Chapter 1: 1. ROGER’S FIRST WEEK

Roger was dying. He could feel his heart beating with a brutal force, his bruised skin throbbing with swelts of pain and the light in his eyes fading away. As Roger's breaths grew more heavy and laboured, he cursed his "stupidity" for allowing him to end up like this. As far as he was concerned he could have avoided this scenario entirely if he had just gone straight home from school. But no, he wanted to get more Vincball practise down by the stoneyard, and now he was paying the price for it.

This was not the first time Roger had been jumped, he was a quiet kid in a horrifically vicious neighbourhood. Though he never had much on him to steal it did not stop the thugs in this area from trying him anyway. Though this was not the first time he experienced it, it was the worst. As he lay there on the road he was genuinely convinced that he was about to die. They say when you experience near-death the full story of your life comes back to you in glimpses. A cliche Roger thought, but perhaps it being a cliche is why it was on his mind and why he was genuinely getting those glimpses. But aside from a few scenes of his wonderfully doting mother, not much of his life came to mind. Instead, he reminisced about Vincball.

Vincball was a simple sport and a much younger one than most. Drawing inspiration from the likes of football, basketball, hockey and American football, over the years it had quickly developed into a niche yet beloved game. So much so that in his deliriously injured state Roger could remember all the rules to the letter.

Vincball players played as teams of seven on a court resembling an indoor five-a side football pitch, though in place of goals or nets there was a black backboard on either end with a squared slot you threw the ball into. That was how you scored. Teams must pass the ball amongst each other and get into a good position to throw the ball into the scorebox. Players could run with the ball, but for no longer than a couple of seconds, but for Roger that was enough. If you manage to get by all the players and successfully throw the ball you get one point. But if you were good enough you could kick the ball into the scorebox and get your team two points. And Roger had definitely been good enough.

As Roger's breaths grew shorter and light faded dimmer, the only moments of his life that he recalled fondly was when he was on the Vincball court. Those highschool games felt like world championships to him. The passionate hustle and bustle of the game combined with the crowd cheering your every run, kick and throw were a drug he could never get enough of.

As Roger faded away, he could not help but strangely smile. Recalling glory in his final moments was enough to leave him somewhat happy.

But Roger did not die that day. He found himself awake in the hospital hours later, much to his relief. Whilst he was at the hospital Roger thought about the incident. But not about the attack itself...about what flashed before his eyes as he thought he was dying - Vincball.

That was the day Roger decided to go all in.

 

Months later Roger found himself travelling in a plush expensive car en route to Maxus University, home of the one of the best up and coming Vincball university teams in the country. As he poked the surprisingly comfortable leather seats with one hand, Roger used the other hand to scroll on his phone. For the fourth time today, Roger went to the universities online page and pulled up his player profile:

Name: Roger Vegunbe

Age: 18

Height: 5'9" (1.76m)

Weight: 167 lbs (76kg)

Background: Nigerian-English

Position: Sprinter

Stats: N/A

Excitement swelled within Rogers' heart as he looked at the profile. He could not wait to fill out that stats section. Roger's admiration of his profile was put to an end when he received a call on his phone. He groaned, until he realised who it was from.

"Hello Mum,” Roger answered with relief. The excited chattering of his mother on the other end of the line was so loud that even the hired driver could hear portions of the conversation.

"Of course I'll behave...yes I know...of course I will,I've been dying for this for so long, any less than 100% isn’t acceptable."  Roger assured with a sigh. "Right I will be safe...okay love you two Mum, bye."

Roger hung up the phone and placed it back in his pocket. He let out a satisfied sigh as he poked the comfortable seats of the car again. He gazed out the window to see they were closely arriving at their destination.

Roger wandered aimlessly around the campus main of the university to which he marvelled at. The lecture buildings, the accommodation buildings, the campus restaurants, even the library, it all looked so pristine, amazing and high class to him. It was the point where he felt it wrong that a person of his status was allowed to step foot here.

As Roger walked towards the main visitors building, he found a girl in a suit waiting for him. The girl tapped away on her phone with a serious and important look in her eyes.

Though the girl looked only marginally older than him, the demeanour she gave off was one of a high-class business woman. She had meticulously neatly curled and buoyant brown hair, sophisticated framed glasses and her suit fit her like a glove. She looked like a corporate woman trapped in a university student's body.

