As he walked away from yet another stadium with his head bowed and his sack of possessions on his shoulders, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was his lot…
To reach the playoffs in league play in 8 out of 11 seasons he thought he might have gotten something out of it even with sheer ruddy bull headedness, but no. Nuffle had deemed him unworthy of making the splashes that other teams had made.
His last employers didn’t even sack him, he just left, they seemed more interested in arguing over the sub standard port they’d been served by the High Elves on their visit to the Disco Divas stadium. At least Coach Balwen had been his usual gentile self and provided him with words of comfort and a nice Elfic red for his travels.
As he trudged down the gleaming marble road away from the Divas stadium, he contemplated his next move. His luck had ridden South again, so he figured he may as well do the same thing. After all, what else could go wrong.
After a few minutes he felt emboldened, maybe the future could be bright… then he heard a spluttering sound, mechanical but it almost sounded ill… it was coming from down the road in front of him. Something that sounded that ugly really shouldn’t have been around these parts, and then he saw it – a ramshackle vehicle with blacked out window barely held together by anything other than rust and gaffa tape. It barrelled towards him as all thoughts of a favourable future exited the coaches brain as he girded himself for Red Rose fans ready to mock him or even worse raiders. Well nadgers! He thought, they’re not having this bottle… maybe it was fate that Balwen had given it to him, at least he’d have a weapon.
He smashed the bottom of the bottle against the ground, leaving a sharded blade with the sticky remnants… the glistening red liquid seeping slowly away…
The van screetched to a halt in front of him and he made ready… the door screetched open with a grinding of metal….
“Awww bloody hell boss, we coulda ‘ad that…”