Quodpot Tryouts
Dec 11, 2018 18:35:36 GMT -6
Post by Snick on Dec 11, 2018 18:35:36 GMT -6
For those of you who have not been excluded, come start trying out in the various positions, working out with the previous teams, practicing moves, drills, working on your flying skills, et cetera . . . I'm here to make sure you don't kill yourselves.
Christopher had made it to try outs for the Quodpot team. He really felt that he had an 1% percent chance of making it on the team but that was making it worth the chance of actually trying out. He looked around at all the others trying out and watched the drills they were doing trying to get down the pattern to join in. He heard a little about the game. He had not known what position would be the best for him so was going to work on a blocker but allow the coach to put him where ever seemed fit. He slowly moved to climb onto the school's broom that he was borrowing to work on his flying. He knew there was no way his family could buy one so was stuck with this.
Flying out onto the field, Walker was dressed in his black jersey with a zero emblazoned on the front and back in white, bulging with the added bulk of athletic pads underneath. His helmet black as well, save for two gleaming, golden cat's eyes. Scattered around the field were tackling sleds of the sort Muggle football players used, co-opted from a local high school, and as the wannabe players began to line up, Walker began tilting at each sled, slewing sideways and ramming his shoulders into them, causing them to move several yards on the slick grass of the field. It was brutal, violent flying, the sort of thing that hurt to even look at.
Yet, with each jarring impact, Walker smiled around his mouthguard.
When he was done with his run, he flew towards the prospective players, pulling to a stop and dismounting in front of them, removing the mouthpiece and letting it dangle from his helmet's face-guard, and he whistled loudly to get everyone's attention. "My name's Walker." He barked. "My job on the field is to protect your butts and put the hurt on the guys who want to do that..." He said, jerking his thumb towards the sleds, "...To you. And to rough up the guys who want to score on our goal. I'm not the biggest or the meanest guy in the interscholastic league, and if you get accepted to the varsity team, you will get hurt. You'll learn to like the taste of Skelegro and you'll go to bed on practice and game-nights with ice-packs strapped to your body."
He caught up his broom and raised it to his shoulder like a soldier with his rifle. "Until they decide on a team captain, the guys who were on the team last year are going to take turns holding little clinics to test your skills. Participation is not mandatory, but it can only help your chances. Today's my turn, and what we're going to work on today is passing and evasive maneuvering." He held up his hands, and Miss Duke tossed him a practice Quod, which he tossed from hand to hand. "One of you is gonna take this Quod and fly up the field, and we're all going to chase you. If you get to the end of the field, I'll call out the number on one of the other player's jersies, and you're going to pass to that person. Everyone's going to get a turn, even the ones who want to be blockers like me."
He smiled a predatory sort of smile. "Now, everyone remember, you're not allowed to lay your hands on the person that's carrying the Quod, or to strike them with your legs or feet. You are allowed to grab the Quod, however, and if you take it away from the one who is carrying it, you're it."
"Now, let's everyone mount up." He said, giving his broom a whirl before mounting it. "Who wants to volunteer to go first?"
Patrick had been on the second string the year before. He'd seen a little time on the field, but only when one of the first team had been injured. "I will."
Father wanted him to be well rounded, and by hell or high water, he would be. But as competitive as Patrick was, this wasn't hard to do. He just hoped he survived. Good thing he had a great broom and had been flying since he could walk.
Damon walks into the Stadium and he smiled. This is something that he is used to from his old school. He is hoping that he can get on the team here, as that would be some what of a normal for him. He is also wondering how his brother is doing, and if he is doing well. Damon mounted his broom and raised off the ground a little bit he smiled as he had missed flying.
Christopher listen to everything was saying about what was going to be done today during practice. He was not really sure if actually trying out for the team was best idea he ever come up with. Looking at all of the others students they were bigger and had better brooms. Christopher knew that this was not going to be mandatory but really was worth trying since it would allow there to be more practice. He was relieved when he saw that Patrick was going to go first so that meant he would have someone else to show what to do.
Hauling off, Walker made it look like he was going to hurl the ball not just at Patrick, but through the boy, but at the last moment, moderated his throw into something a little more like a toss. He respected that Patrick was an auxiliary member of the team, and didn't want to go overboard on the tough guy act. He wasn't a bully, after all. Well, maybe he was a little bit of a bully on the field, but only to the other team. "Three seconds. Better get moving." He said, hardly giving Patrick the time to mount his broom. "Two seconds." Had it even been a second? Well, the time it took him to say that was hardly a second. "Better run... GO!"