As soon as Roger entered her vague field of vision, she wasted no time in putting away her phone. She greeted him with a bright white smile and reached out to shake his hand.

"Hello and good morning, Roger. It's nice to see you again." she greeted. "Hannon, Chelsea Hannon."

"Oh, hello Chelsea." greeted Roger with slight apprehension. "We've met before, have we?"

“I’d expect you to remember me better. I'm the reason you even get the privilege to lay your desperate eyes upon this fine establishment.” scoffed Chelsea. She shook her head, rolled her eyes then started to hyperactively storm off, expecting Roger to follow without a second thought. “Come along now.”

Roger's brows furrowed in confusion as he attempted to keep up with Chelsea walking at a great pace. Everytime he caught up with her, she seemed to only increase the pace at which she was walking, as if to purposefully toy with him. Roger remembered who Chelsea was now. She was that Vincball recruiter who came to scout him and his teammates during his final month of highschool. He remembered her being just as odd and hyperactive back then as she was now. 

As Roger followed Chelsea he received an impromptu tour of the rest of the campus passing by the medical labs and law lecture theatres as he started to actually match her pace.
“This is one of the best universities in the country but I don't really have to tell you that.” Chelsea said as she gestured at the educational buildings. 

“You’re right, you don’t.” snarked Roger. 

“Which is why it might be difficult for you to start off with, you're going to have to catch up on over a month of schoolwork.” Chelsea told him. 

“Don't worry, I'm right on track, I've already completed two weeks worth of it before I got here.” Roger assured her. 

“Good. Now forget all that shite, time to focus on the real reason you're here.” Chelsea said, raising an eyebrow at Roger suggestively. “The gorgeous game of Vincball.”

The already potent excitement in Roger’s heart swelled even more. Vincball, now they were talking. 

Chelsea and Roger walked up to the almost-regal seeming glass and metal structure that was the Maxus University Vincball training facility. The Vincball facilities at his highschool were nothing more than one old five-aside court that they could only use on Tuesdays when the football and basketball teams were not training. So the idea that he would be training in a place such as this enthralled him. Chelsea stretched out her arms to present the building in all of its glory. 

“Look at that building, that building is your best friend. It has both our indoor courts and our sports gyms. Use it wisely, or don't, I'm not your mother.”

Roger looked the building up and down in awe. He would definitely make sure to use it wisely. He looks back at Chelsea to see she is walking away again. He had to lightly jog to catch up with her again.

The pair walked up to a set of lime green astroturf pitches, each sectioned off by thin black gates that stood twenty feet tall. Roger liked the sight of this even more. 

“These are our outdoor pitches, often used for certain training drills or just whenever you lads want to dick about in your spare time.” Chelsea said. 

“I don't have much experience playing outdoor Vincball…” said Roger, his voice singing with wonder. “God I can't wait…”

“Due to this being the first time we're making a university league we have to share some facilities with other less fortunate schools. So don't be surprised if you see any rival teams there from time to time.” Chelsea explained. 

“Alright.” he accepted. Even with that it was still a far cry better than any facilities he had ever been to in his life. 

“If you do happen to see any rival teams on here it could be a perfect opportunity to you know 'accidentally' break a few opponents, take them out...secure our place in the league.”

“Sorry?” Roger asked, giving her a worried glance. 

“I’m joking.” sighed Chelsea. “Kind of…”
Roger nodded his head warily. What an interesting woman Chelsea was…

Roger walked with Chelsea up the stairs of one of the accommodation buildings, passing dozens of students as they climbed up and eventually reached a room with the initials "RV" on them. Chelsea took out a key and unlocked the door. Before Roger could open it, Chelsea got in his face one more time. 

“I’d like to leave you with some advice, Roger Vegunbe.” Chelsea said with a wry smirk. 

“Go on.” sighed Roger. 

“You better make sure you are ready for all of this.” 

“I am definitely ready for this, I-”

“This isn’t your shitty little high school championship anymore. This is one step closer to the real deal.” Chelsea interrupted with a harsh sting in her voice. “You’re going to work yourself so hard on that court that the skin on your fingertips peel off and you’ll see the bone. You’re going to have to assimilate and you're going to have to do it quickly.”

Roger stared Chelsea in her sparkling blue eyes that shifted erratically behind her fogged glasses frames. There was a strange intensity in her look, one that Roger had not yet decided whether he loved or hated yet. He stared Chelsea down with an intense look of his own. 

