we’re up here just moving our bodies.

Brobane spins, no more center line, but Chilly doesn’t get tricked. That’s my kin. She backs off and does a corkscrew turn to find the ball and dash right at it. I’m rushing up to help because I see a dude making a sliding knee tackle in her direction.

“Dive, Chilly!”

She hears me and sinks. The guy passes over her and hits the ball into the wall of the Sphere. The magnetic repulsors bounce it off and it’s going downward again at a high speed. It bounced back toward the center field with IND23 and AB clashing back and forth to contest their place.

It’s just me and one other dude free and able to make the strike. I fly in, Superman style, elbow out. This’ll hurt if I miss, but it’ll probably hurt him worse to get hit. IND23’s guard breaks away JD. He nudges the ball to the side for Fred who breaks off from AB to take it on his chest and spike with his elbow.

I lean up, angle with my ankles, a small change that makes a big ascent and get the ball on my wing tip and crunch my body to spike it down. I’m heading for the Sphere roof now but the ball’s heading straight for the goal.

Deflected, just in time, but I can already tell Fred’s shaken. He sees me soaring, and I hope he sees me grinning.

~~~