A story written by Stevie Maxwell and me!

The Huntsville Mayors traveled to Williamsburg to take on the Minutemen. Jack Tarman, Stefan Calico, and Sam Gwosdz meet together to take in the game. Everything isn't all peaches and cream, though. Read on.

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March 3, 2014

Patriot Stadium, Williamsburg, VA

The scene was an all-too familiar one to the feline. The crowd roaring below and around him, cheering for their hometown Minutemen and booing loudly for his own visiting team, the Mayors. Stefan Calico (Tabby Cat, Owner, HNT) had taken it upon himself to make himself a little more available to attend his club’s games this season, with his ever-present bodyguard Leo nearby. And much like other matches in cities across the continent, the hosting team’s management always welcomed him with complimentary box seats.

For most of those other games, very few owners and general managers would be in the same box, preferring to maintain a professional distance and keep the fans from wondering what could possibly be going on between rival owners so close together. However, with both Jack Tarman (Tiger, Owner, WIL) and Sam Gwosdz (Red Fox, GM, WIL) also seated with the visiting pair of felines from Alabama, there was no pretense of collusion between these clubs. The only deal done directly between them during their tenures was a low-key swap that brought backup center Eric Logan (Bull Elephant, C, WIL) to Virginia in exchange for a draft pick. Another trade had returned bigfur William Handon (Black Panther, F/C, retired) to Williamsburg, while the Minutemen had sent Damien Nathaniel (Hyena, F, WIL) up to Albany for a season and a half as the Alphas paid the Mayors cash to complete the three-way deal. Since then, D-Buckets had been returned to the team that drafted him after another three-way trade was made with Albany and Tallahassee.

“Your team is still doing as well as they can,” commented the tabby, “especially with Vera [La Tiérra (Red Vixen, G+, WIL)] sidelined with her injury.” He hadn’t intended on directly addressing either of the Williamsburg representatives in the box, though his friendship with the vulpine implied that he wasn’t expecting the tiger to answer first.

Sam nodded briefly. “Yeah, Stefan, I know.” He couldn’t forget that scene, with Vera grasping her bleeding ear after an inadvertent swipe from Xavier Knutten (Squirrel, G/F, SPO) in an attempted steal. He gazed at the court, trying to find the vixen, though it was almost impossible to do from that angle. She was seated behind the Minutemen bench, dressed in a smart navy suit and skirt. Her left ear was bandaged, the red gauze and bandages giving her a whimsical look. She was clearly bright and cheerful, though, clapping her paws and calling out to the court to support her teammates. Every so often she’d cringe though, as it hurt whenever her ear moved.

“Diego [Imperio (Degu Rat, G, WIL)] is trying really hard to step up,” Sam said. “Vera told me after she got hurt that she talked to him personally. He seemed to understand, but it seems like he’s just got the jitters.” Sam conspicuously didn’t mention that the team had won five in a row, matching their top winning streak of the season.

The 72-year old tiger, who was dressed in his usual black suit, nodded. Even though his orange fur and stripes were faded with age, he still seemed chipper and spry. “Considering everything, I think Diego’s been improving well. I’m very proud of him,” he said, a bright grin on his face. The tiger always had a cane with him, his bad left knee necessitating such.

‘Considering everything...’ Sam thought. He couldn’t help but think of René Lacoste (Jackal, G, ALB). He had traded him almost immediately on draft day, fearing the Underwood Rule, and the canid from Louisiana blossomed with the Alphas when he was promoted to starting point guard, eventually appearing in the Rookie Challenge. Diego, meanwhile, had remained on the bench, blocked two ways by La Tiérra and Crystal Davis (Cheetah, G, WIL).

“... Sam? Did you hear my question?” asked the feline owner. “How has your wife been doing?” He noticed the fox seemed very deep in thought, watching the game with an almost faraway expression.