“Trust me, 'assimilating' won't be an issue.” assured Roger. “You don't know how badly I want this. You couldn't possibly understand how far my desire to succeed here goes…”

A wide smile creeped across Chelsea's face as she nodded slowly. She had no more to say to Roger, simply opening the door for him, blowing him a kiss, then leaving. 

Roger entered the sparse flat-room, adorned with a king-sized bed, a polished wood desk and clothes cupboard attached to the wall across from the bed with a mirror on the door. 

Roger chuckled to himself as he sat on his new bed. He noticed his luggage had already been placed there for him by the end of the bed. He crossed his arms with a content look on his face.

That afternoon, Roger made his way to the training facilities. He entered the turquoise-wall-coloured halls of the sports centre and stepped onto the Vincball court for the first time. Before he could even enjoy the polished finish of the Vincball courts linings, his attention was drawn towards a group of players running drills together. One player stood out to him in particular. Tall, bombastic and muscular, the brunette player's presence and energy radiated off of him even in training. When Roger looked at him closer he recalled back those of the player profiles who were highlighted:

Name: Jonas Jans

Age: 19

Height: 6'4" (1.93m)

Weight: 200 lbs (91kg)

Background: Belgian-English

Position: Tank

Stats: 4 Games 2 Brawls Won

Jonas played defence against another player who had possession of the ball. The player attempted to side step him but Jonas knocked him to the ground, whilst simultaneously catching the ball as it dropped from their hands. He had taken up possession in one aggressive yet swift move and was very proud of this fact. 

“You better take that shit back to wherever it came from cause it doesn't belong on my fucking court!” gloated Jonas, laughing and jeering as he hyped himself up majorly. Roger scoffed at him. 

“Oi!” shouted the voice of a gruff woman from behind Roger. 

An older woman with leathery yet smooth brown skin, wearing a tracksuit and holding an electronic clipboard approached him. He figured out who this was quicker - Coach Maria Martinez. 

“Morning coach. I’m Rog-”

“You the new recruit?” Coach Maria asked.

“Yeah I-”

“Position?” she asked, interrupting him again. 

“Left sprinter.”

“Great. Get on the fucking court.” she ordered.  Though taken aback by her bluntness, Roger heeded her instructions and quickly joined the other players on the court. As soon as Roger had integrated himself amongst the squad of eleven or so players, Coach blew her whistle very loudly, bringing all of their attention towards her.

“Everyone, pay attention. This is Roger Vegunbe, your new left sprinter. Very talented player but this is his first week playing at this level, make sure he feels welcome on the team.” Coach Maria stated as she nodded her head towards him.

The other players either nod their heads or have no reaction a notch above nonchalance when hearing this news. The only player Roger’s arrival seemed to elicit any form of reaction from was Jonas. 

“What do you mean by our new left sprinter? What happened to Darius?” he asked in displeasure. 

“He left.” Coach answered. “Vegunbe's your left sprinter now.”

“What do you mean he left?!” asked Jonas in outrage. “Why the fu-”

“He left. End of discussion, Jonas.” Coach Marina said, hoping to shut him up. Her hopes would not be 

“You seeing this Blunt?” laughed Jonas nudging a shorter mixed-race player in the shoulders. Roger also recognised this player, he too had a highlighted profile. 

Name: Joel Blunt

Age: 18

Height: 5'8" (1.73m)

Weight: 158 lbs (72kg)

Background: Jamaican-Irish-English

Position: Alternate

Stats: 4 Games 2 Key Passes

Blunt held a melancholic look on his face and Jonas’ nudging of his shoulder only made him look even more sour. 

“You see Joel, I thought that with you we already filled our team quota for short-ass cunts over under six feet, but look we have another!”

Blunt shook his head and stared at the floor. Jonas laughed. Roger took no seconds of further consideration before opting to confront Jonas, squaring up to him with a glare. 

“I'm half the size but I guarantee I'm twice the player, you fucking neanderthal.” snarled Roger. 

“Neanderthal?” asked Jonas. 

“Yes, neanderthal. You look like a neanderthal. Do you even know what that word means, you lanky prick?” insulted Roger. Jonas spent no time trying to think of an insult back. With a boisterous anger Jonas angrily grabbed Roger by the collar, raised his other hand at him with a fist. Roger looked into his crazed eyes with no fear.