Christopher had made it to try outs for the Quodpot team. He really felt that he had an 1% percent chance of making it on the team but that was making it worth the chance of actually trying out. He looked around at all the others trying out and watched the drills they were doing trying to get down the pattern to join in. He heard a little about the game. He had not known what position would be the best for him so was going to work on a blocker but allow the coach to put him where ever seemed fit. He slowly moved to climb onto the school's broom that he was borrowing to work on his flying. He knew there was no way his family could buy one so was stuck with this.
Flying out onto the field, Walker was dressed in his black jersey with a zero emblazoned on the front and back in white, bulging with the added bulk of athletic pads underneath. His helmet black as well, save for two gleaming, golden cat's eyes. Scattered around the field were tackling sleds of the sort Muggle football players used, co-opted from a local high school, and as the wannabe players began to line up, Walker began tilting at each sled, slewing sideways and ramming his shoulders into them, causing them to move several yards on the slick grass of the field. It was brutal, violent flying, the sort of thing that hurt to even look at.
Yet, with each jarring impact, Walker smiled around his mouthguard.
When he was done with his run, he flew towards the prospective players, pulling to a stop and dismounting in front of them, removing the mouthpiece and letting it dangle from his helmet's face-guard, and he whistled loudly to get everyone's attention. "My name's Walker." He barked. "My job on the field is to protect your butts and put the hurt on the guys who want to do that..." He said, jerking his thumb towards the sleds, "...To you. And to rough up the guys who want to score on our goal. I'm not the biggest or the meanest guy in the interscholastic league, and if you get accepted to the varsity team, you will get hurt. You'll learn to like the taste of Skelegro and you'll go to bed on practice and game-nights with ice-packs strapped to your body."
He caught up his broom and raised it to his shoulder like a soldier with his rifle. "Until they decide on a team captain, the guys who were on the team last year are going to take turns holding little clinics to test your skills. Participation is not mandatory, but it can only help your chances. Today's my turn, and what we're going to work on today is passing and evasive maneuvering." He held up his hands, and Miss Duke tossed him a practice Quod, which he tossed from hand to hand. "One of you is gonna take this Quod and fly up the field, and we're all going to chase you. If you get to the end of the field, I'll call out the number on one of the other player's jersies, and you're going to pass to that person. Everyone's going to get a turn, even the ones who want to be blockers like me."
He smiled a predatory sort of smile. "Now, everyone remember, you're not allowed to lay your hands on the person that's carrying the Quod, or to strike them with your legs or feet. You are allowed to grab the Quod, however, and if you take it away from the one who is carrying it, you're it."
"Now, let's everyone mount up." He said, giving his broom a whirl before mounting it. "Who wants to volunteer to go first?"
Patrick had been on the second string the year before. He'd seen a little time on the field, but only when one of the first team had been injured. "I will."
Father wanted him to be well rounded, and by hell or high water, he would be. But as competitive as Patrick was, this wasn't hard to do. He just hoped he survived. Good thing he had a great broom and had been flying since he could walk.
Damon walks into the Stadium and he smiled. This is something that he is used to from his old school. He is hoping that he can get on the team here, as that would be some what of a normal for him. He is also wondering how his brother is doing, and if he is doing well. Damon mounted his broom and raised off the ground a little bit he smiled as he had missed flying.
Christopher listen to everything was saying about what was going to be done today during practice. He was not really sure if actually trying out for the team was best idea he ever come up with. Looking at all of the others students they were bigger and had better brooms. Christopher knew that this was not going to be mandatory but really was worth trying since it would allow there to be more practice. He was relieved when he saw that Patrick was going to go first so that meant he would have someone else to show what to do.
Hauling off, Walker made it look like he was going to hurl the ball not just at Patrick, but through the boy, but at the last moment, moderated his throw into something a little more like a toss. He respected that Patrick was an auxiliary member of the team, and didn't want to go overboard on the tough guy act. He wasn't a bully, after all. Well, maybe he was a little bit of a bully on the field, but only to the other team. "Three seconds. Better get moving." He said, hardly giving Patrick the time to mount his broom. "Two seconds." Had it even been a second? Well, the time it took him to say that was hardly a second. "Better run... GO!"