“... Huh? What? Oh oh... she’s doing fine, Stefan. Sometimes, she still has to wear the knee brace from her old injury, but she’s doing fine. She’s been trying her best, certainly happier after last year now that she’s feeling useful on the team,” he said. For a while, Marron Gwosdz (Arctic Vixen, G, WIL) had the team high in assists for the season, earning nine against the Firestorm at the end of December.

“Glad to hear she’s dealing with her knee. Seems the injuries are really piling up this year, eh Jack?” chuckled the cat as he motioned to the older feline’s cane.

The tiger let out a merry chuckle. “That’s right, Stefan. Teams probably need to hire two other players to act as gurney wheelers for daily injuries!” he said, then busting out with a belly laugh.

Leo only smirked as the the two owners shared their amusement, even though he himself had to be recruited to be one of the assistants in helping some of Huntsville’s own players off the court. While their new medical trainer was still trying to get used to the Mayors’ way of handling injuries, her presence alone had cut down the athletes’ time away from the game by a couple of days. Still, the bodyguard didn’t appreciate the joke as much as the other cats in the box did.

After catching his breath, Stefan cleared his throat and continued. “Still, it’s quite comforting knowing that the players are so willing to get right back on the court right after getting cleared by the trainers. I’ve had to remind Coach [Howard] Schnitthund (German Shepherd, HC, HNT) to keep those who’ve just recently recovered to limited minutes, no matter how much we need them in the game. Don’t want them having a relapse or anything too quickly.”

Jack nodded. “Indeed. Peter [Ewing (Tiger, head trainer, WIIL)] has done a crackerjack job for us as well, helping Vera and Desmond [Macon (Siberian Tiger, F, WIL)] through their injury problems. Vera needed stitches right away for her ear and he provided it. The injury could have been a lot worse than it was, he said. Vera was very lucky.”

“It’s less about luck and more about the skill of your crew, Jack,” Calico complimented. “Not only do you have a fine group of athletes to represent Williamsburg on the professional basketball courts, but your staff have done a fine job of keeping them as polished and as healthy as they can be. Wouldn’t you agree, Sam?”

“Yeah, they really do a good job, all right,” the fox said, his eyes peering through his glasses to the action on the court, the bill of his Minutemen cap providing a bit of “tunnel vision” for him to focus. The fox was glad to have Stefan there, and had greeted him so when he arrived in the box, but the young general manager was much more interested on what was happening in the game, for whatever reason.

With the hosting Minutemen down by eight at the halftime break, the team had slowly begun to work away at the deficit during the third quarter. It had been a fierce battle in the key between Leonard Mack (Fox, F/C, WIL) and Hassan Kamal (Camel, C/F, HNT), most of the points in the game having come off either of their paws. While the Moroccan had shown little exhaustion, he was frequently having to chase down the big vulpine to the arc as 7-Up had managed to pop open to sink two longballs in the game so far. And while the owners had been chatting it up between themselves over small talk and other pleasantries for most of the match thus far, Williamsburg had sealed up most of the gap to start the final quarter only down by one.

“Sam? Is everything okay? You seem really focused on the game today,” noted Stefan. He knew the fox had a tendency to invest himself heavily into his job, and wanted to make sure that he wasn’t being left out of the conversation he was sharing with his boss.

“Everything’s fine, Stefan,” Sam replied, looking back and sharing a little grin. “I’ve just been looking forward to this game since we came back from Pittsburgh.”

“Ahh, the Keystones,” grinned the tabby, “quite the turnaround story they’ve been. Kinda hoping for something like that to happen with my players this season, but it’s not looking like that’s about to happen. Pity.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, maybe so,” he said. He was at least heartened by the Minutemen’s play. He had seen it last year when Vera was suffering from her bouts of depression as the team seemed to band together, no matter who was there, and all tried their best. It didn’t translate into many wins, but it proved the value of experienced veterans like Mack, Teo Masalia (Black Panther, G+, WIL), Nick Nwabudike (Elephant, C, WIL) and for a brief time, Sasha Ivanovich (Lynx, F, ALB). No one really questioned their efforts.

