Galy?” She nodded discourteously. She preferred “Ms. Gurtan” or nothing. She hated it when people called her by her first name. “We’ve been doing this in the middle of this arena for the past five years. You’ve always had some kind of personal and inappropriate question about my life. You’ve never really seemed interested in the game itself, my performance, or how well I thought my team backed me up. They’ve deserved to be here on your fine station way more than I have. Yet that never seemed to happen.”
She looked worried, but she maintained her faked professionalism, “Your fans want to know about you, and who better than Galy Gurtan the girl who can get you behind the curtain, to inform them?”
“Right you are. And as a starter for the Bathesda Boom my contract dictated that I answer your pointed, invasive, and obnoxious questions.” She balked. My grin widened, “As of the zero there on that countdown clock, I no longer have a contract stating such.” I grabbed an almost emptied bottle filled with water and backwash from a nearby fan, tipped it over, and dumped it on her head. “So I believe my response to your inane line of questioning tonight is: No Comment .”
The crowd surged with cheers as I left her speechless to glare at the fans who were pointing and laughing. Her cameraman chuckled and high-fived me as I walked past him. She ran away screaming as a shower of soda, water, and beer rained down from celebrating onlookers who got in on the pouring-action I had started.
I headed toward the locker room where my girl was waiting to start my last civilian night on the town. Before I left the field, I turned, saluted the still screaming fans, and with a tear welling up in my eye, I left Boom Arena by taking off my “01” jersey. I handed it to a mother and her son waving at me from just above the player’s gate. She thanked me, and wrapped her kid in my shirt.
The crowd erupted once more with the loudest blast yet. Everybody wanted to be me, and honestly, how could I blame them? My life was nothing short of being enchanted.
CAPTAIN AGAIN
Departure day for the newly enlisted was typically a rather public affair involving train stations, crying family members, and soldier-processing that turned a man into just a number. A number to be berated by instructors, tortured with endless waiting, and prodded with painful medical procedures. All of that precedes the really fun process that breaks that man or woman down into the perfect Bathesdan fighting unit in the desert vacation spot we like to call “Bootcamp.”
That is not how my day went.
Star and I had been picked up just before lunch by General Wyld’s limousine. We were escorted to the top of the military spire where we dined in the officer’s lounge with some of the most decorated officers on Bathesda. I got a few nods of recognition, a couple of handshakes, and I was even asked to sign some autographs. Later, Star and I enjoyed a military-guided air tour of the city, before we finally landed at a small outpost just outside the local training complex located at the tip of the West Desert where Bootcamp was located.
The small outpost was well-furnished but without all the frills we enjoyed earlier at the Spire’s OC. Star and I were left alone to wait. We redeemed our dwindling time together to watch the sands of the West Desert blow plumes of sugardust by the window. The dancing sands held her distracted gaze. I was content to hold her hand and daydream about our future.
“You’ve been quiet today,” I said trying to stay in the here and now. “Are you going to be okay?”
She smiled. Her face warmed the cold military-steel décor of the room. “I will be. I’m just looking forward to the end of this. I’ll be so happy when we can finally move on with our lives.”
“I think about it every day,” I assured her. “I’d retire from a thousand Laser Ball teams if it meant getting to spend every second of the
She looked worried, but she maintained her faked professionalism, “Your fans want to know about you, and who better than Galy Gurtan the girl who can get you behind the curtain, to inform them?”
“Right you are. And as a starter for the Bathesda Boom my contract dictated that I answer your pointed, invasive, and obnoxious questions.” She balked. My grin widened, “As of the zero there on that countdown clock, I no longer have a contract stating such.” I grabbed an almost emptied bottle filled with water and backwash from a nearby fan, tipped it over, and dumped it on her head. “So I believe my response to your inane line of questioning tonight is: No Comment .”
The crowd surged with cheers as I left her speechless to glare at the fans who were pointing and laughing. Her cameraman chuckled and high-fived me as I walked past him. She ran away screaming as a shower of soda, water, and beer rained down from celebrating onlookers who got in on the pouring-action I had started.
I headed toward the locker room where my girl was waiting to start my last civilian night on the town. Before I left the field, I turned, saluted the still screaming fans, and with a tear welling up in my eye, I left Boom Arena by taking off my “01” jersey. I handed it to a mother and her son waving at me from just above the player’s gate. She thanked me, and wrapped her kid in my shirt.
The crowd erupted once more with the loudest blast yet. Everybody wanted to be me, and honestly, how could I blame them? My life was nothing short of being enchanted.
CAPTAIN AGAIN
Departure day for the newly enlisted was typically a rather public affair involving train stations, crying family members, and soldier-processing that turned a man into just a number. A number to be berated by instructors, tortured with endless waiting, and prodded with painful medical procedures. All of that precedes the really fun process that breaks that man or woman down into the perfect Bathesdan fighting unit in the desert vacation spot we like to call “Bootcamp.”
That is not how my day went.
Star and I had been picked up just before lunch by General Wyld’s limousine. We were escorted to the top of the military spire where we dined in the officer’s lounge with some of the most decorated officers on Bathesda. I got a few nods of recognition, a couple of handshakes, and I was even asked to sign some autographs. Later, Star and I enjoyed a military-guided air tour of the city, before we finally landed at a small outpost just outside the local training complex located at the tip of the West Desert where Bootcamp was located.
The small outpost was well-furnished but without all the frills we enjoyed earlier at the Spire’s OC. Star and I were left alone to wait. We redeemed our dwindling time together to watch the sands of the West Desert blow plumes of sugardust by the window. The dancing sands held her distracted gaze. I was content to hold her hand and daydream about our future.
“You’ve been quiet today,” I said trying to stay in the here and now. “Are you going to be okay?”
She smiled. Her face warmed the cold military-steel décor of the room. “I will be. I’m just looking forward to the end of this. I’ll be so happy when we can finally move on with our lives.”
“I think about it every day,” I assured her. “I’d retire from a thousand Laser Ball teams if it meant getting to spend every second of the
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