On William’s right was Priest Quisac. On his left, Yax sat in an elegant throne decorated with elaborate carvings of scenes from the games. Teshna was seated beside Yax. The empty seat to her left awaited Betty’s arrival.
The two zebra-painted ceremonial priests appeared at the northern and southern entrances of the ballcourt, waving their incense burners as they went. They advanced until they met one another at the center of the court, turned to face the King, and kneeled briefly before continuing with their prayers.
William was excited to watch the ancient ball game. He had seen many ballcourts while visiting Mayan ruins with his family, but nobody could ever tell him for sure how the game was played. Now he would be the first-from his time-to find out. “Where are the players?” he asked Yax.
“Our team prepares behind the western wall, near the northern entrance,” he said, pointing to the other side of the ballcourt across from them. “They must make offerings to the gods to open a pathway through the scoring ring. The players from Kinichna are behind the wall where we sit, near the southern entrance.”
Teshna looked over to William and noticed his troubled expression. “What bothers you, Balam? Are you not enjoying the ceremonies?” she asked.
William tried to find the right words to convey his concern, without offending their rituals. “Is it true that the losing team is sacrificed?”
Yax and Teshna looked puzzled. “Of course not, Balam,” Teshna said. “Where did you hear such nonsense?”
“Is this what they do in your land,” Yax asked. “Would that please you?”
“No, definitely not!” William said, waving his hands. He pointed at the image on the side of the King’s chair. “Then what’s with this carving…. of a man holding his severed head?”
“It is symbolic,” the Serpent Priest said, “of the death of one’s lower self. Great wisdom can be achieved through the games. Those who compete have earned this privilege.”
Seven players from each team entered from the northern and southern entrances wearing thick padding around their waists and shoulders, helmets made out of armadillo skin on their heads, and decorative boots on their feet. They bowed to one another in the center of the court.
“Our team wears a white sash around their waist, to honor the north,” Yax said. “Kinichna wears a yellow sash, for the south.”
Honac-Fey entered the ballcourt from the northern entrance, carrying a large black ball. He was dressed in a white feathered cape and wore a headdress that looked like a hawk was nesting on his head. At the southern entrance another man entered, wearing a yellow feathered cape. They met at the center and bowed to the King. Honac-Fey placed the ball on the court before he and the other caped man made their way out. The white owl soared across the ballcourt and landed on Honac-Fey’s shoulder as he departed.
Yax clasped his hands together, causing several seashell trumpets to break the silence. The game began with a cheer of approval from the spectators, and the two teams took their positions across from each other in the middle of the court.
The captain from the Kinichna team rolled the ball up the slanted wall toward the opponent’s side. It bounced once on the ground, and a player from Dzibanche kicked it high with his knee back to the other side. A Kinichna player popped it up with his hip to his teammate. He hit the ball with his head, maneuvering it closer to their scoring side.
The scrimmage went back and forth for several minutes, with the players whacking the ball with their heads, shoulders, hips, and knees. At times, the ball made its way to the eastern and western extremes of the court, where the players positioned themselves up the ramps and attempted to hit the scoring ring.
The Kinichna team maneuvered the ball up the ramp on their scoring side of the court, and with a good bump from a player’s knee, the ball hit the outer rim of the ring. A low-pitched blast from seashell trumpets celebrated the score.
The flash of an igniting torch drew William’s attention at the southern end of the ballcourt. He looked closer and noticed six unlit torches beside it. There was a similar collection of torches at the northern end as well.
“It is the method for keeping score,” Priest Quisac explained. “To win, the team must hit their scoring ring seven times. However, if the ball passes directly through the ring-a rare occurrence-victory is immediate.”
Another cheer from the crowd drew William’s attention back to the game. Kinichna seemed to be playing more aggressive, ramming their shoulders and hips hard into the heavy ball to keep it positioned closer to their scoring ring.
After nearly an hour, four scoring torches had been lit for Kinichna, and only one for Dzibanche. Three loud drum beats signaled a resting period, and the two teams went to their northern and southern extremes. When the Dzibanche players exited, Honac-Fey handed them drinks. Likewise, the man in the yellow feathered cape provided refreshments to the Kinichna players.
The game resumed. Dzibanche had acquired a good position when one of the players lost his balance, stumbled, and fell face-first to the hard plaster floor. The ball rolled to a stop beside him, as his teammates rushed to his side.
A hush fell over the ballcourt. Yax stood with a worried look, as Honac-Fey moved in with several servants to carry the hurt player away on a litter. Honac-Fey looked up to Yax. “My Lord, the player has taken ill and cannot continue,” he said in a commanding voice for all to hear, emphasizing his words with animated arm movements.
The man in the yellow cape-who William learned was the Governor of Kinichna-entered as well. “Lord Stone Frog,” the Kinichna Governor said, addressing Yax with his formal Mayan name, “the game cannot be continued short of seven players. A replacement must be chosen… someone deserving of the honor.”
“I see no other choice than Balam…” Honac-Fey said with a surreptitious glance to the Kinichna Governor.
William flinched upon hearing his name. He shot his attention over to Yax, hoping he would not agree.
The King studied William for a moment and then spoke to the entire assembly. “You are correct, Honac-Fey, there is no other who has earned the right to play in the games… but only if Balam agrees.”
William was about to decline, but then Honac-Fey raised his hands to the crowd and began chanting,
“Balam, Balam, Balam.” The spectators joined in, chanting his name in chorus.
“Oh, crap,” William muttered, realizing that he didn’t have much choice in the matter. If he chickened out, it would be embarrassing to Yax. However, his decision to play was mostly due to Teshna’s admiring stare; he couldn’t let her down. When William stood, the crowd let out a rowdy cheer.
“Be alert, Balam,” Priest Quisac said with a concerned look, as William was escorted away.
William felt ridiculous in the uniform they made him wear: heavy-duty sandals with decoratively studded support bands buckled on his calves, protective pads attached to his knees, elbows, hips, and shoulders, and a goofy helmet strapped to his head.
As he reached the center of the ballcourt, he felt a wave of butterflies. The seashell trumpets sounded and the game resumed. At first, William felt a little bunglesome running around in his clumsy gear, trying to get the feel for the game. When the ball finally came his way, William positioned himself to hit it, but two Kinichna players rushed in at the same moment and rammed their shoulders into his chest, knocking him to the ground, as they intercepted the ball. Kinichna bumped it to their side, and they scored again. The fifth torch lit up at the southern end of the ballcourt.
Play resumed. Dzibanche maneuvered the ball to their scoring side, and William bumped it with his shoulder, barely missing the goal. Luckily, a teammate was there for the rebound, hitting the ball with his knee against the edge of their scoring ring. The spectators rejoiced with their team’s third score; another torch burned at the Dzibanche end of the court.