The crowd had been getting increasingly louder when the Minutemen were chipping away at the deficit, and the arena had pretty much burst into a deafening roar when Crystal Davis sunk a jumpshot from the shoulder to finally give the home team their first lead of the game. The ensuing time-out called by the Mayors only got the audience to root that much louder as the cheetah shared high-fives with her teammates.

“You see? This is exactly what I keep trying to reinforce with my club -- to never give up,” mewed Stefan. “Even though we may be at the bottom of the conference and languishing in the cellar of the league, there’s always going to be a glimmer of hope as long as you give it your all.”

Sam nodded in reply. He smiled, though it seemed a little forced. “Yeah, you’re right, Stefan... I just hope they can close it out...” he said, the last sentence causing him to swallow briefly. He tried to look at the court as Morgan Roosevelt (Raccoon, HC, WIL), the coach that had been there and seen everything, who had been coaching as long as Sam had been alive, was giving instructions to his defense. His words carried on as he slapped at his clipboard and pointed at several spots.

Jack also nodded, adding his own thoughts in. “Gotta have faith, son. Anyone can win at any time, and you know everyone’s trying out there.”

“Yeah.”

Stefan shot a quick glance at his bodyguard, his ear twitching slightly to the GMs short reply. Leo simply shook his head very slightly, and the tabby gave him a nod before turning back to his fellow owner. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m sure you got the e-mail...”

The conversation seemed to drown beneath the noise of the crowd as play had started back up. The chants of “D-FENSE! D-FENSE!” rocked the arena whenever the Mayors had possession, while the cheers and arena organ playing “Charge” and “Go Team Go” for the Minutemen during their possession were equally as powerful. Neither team, however, could effectively stop the other from scoring in the final quarter, as fouls were drawn on a lot of missed shots and the points were made up at the charity stripe. The see-saw battle was intense throughout that final frame, up until the last Huntsville possession that gave the visitors a two-point lead with only 4.7 seconds on the clock. Coach Roosevelt had immediately called his final full timeout as John Stoat (Stoat, G, HNT) had spread his arms in the Maximus pose to quiet the crowd a little.

“Still the same showoff that I remember getting from Spokane,” mused Calico. “So glad that we had also gotten [Ambrose] Slade (Eurasian Lynx, G, ALK) and [D’Angelo] MacQuilkin (Lion, G, HNT) to buddy up with him and get him under a bit more control. My media relations budget is so thankful.”

While Jack laughed at that comment and slapped his good knee, Sam didn’t say a word. He was focused again on the game, his paws clasped in front of his muzzle as Roosevelt drew up the last play. ‘He has several options’, Sam thought. ‘The Mayors might not know who he would really go to.’ Then something else flashed in his mind.

“90-80.”

The fox blinked and shook his head a little. ‘No, Stefan and Jack are right. Have a little faith. You brought everyone here, they’re all good furs. They don’t get in trouble, they’re good with the community and they all try their best,’ he thought to himself. The home team was now ready as the time-out horn sounded again, the white-suited Minutemen ready to inbound the ball. John McAffrey (Weasel, announcer) called the play-by-play for the Minutemen broadcast team.

“Mack, waiting to inbound, gets it to Macon, quick pass right back to 7-Up rushing the paint. Defense collapses, the fox is goi-... pass behind his head to the corner! Moon from the baseline with the shot at the buzzer... IT’S GOOD!”

As the horn sounded, the rookie wearing headband and goggle combo thrust his arms in the air as a grinning Mack gave him a congratulatory swat on the back and Masalia and Davis gleefully shoved him to the sideline. Vera, meanwhile, was standing and cheering, clapping her paws and all the while trying not to move her injured ear. The scoreboard, however, read “94-94”, much to the groaning and the clamoring of the crowd who had thought the wolf had sunk his shot from the woods. But none of the officials had their arms raised on the last play, indicating that the bucket was only a tying one and not a game winner, so the match was headed into five minutes of overtime. The jumbotron replay did show that one of Alexander’s sneakers was on the line, so the two clubs got their players ready for the extra period.