“Oi! You know the rules!” shouted Coach Maria. “Settle your fights on the court, I don't want to have to read any more shitty doctors notes.”

Jonas let go of Roger, falling in line with her orders immediately. He gestured at Blunt and a slim brooding Eastern-Asian player. 

“Right, let's run a 2v2.” suggested Jonas. “Me and Eta versus you and Blunt. How’s that sound?”

“Fine.” said Roger, voice low and quiet yet seemingly passionate and with a competitive spirit. 

Coach Maria and the other players left the court and delegated themselves to the sidelines. Roger and Blunt took one half of the court, Jonas and Eta took the other half. One of the players at the sideline held the ball that they had been using. In typical Vincball fashion, the ball was middling in size, in between the size of a tennis-ball and a small volleyball in terms of dimensions - just large enough to enter the score-box. With the ball rolled into the middle of the court, the matchup started.

 

Roger was first to reach the ball, granting him and Blunt possession. With the ball firmly within his grasp, he wanted to put on a show. First impressions last after all. 

He attempted to dazzle everyone with his footwork as he took on a defending Jonas. But as he ran past, Jonas tripped him up, sending him crashing to the floor. Jonas picked up the ball and threw to Eta who easily jumped past Blunt and threw for a goal. 1-0 to them. 

Jonas laughed and high fived Eta. Roger took the gesture to be mocking towards him, his anger bubbling up inside. 

The ball was taken to the sidelines and rolled back out for another play. This time, Eta was the first to reach it. He attempted to throw it to Jonas who tried to make a run but the ball was intercepted by Blunt. Blunt then threw a precise pass which Roger caught with no trouble.

Roger went on another run, twirled around Eta and was about to make a pass back to Blunt who ran up the court. But before he could do this Jonas charged at him with great momentum, launching him to the floor once more.

Jonas threw to Eta who threw for another goal which meant 2-0 to them and more gloating from Jonas. Roger grit his teeth in anger.

“Try to play simpler.” advised Blunt. “What you're doing looks good but isn't working too well right now.”

“Oh, yeah? Really?” Roger snapped sarcastically. 

The ball was rolled out again for another play. Roger charged towards the ball gaining possession. His thick eyebrows furrowed with grit and determination. 

Jonas rushed towards Roger but before he could reach him, Roger threw a pass to Blunt. Blunt held the ball, protecting it from Eta who marked him then sent it back to Roger after the left-sprinter found himself in space he created.

Roger caught  the ball but was faced with Jonas again. He did not fret however, smirking at him malevolently. 

He faked a pass to his left but then held onto the ball and swiftly dashed to the right. He  blazed past Jonas, who stumbled back and fell over in confusion.

The other players at the sidelines laughed and cheered at this move. This greatly pleased Roger, but deeply angered Jonas.

As Roger was about to throw for a goal, Jonas ran up behind him and grabbed a hold of his hair as he dragged him to the floor. Roger fell down like a tumbling tower, the ball dropping out of his hands so fast you would have thought he had greasy palms. He slammed his fist on the floor then leapt back up with a confronting fury.

“Did you just yank me by my fucking hair?!”

“Hey man, this is uni-level Vincball.” laughed Jonas. “Anything goes!”

Roger let his anger get the best of him, blowing Jonas in the stomach with a punch. Jonas was shocked and punched Roger back down to the ground in a jerk reaction. Roger got back on his feet, immediately taking up a fighting stance. Blunt shook his head again. 

“I don’t think you want to do this.” Blunt warned Roger. “Jonas is the main brawler in matches.”

Roger looked towards Jonas who, fists raised, had a dark malicious grin on his face. Roger put his fists down. He remembered what it said on Jonas’ profile - 4 Games 2 Brawls won. It would be better not to test him. 

“Right, I think I’ve seen enough for today.” sighed Coach Maria. “Go get changed. You all stink.”

As the players started to disperse, Jonas stopped his incessant shadow boxing. Roger maintained his glare at him regardless. Jonas also maintained his stare, but his dark malicious grin quickly started to turn into a warmer irreverent smile. 

“Glad to have you on the team, short-ass.” Jonas chuckled as he offered Roger a handshake. Roger turned his nose up at him. Jonas chuckled. “But if you ever do something like that again I won't hesitate to end your shit. Remember that.”

