"I will not be defeated by you!"
Instantly Tank picked up the ball and kicked it to himself. Clutching the ball to his well defined chest and gritting his teeth, he picked his path and started to run. Most of the opposition were busy slapping each other on the back, having already mentally won the game. Only a handful were aware of what was happening, and all of them closed in on Tank, eyes filled with malice for what he was about to attempt. The Salisbridge players watched aghast at what the young dragon was trying to do. What else could they do? There were just a handful of seconds left now; the game, for all intents and purposes, was over. While he hadn't achieved quite enough momentum to reach what he considered to be his full speed, he was certainly moving quite quickly, something the first opponent to reach him found to his cost, as he bounced clumsily off Tank's right shoulder. As the primal fire burned brightly throughout him, he could just make out the try line through the mass of bodies and limbs that stood in his way. Able to make out every blade of grass, every tiny fleck of paint, through just the centre of his eye line, his peripheral vision was just a dull blackness. A tiny smile stretched across his beaten face, as he knew in mere moments he was going to plonk the ball down on that wonderful painted piece of turf. Deep inside his head his mind screamed at him,
"NOW!"
As everyone watched, he knew exactly what he had to do.
In mid run, he put all of his effort into jumping, and leapt for all he was worth, his knees protesting beyond belief, but they held firm and helped him get the launch he needed. Not a light fellow, quite the opposite in fact, he did have muscles made of his favourite laminium ball player... STEEL! And when he wanted them to work, boy did they work. With opponents rushing towards him, even they were too shocked to react as he sailed between their heads, ball held out in front of him, concentrating on nothing more than putting it down across that sacred line. Time stood still for Tank, who savoured the shocked and distressed faces of the dirty players he and his teammates had been battling against for nearly eighty minutes. Abruptly, time returned as he found himself hurtling towards the ground at quite a rate. He knew beyond any doubt that his landing was not going to be very pleasant. How right he was. The ball, followed closely by Tank's all but numb fingers, and then the rest of his body, hit the grass just the other side of the try line. Tank tumbled head over heels, his body having finally reached breaking point. As his eyes started to close, he could just make out the referee's whistle shrieking through the air and knew that it had all been worthwhile.
Along with all the other home supporters, Peter and Richie screamed their heads off as the referee blew his whistle and signalled that Tank had scored the try of his life. To a man, the Salisbridge players went mad, jumping up and down, hugging each other, high fives, fist bumps... the lot. That is until they realised that Tank hadn't moved since he'd hit the ground. Instantly the Salisbridge physio was at Tank's side, moving his teammates out of the way. Richie and Peter looked on anxiously, worried for their friend. While all of this happened, the official in charge blew his whistle for full time, but the match was not finished yet. With Tank's try, the game stood at 19-20, but if Salisbridge managed to kick the conversion, they would win 21-20. It was a nail biting finish to a very unusual game. After the most tense three or four minutes both teams had ever experienced, Tank was finally helped to his feet by the physio and three of his teammates. With his arms around their shoulders, he managed to get back to the home team's dugout and sit down. Silence enveloped the pitch, the crowd and the players, as Hatchet Hammond placed the ball on the ground, directly in front of the posts. Tank knew the kick should be a sure thing, but with all the waiting around, even he could feel the pressure his teammate must have been under. Having taken a few steps back, Hammond made his run up, kicked the ball cleanly and watched it fly straight between the posts. Turning around towards his own dugout, he took a bow. With the exception of Tank and the physio, the whole team sprinted over to Hammond and mobbed him. Peter, Richie and the rest of the crowd cheered wildly as the ball sailed between the posts, the referee signalling the conversion had been good, with the game finishing 21-20 to Salisbridge.
Taking a very shallow breath, as that was pretty much all he could do, a deep seated satisfaction washed over him as he observed the opposition trudge off towards their dressing room. All he could think was that they got exactly what they deserved. Gingerly he got to his feet, and with a little help from the physio, he followed the rest of the team to the changing rooms, hoping that the celebrations which he knew would follow, would not be beyond him. As he left the pitch, Richie and Peter waited anxiously by the door to the changing rooms, determined to check on their friend's wellbeing. As Tank approached, he shook off the physio and hobbled over to them. Richie opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Tank waved away her concerns.
"I'm fine guys... honest," Tank puffed, looking like he'd been thrown to the lions.
Richie looked up into his wreck of a face, examining each and every bruise that crisscrossed it, before leaning close and whispering in his ear.
"Do you want me to cast a quick healing mantra?"
Tank shook his head, surprised by the level of pain the small movement sent shooting down his back.
"Thanks for the offer Rich, but I'll struggle through for now and then cast one on myself when I get home."
"Sure?" she asked.
"Sure," he replied, managing the faintest of smiles.
Tank looked across at Peter, who stood, arms folded, next to the changing room door, unconvinced by Tank's claims of being fine.
"As you know, I'm not really a rugby fan, but that was... FANTASTIC!" he announced.
"Yeah," replied Tank dreamily. "I can honestly say I've never played in a game quite like it."
Peter smiled, recognising in Tank the same dedication that both he and Richie had to their respective sports.
"Anyway," said Tank, clutching at his clearly painful ribs, "you'll have to excuse me, I desperately need a shower, and a beer afterwards. So I'll see you in the bar shortly." With that, he turned and limped off.
Both friends made their way through to the pleasantly warm bar, with the rest of the evening turning into a pretty much normal Saturday for them. Of course, it was normal for when Peter was playing hockey, something he hadn't done in months, and was more determined than ever to return to full fitness and play some part in the remaining games of the season for the second team. It wasn't long before the three friends ended up playing rowdy games with the rugby teams, with Tim and Janice joining in for a short time. Peter found that for some reason, he was uncomfortable with Janice in front of his friends, something he hoped she hadn't picked up on. Whether or not it was the whole dragon relationship thing, he really didn't know, but vowed to think long and hard about it. Later that evening, they all left the sports club together, Janice heading home in her cherished pink mini, but not before giving Peter a passionate kiss goodbye. Tim and Richie headed off in his BMW, not before Richie instructed Peter to make sure that Tank had cast that healing mantra on himself. Peter helped Tank climb into his car, rugby kit and all, and headed back to Tank's house to drop off his friend. During the journey, Tank cast a healing mantra that Peter had never heard of before, one that seemed to have amazing properties. While the bruising and damage to his face remained, Tank seemed to be well on his way to being healed, as he jumped out of Peter's car able to sling his rugby kit over his giant shoulders, something he certainly couldn't have done at the sports club. Waving his friend goodbye, watching him skip up the garden path with the huge kit bag, Peter smiled to himself, started the car, and headed for home, marvelling at the wonderful time he'd had in the company of not only his two best friends, but these thrilling humans as well.