“Ahhh! So exciting!” exclaimed the Huntsville owner. “I bet this is exactly why you were so anxious for this game, eh Sam?”

“Yeah, Alex made a great shot there,” Sam replied with a grin after he finished clapping.

Jack was laughing and clapping himself. “Great for Alex to keep so calm! Not many players can do that so consistently!”

Stefan gave Sam a grin right back. “And you were so worried about him being a bad choice for the first round of the draft.”

That made Sam chuckle, but it was a nervous chuckle. He WAS still worried a little about that, as another player he had passed up, Raoul Kidane (Ethiopian Wolf, C, PLY) was starring for the current #1 team in the Eastern Conference, the Plymouth Taproots.

And where were the Minutemen? At the bottom of the Central. Even though it was shaping up to be one of the evenly weaker divisions in the league, that didn’t do much to help the fox’s feelings about his choices. ‘It wasn’t fair to Diego or Alex, though,’ he tried to remind himself again. ‘They’re fine. They’re quality players that generally responded well when forced into starting roles from the injury to Desmond Macon.’

Mack had won the overtime tip-off and the home team’s first possession led to a pair of points and a foul from the Mayors rookie Dewitt Azad Ghakhar (Markhor, F/C, HNT). Macon was unsuccessful in converting the three-point play at the charity stripe, and Huntsville came back to their end of the court with an unlikely three-pointer off the fingertips of Tyler Kiko (Goat, F, HNT) who had popped open at the left shoulder after the defense had collapsed on both Stoat and Kamal driving the lane. The one-point lead only made the crowd cheer louder for the Minutemen, and the overtime clock ticked down with the see-saw battle of points between the two teams being scored off good play-calling by the coaches and players.

During Huntsville’s 20-second time-out, Stefan glanced over at both Jack and Sam. He could see how both of the Williamsburg representatives were clearly interested in the game, but there was a tension in his vulpine friend that wasn’t reflected in his fellow team owner. It seemed as if he was clasping his paws tighter, almost in prayer. The feline considered saying something to the fox, but looked back at his bodyguard once more and received another slight shake of his head.

McAffrey: “38 seconds on the clock, Minutemen up by one but the Mayors have the ball. Kamal to inbound, finds Stoat. The mustelid gestures for an isolation with Imperio, doesn’t get it, shot clock down to 15. Pass to MacQuilkin in the high post, back to Stoat, swing pass to Kamal at the baseline. Facing Mack, shot clock at 7. Stoat cuts down the lane, Kamal tries to bounce pass but Lemack pokes it! Ghakhar at the shoulder to collect and heaves it at the hoop. No good-- TIP IN BY STOAT! Mayors by one, timeout Minutemen, 10 seconds on the clock!”

Jack shook his head and smiled a little. “Stoat’s everywhere tonight. He’s incredible.”

Stefan also shook his head as well. “He sure knows how to slink his way through the trees to get in the right position. Dunno why he decided to leave his longball skills back at home tonight, though, but there’s still time for anything to happen.” The cat leaned over to see if Sam had anything to add.

The fox had nothing to say. His eyes were squinting a little more, and there was a slight grimace on his muzzle, almost like he was in pain.

“90-80” flashed through his mind again and he blinked, trying to shake it out.

“Sam? Really have nothing to say?” Jack asked. The fox let a long sigh out of his nose. “Anything can happen, you’re right, Mr. Tarman,” he said. His tone was quite flat, nothing sounding like he had talked earlier.

* * * * *

On the court, both coaches were furiously going over plays and potentials for the final 10 seconds of the period. A second overtime would be gut-wrenching, but both sides felt that deep in their hearts that this would be the final possession. And one thing that both coaches, Schnitthund on the Mayors and Roosevelt on the Minutemen, were sure to end their tirades on: “Guys, gals... no matter how this turns out, never been prouder of ya." "All I’ve ever asked is that you give your best out there. You do your best, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Now go get ‘em!”