“I’ll try.” scoffed Roger. This amused Jonas. He gave Roger an endearing yet condescending pat on the back, then walked away.

Roger followed him and the others back into the changing room. He wiped sweat off of his forehead and sighed. 

“Anything goes.” he whispered to himself, making a mental note. 

Roger spent the next morning scribbling down accounting and economics notes within his notebook. Vincball athletes were allowed to take easy low-level courses, but Roger did not think it wise for him to do so. Whilst his life plan was to take Vincball as far as he could, he needed a backup plan in terms of employment. He could not put all his eggs in one basket, in case anything went awry. And with the way things went down in his area, he could not afford for anything to go awry. Not anything at all. 

Once done with his notes, Roger flicks to the back of the notebook where a schedule is written . He glanced at a block on his schedule that says "TRAINING - 8AM". Just the sight of the block on his schedule was enough to excite him again. 

Roger stared out of his window to see a beautiful view of the campus as the sun slowly rose.

Dressed in the kit of Maxus University Vincball, Roger made his way to the gym. The jersey was blood red with a white logo of a fire-breathing dragon on the chest and a sponsor for the “Vincball University Association” , across the torso. On the back of the jersey was his surname “VEGUNBE” and below it a large number 7. The shorts had an opposite colour scheme to the jersey, the shorts pearl white with a blood red logo of a fire-breathing dragon at the bottom. With this kit on, Roger walked with swagger and pride as he entered the weight room. 

As Roger entered the room, his eyes zoned in on a row of treadmills. All the treadmills were empty apart from one which hosted a tanned-skinned dread-locked guy who seemed way too happy for someone who was running on a treadmill. Roger knew another highlighted player profile when he saw one. This had to have been:

Name: Maaravi Rabelo

Age: 18

Height: 6'1" (1.85m)

Weight: 183 lbs (83kg)

Background: Portuguese-English

Position: Alternate

Stats: 4 Games 4 Key Runs

You are reading story Vincball at novel35.com

Roger watched as sweat trickled all over Maaravi who ran at a steady pace. He looked like he had been here for a while, which Roger found odd as when he checked his watch, he noticed training did not start for another hour and twenty minutes. 

“What are you doing here?” asked Roger, gruff yet impressed. 

“What are you doing here?” Maaravi asked him back with a laugh. 

“Wanted to get some extra training in before everyone else got here.”

“Well, that’s the answer to your question. I’m doing the same thing.”

As he ran, Maaravi took his water bottle out of the holder and squirted a large portion into his mouth. He placed it back then picked up the pace on the treadmill.

“You’ve been here for a while I’m guessing.”

“I have?” asked Maaravi. He looked down at his watch and chuckled. “Time flies, am I right?”

Maaravi turned off the treadmill and slowed down to a halt. He picked up a towel and wiped his hands clean before greeting Roger with a handshake.

“My name's Maaravi Rabelo, nice to meet you.”

“You’re the team captain right?”

“Correct. And you’re the late recruit I’m guessing. Roger…”

“Vegunbe.” Roger answered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too!” beamed Maaravi. “I couldn't make it to training the other day, I was busy at my other societies. I apologise for not meeting you earlier.”

“No, don’t worry about it. Captains gotta be busy.” said Roger. Maaravi smiled at him. An awkward silence briefly took over, until Roger chirped up again. 

“So, how is it? Being the captain of the university's first ever Vincball team that is.” Roger asked. “Must feel amazing.”

“You're right, it's quite the privilege. I'm eternally grateful.” sighed Maaravi. Though his words were positive and cheerful there was a sense of regret behind the way he spoke. Roger picked up on this but chose not to press further. Mostly because something more concerning caught his eye within the same moment. Roger glanced down at Maaravi’s sock to see spots of blood on them. 

“You're not pushing yourself too hard are you?” asked Roger, face riddled with concern. 

“No such thing, my friend.” chuckled Maaravi. Roger smiled back at him awkwardly. If this guy's biggest fault was that he was such a dedicated captain that he pushed himself too much, then Roger could deal with that.

After a few hours of weight-room sessions and court drills, training concluded and all the players had returned to the changing rooms. Roger sat in between Maaravi and Blunt on the wooden benches attached to the wall. He looked down to Blunts lap which had a notebook where he was going through a 2-2-2-1 Vincball formation.