With the time-out over and everyone lining up for the last play, Stephen Hawyer (Rooster, F/C) stepped up to Macon who was slated to inbound the ball and told the tiger: “Just like back on the Bantams, eh buddy?”

The messy-haired tiger grinned at the avian, remembering practices for final plays just like this one over in England before trades sent them both scattering throughout the league. “Heh, got that right, brah. Good times.”

“Winner buys the loser first beer?” cawed Stephen. “Just like old times?”

“You’re on, Steve!”

The whistle then sounded and the rooster stepped back from the tiger so as not to get a delay of game penalty.

McAffrey: “Macon to inbound, looking for an opening. Dumps it over to Davis near half-court, guarded by Stoat on the switch. Clock is ticking, heaves it in to a cutting Imperio, running along the arc, 7 seconds left. Diego, doubled near the corner, back to Davis. Stoat is all over her, 3 seconds, bounce pass to Macon driving the lane! Scoops it up... no good! Rebounded by Kamal! Mayors win in overtime! Unlucky bounce for the tiger! Final score in overtime: Huntsville 106, Williamsburg 105.”

From above his head, Roosevelt brought down his fist and stood back up in a comically exasperated pose. Vera groaned loudly as the attempted shot bounced out and then grimaced and held her hair. Groans and sighs came from the crowd after the final horn had sounded. It just wasn’t meant to be that day.

Hawyer had walked over to Macon and gave his former teammate a bro-hug, offering a jovial “You really wanted to buy my drink badly!” joke to the tiger. Macon shook his head and smiled. “Just for that, I’m ordering all the expensive stuff!” Most of the other players were shaking hands and paws, some with less-than-pleasant but otherwise civil exchanges. Even Coach Schnitthund, shaking Coach Roosevelt’s paw, looked extremely relieved and sheepish. “You know you would’ve won. That was a bad bounce. Good play.”

“Thanks, Howard. It was a hard fight out there.”

The teams then trudged to the locker rooms, one more game in the books and still more to come. Various feelings were still around, most evident by the frown on Davis’ muzzle and the grin on Kamal’s schnozz.

* * * * *

Stefan Calico shook his head at the final results of the overtime match. “Wow. Fighting to the very end, now that was a great game. Wouldn’t you agree---” He found himself cut off by Sam Gwosdz standing up rather suddenly and walking out of the box area. The three felines left in the box watched him leave, then Jack Tarman sighed and propped his paws on his cane.

“Sometimes I worry for him, Stefan.”

The domesticated feline flicked his ear and cocked his head slightly to the larger cat. “Is there something I don’t already know? I mean, last year he was stressed beyond belief. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t called to check up on him.”

The older tiger nodded. “He wants nothing more than to make this team a success. I admire him for that. I love his business acumen, his potential to grow, and he makes good, sound, smart decisions... but he’s so hard on himself. Every mistake he thinks he makes is amplified ten times in his head. I’ve had to talk to him several times to try to prop him up.”

“Does he still measure success by wins and championships?” sighed the tabby. “I thought that by reminding him of my own team’s shortcomings that he’d look beyond that. The Minutemen are popular again after that airplane fiasco. They’ve got more superfans out there that wish they could be like Troy Hodges (cheetah) and attend every game. Heck, Jack, you guys even have the Healer’s [Healey Davis (Cheetah, G, retired)] daughter.”

Jack nodded and smiled a little. “It’s been wonderful having her here, I hope she’ll decide to stay because I’d like to see if she can grow in talent like her father. But Sam...”

The tiger then sighed through his nose. “He’s deeply embarrassed that the team is in last place in the division; he sees that as his own failure because he didn’t bring in just the right people. He keeps track of the standings every day, trying to figure out what can get them out of the cellar and back in contention. This loss tonight was probably like a wrecking ball to his confidence.”

Stefan flattened his ears against his head. “I hope he wasn’t seeing my team as some easy path on the way to fix his win-loss record. As much as I care little about where my team is in comparison to the rest of the conference, I still hope that we do earn some means of respect amongst the other clubs. After all, sometimes someone just has to take up the role of the Conference punching bag. But that punching bag hits back if one’s not careful.”

“And I don’t think anyone takes the Mayors lightly, Stefan, even Sam,” replied the tiger thoughtfully. “But he’s tried to do just about everything possible, and I think he’s exhausting himself. The team’s heading to play Baltimore on Wednesday, and I think he’ll travel with us. He just wants answers, Stefan. I know you two are good friends and I hope you might be able to get through to him eventually.”

The cat nodded slightly, but also sighed a bit. “He’s lost his faith. Sometimes you just can’t have the answers, and one just has to believe that what you’re doing is the best course of action, even if it doesn’t feel like the right decision. But as we’ve already discussed, my time with being a close friend with him is quite short. It looks bad enough that I’ve still not finished the transference of ownership of my team, but the fact that none of the other owners seem fazed by the emailed announcement has me worried about what is going to happen when everything is public. That’s why I’m glad you’re here, Jack, and I’m glad we got to talk a little about what’s in store for the near future.”

“You’re welcome, Stefan. Always glad to talk business and basketball,” Jack replied. He then grinned a little bit. “You know, you remind me a little of me when I was your age. Though I don’t think purple would’ve been my first choice to go with my stripes!” The tiger burst out in a gale of laughter at his joke.

The younger feline half-bristled under his dark-purple suit, a blush coloring the lighter fur of his cheeks as even Leo snorted behind him in amusement. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just a fashion pioneer. Besides, it’ll be all the rage by next season. I’m sure Foo-Foo (American Eskimo Dog, Owner, SJT) will see to that once things are finalized.” Stefan then cleared his throat to regain Jack’s attention. “Seriously, though, Sam still needs help. I don’t know if I can give him that, but I don’t want to abandon him either.”

“It’s all right, Stefan, we’ll all do the best we can. He’s a good lad, I’m sure he’ll come around someday.”

The tabby nodded. “I know. He’s young, just like me. Dunno how I’ve managed to go from where I am to where I’m going next, but I guess that’s just the way things go.”

Jack chuckled at that. “Indeed it is. Well, I think I need to go catch up with Sam, see if he’s all right. You have a good night, Stefan, and Sam wishes it to you as well.”

Stefan extended his paw to the tiger. “Of course. Thanks again for the hospitality and the conversation. Leo and I will gather our things and leave you to your business.”

Jack shook Stefan’s paw and nodded. “You’re very welcome. Hope to see you next time you’re in town.”

“Likewise, should you happen to swing by Huntsville,” replied the tabby as he shook paws with his fellow owner. The farewell was reminiscent of the one he shared with Sam two years ago in this exact same box. But things had been so much different then than they were now, and there was one thing that the cat shared with his vulpine friend but knew better how to hide it...

Trepidation and a lack of confidence.

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(We did a LOT of name-dropping!)

Stefan Calico, Leo ©  steviemaxwell

Jack Tarman, Samuel Gwosdz, Marron Gwosdz, Morgan Roosevelt, Peter Ewing, John McAffrey, Troy Hodges @  sam-gwosdz

Eric Logan ©  darrenzeraus

William Handon, Teo Masalia, Nick Nwabudike, Sasha Ivanovich ©  oinuttah

Diego Imperio, D'Angelo MacQuilkin @  lizzimba

Alexander Moon ©  positronwolf

Crystal Davis ©  tobu

Vera La Tiérra, Damien Nathaniel, Hassan Kamal ©  jtigerclaw

Desmond Macon ©  baddwill

René Lacoste ©  tube

Ambrose Slade ©  mongooseink

Raoul Kidane ©  rikoshi

Dewitt Azad Ghakar ©  pac

Stephen Hawyer, Leonard Mack, Xavier Knutten, John Stoat, Howard Schnitthund, Tyler Kiko, Foo-Foo, FBA ©  buckhopper