“...and whilst they can also shoot for goals, it's best to leave that task up to the main thrower. Sprinters should focus on acting as a support, using their speed effectively yet sparingly as a system alongside the side of the court.” Blunt explained. “Alternates like me are free to roam the court but they also need to keep the connection between the sprinters and the tanks at the back who should not only focus on protecting our goal, but occasionally go up the field in case an extra pass receiver is needed.”  

Once Blunt was done with his explanation he looked back at Roger who was glaring at him in confusion. 

“Joel...sorry, Blunt. You do realise I was recruited to play at a university level on the same team as you right?” Roger asked. “I don't need to know the minutiae of the very basic mechanics of the goddamn game!”

“It doesn't hurt to remind ourselves of the fundamentals at every chance we can.” Blunt defended. 

Accompanied by his fellow tank, the large and quiet Hueng Martins, Jonas entered the changing room sweating bullets. The first thing he did when he joined the rest is smack the notebook out of Blunts hands. 

“Hey!” complained Blunt. 

“Stop polluting the new guys brain with all that basic shit!” ordered Jonas. Maaravi picked the notebook off of the floor and returned it to a grateful Blunt. 

“Come on Jonas, don’t be like that.” said Maaravi.

“Aye aye, captain,” said Jonas mockingly. Maaravi placed a hand on Blunt’s shoulder. 

“To be fair Roger and Jonas both make decent points. You get too wrapped up in the fundamentals.” Maaravi said to him. 

“The fundamentals are key! Yes they are only the building blocks but through memorisation of these blocks, you slowly and surely improve your game.” argued Blunt. 

“Ah Blunt. You really are a boring player…” chuckled Maaravi. “An effective one, but still a really really boring player.”

Jonas, Hueng and Roger all laughed at this assessment of Joel. Blunt did not find it amusing, rolling his eyes. 

“So who's the best player on the team?” Roger asked. 

“Why’d you ask?” asked Maaravi. 

“I need to know who I'm going to surpass.” said Roger letting on a cocky smile, much to the amusement of the others. “Is it you Mr. Team Captain?”

“Not quite.” Maaravi chuckled with humility. 

“Isn't it obvious? It's me!” Jonas blurted out. 

“That’s what you like to tell yourself.” snarked Blunt. 

“Fuck you!” grunted Jonas. “In all seriousness though, it’s probably Zack Caleb.”

“Zack Caleb.” Roger muttered to himself. 

That name rang a bell. In fact, it was the first of the highlighted Maxus University Vincball profiles that Roger had seen online:

Name: Zachary “Zack”  Caleb

Age: 18

Height: 6'2 ½ " (1.89m)

Weight: 187 lbs (85kg)

Background: English

Position: Thrower

Stats: 4 Games 5 Goals

In only a matter of four games, Zack Caleb had already had it clear that he was going to be something special for the game of Vincball. And despite how special he apparently was and the talk Roger had heard of him, he had not yet seen the man even once since he arrived. 

“Why haven’t I seen him around?” he asked. 

“Because he almost never comes to training.” answered Blunt. 

“Yet he’s still the best player?” asked Roger, confused. He was met with simultaneous nods which only made him even more confused. “How?”

“He's insanely talented,” said Maaravi. “ It's just that he…”

“Half-asses literally everything he fucking does.” finished Jonas.

“Exactly.” Maaravi said. Roger shifted his seated position, a slight disturbance in his body language. 

“So when do I get to meet this Zack Caleb?” he asked. 

“Whilst we can't trust him to show up to training we can trust him to show up to a night out.” Maaravi said.  “We're all hitting a campus bar tonight. He should be there.”

“Have you even been on a night out on campus yet, shortarse?” asked Jonas. 

“No, I haven’t, neanderthal.” Roger retorted. “ I've been two busy catching up on work, but  I'll come tonight.”

“You better.” ordered Jonas. “Trust me, you’ll fucking love it.”

As the boys continued to chatter away in the changing room, Coach Maria found herself within a dark storage room, across from none other than Chelsea Hannon. Chelsea 

“Ms. Hannon.” Coach Maria greeted with strict professionalism. 

“Mrs. Martinez.” Chelsea greeted back, mocking her professionalism. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“We're doing well in the league right now aren't we?” commented Coach Maria. 

“We are indeed. Watching some of those matches gives me butterflies in my…stomach.” said Chelsea as she stroked up and down her body. Coach Maria seemed disgusted by her flirtatious smirking.

“Butterflies aside, I worry we won't be able to keep it that way.”

“Is there a reason why?”

“No, but I would like you to take 'extra precautions' to make sure that things stay this way.” suggested Coach Maria. Chelsea smirked maliciously. She did not have to tell Chelsea twice, the two women were already on the same page. 

“I get you.” she said with a nod. 

“I hope you do.” said Maria sternly. “Maxus  must be the winner of the first ever university championship. It can not go any other way…”

That night, Roger, Jonas, Maaravi and Blunt walked up the stairs towards an en-suite flat room with the initials Z.C. fixed in golden letters on the door, underneath a crown. Before any of them knocked on the door a beautiful barely dressed girl walks out of it, smiling at them as she left. Roger looked to see none of the other players reacted to it as if it was a regular occurrence. 

The four boys entered his room, which was messed to all hell, the floors scattered with empty booze bottles and Vincball merchandise. Zack Caleb stood across from his wardrobe mirror, styling his handsome blonde hair with one hand and buckling his belt with another. Zack turned to see the others waiting outside the room and greeted them with a big smile. He presented himself to them, but stumbled over slightly.

“Well how do you do, boys?” said Zack, slightly slurred of speech. 

“Of course you’re drunk already!” chastised Jonas. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” laughed Zack. Jonas smirked and rolled his eyes. Zack turned his gaze away from Jonas and towards Roger

Zack walked up to Roger. He greeted him with a kiss on the forehead, much to his disgust.

“You must be our new left sprinter. Robert is it?”

“Roger.” Roger corrected. “You must be Zack Caleb.”

“Who else would I be?” scoffed Zack as he ran a hand through his hair. Roger looked him up and down, unimpressed.

“This is the best our university has to offer?” Roger asked Maaravi. Maaravi shrugged. 

“Course I am. Read the headlines - Once in a generation talent.” Zack gloated.  “I'm a human goldmine.”

“Alright, try not to suck your own cock too much.” Jonas grunted. 

“Why are one of you gonna do it for me?” joked Zack “How about you Maaravi? You look really good by the way.”

“Appreciate it Zack.”

“And so does Jonas.” said Zack. “As does Mr. Left Sprinter and as does Blunt-, actually nevermind.”

Once again the boys laughed at a remark made at Blunt’s expense. And once again he just rolled his eyes and tried to move past it. 

“Enough of this, can we go already? It's going to take forever to get our drink orders if we show up late.” Blunt complained. 

“Yeah, we better hurry up. Blunty needs his fix.” joked Jonas. 

“After you then.”

After a short five-minute walk the five teammates found themselves within the crowded fluorescent-glowing interior of the Kenzdale Bar establishment. Led by Zack the group parted their way through the crowds of dancing and raving students. 

 As they pass by a group of women, one of them chooses to dance near Zack seductively. She pulled him in for a kiss to which he graciously accepted, but after the kiss he released himself from her grasp and continued walking with the boys. He took them towards a different group of women and started dancing with them. Soon enough the two groups intermingled. Despite his status and popularity at the time, Roger had never been much of a party-goer in highschool, but he assessed that he could definitely get used to this type of attention. 

Later on in the night, Maaravi, Blunt and Jonas had gone down to the bar to get more drinks. At a table a few metres away sat Zack and Roger, accompanied by a series of attractive women.

“So how's your life as a university athlete so far?” Zack asked.

Roger smiled at the two women accompanying him then looked back towards Zack with an enthusiastic grin on his face.

“Exactly what I expected.” chuffed Roger. Zack nodded his head as he took a sip of his drink.

“You're yet to experience the Vincball Paradox then aren't you?”

“Vincball Paradox?” 

Zack put down his drink then leaned  into Roger, trying to speak over the loud music in the building.

“Basically, with you, me, Maaravi, Jonas and the others, due to us being the first class of athletes at this university to play the relatively new, highly controversial sport we know and love,we are the most unpopular popular people you can find.”

“Unpopular popular people?” asked Roger. 

“Yes.” confirmed Zack. “In some ways we're greatly loved. Like so...

Zack gestures at the many women that surround them.

“But in other ways, we're  just as hated.”

Roger looked over to see  Maaravi and Blunt trying to calm down Jonas at the bar as he argued with a group of rugby players. Zack laughed.

“Well that's conveniently proved my point. How's that for timing?”

Roger and Zack leave the table to inspect the commotion at the bar.

“Who do you think you are?” asked  a short yet burly rugby player. 

“We got here first!” argued Blunt. “So-”

“So you can go fuck yourselves.” Jonas finished. The leader of the dozen rugby boys obnoxiously scoffed at Jonas, trying to hide how slightly intimidated he was by his size.

“Newsflash pricks! Athletes get served first!” argued the rugby boy. 

“We know, we are athletes.” Maaravi retorted with a calm voice. The rugby boys laughed in his face. 

“Just because you play a fancy netball for lads doesn't mean you're actual athletes!” mocked the rugby leader. Roger and Zack arrived at the scene in time to realise what was about to happen. 

“What?!” Jonas said, bursting with rage. With a prod of his finger he jammed the rugby boy in the forehead.  “Go on, say that again! See what happens to you…”

The rugby boy simply swatted Jonas’ finger away, but this was all the reason Jonas needed to start a fight. In a matter of seconds the two teams of players were brawling with one another. Zack was quick to join Jonas in punching jaws and knucking skulls with a smile on his face. Roger and Maaravi were hesitant at first but eventually felt the need to join in. Blunt and two of the rugby players on the team try to break up the fights, but to no avail.

The two sports teams' fists of fury disrupted the fun night that the other attendees were having with the dancefloor dispersing as Maxus students screamed and fled the scene. The bartender at the bar had seen enough.

“Right!” he bellowed, a thunderous scream if ever they heard one. “All of you can either stop now or you can be permanently banned from coming in here. Your choice!”

The two groups slowly stopped fighting, though with a measured reluctance about them. The bartender grunted with frustrated relief. 

“Good. Now, I'll serve the Rugby boys first, then the Vincball boys. Okay?”

The main rugby boy gloated at Jonas, sticking his tongue out at him. Zack struggled to hold Jonas back.

With those who remained in the bar staring at both groups with shame, Roger decided that it was best for him to just go home. They had embarrassed themselves enough. 

“The life of a college Vincball player.” Roger scoffed to himself. 

 

Hundreds of people sat in the crowds of the biggest indoor Vincball court the university had to offer, a room bustling with excitement with enough fans watching to fill a small stadium. 

From the dugouts of the changing rooms a group of cheerleaders came out onto the court and put on a performance of which the crowd cheered with feverish passion. Rogers' head peeked out from the enclosed changing rooms as he looked towards the crowd, astonished by the sheer number of people who came to watch their team. He was used to crowds, but not ones like this.  

He turned to see a full camera crew show up to film the game. Roger watched it all unfold with a twinkle in his eye.

Two reporters stood in front of a man with a handheld camera who broadcasts the match, a blonde male and a brunette female both in matching navy blue suits. 

“It's game five of thirty in the very first year of university Vincball and an exciting gameday at that isn't it?” said the male reporter. 

“Very exciting indeed.” agreed the female reporter. “We are at the home grounds of Maxus University who have had a great start to the season with one draw and three wins underneath their belts.”

“A very good record but we have to keep in mind that they've only played against two of the lowest ranked universities in the league and scraped one goal wins against two middle of the table teams.” informed the male reporter. “Shouldn't we be expecting more of Maxus?”

“We should, and if they want to prove it to us all, now's the time to do so as they go up against their rival school - The University of Factum.”

“If I was a betting man I'd put it on a Factum win. That being said, I'm not writing off Maxus immediately. They have top scorer Caleb who along with team captain Rabelo are both on form as of late.” 

“As well as a new #7 in Roger Vegunbe, who is set to play his first ever university level match.” added the female reporter. 

“Very excited to see Vegunbe in action. Will those highschool records of his hold up against the big boys?” pondered the male reporter. “Tune in and find out!”

Roger’s heart beat with a furious force. They were about to find out what he was capable of. 

Roger scoped out the opposing team on the other end of the court, stood just outside the dugouts that lead to their changing room. The University of Factum players wore black jersey’s with a gold tiger as their logo and like Maxus’ their shorts swapped the colours. When he saw them, Roger felt his chest tightening as if air was being syphoned out of it. It always did that when he was about to do something dangerous or important. Or both.

This is all that truly mattered now. Proving himself on the court. 

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