Dogberry “Wildman” Edmund was a giant of a man. He had physical attributes I could only dream off for the others. He was excellent in Heading, Long shots, and finishing which were ten, nine and eleven. The rest was not pretty, but I could teach it to him to a certain extent. Where the man shone was his physique. If his size and the sixteen in strength were any indications, I pitied any defender trying to hold his shirt. His jumping reach being twelve being handy. The man was another three-point nine.

I laughed. I felt that this diva would be a handful for a whole other reason than the usual egomaniacs. He was the meat shield in the front. Someone to protect the ball until golden-maned artisans or a poacher found an opportunity to take part. But how to tell a man who could kill you with his bare fists he should work more on his First touch attribute? Instead of his biceps. That if he couldn’t pass for shit, it didn’t matter he held onto the ball a nice long time. Or that if he didn’t have the technique to control the ball when it came he had no use. Fun stuff. I rather screamed at them they should run faster. but only Kenzie Meza could outrun this meat suit called Wildman. I shook my head and put him on the yes please pile.

Almost done. One more player for the starting team. It should be someone that complemented the big fellow. A sneaky bastard who would turn up in front of the keeper with no one noticing. So they should be fast, great off the ball with good vision and anticipation. Good technique and first touch. Should be able to finish it…

I was setting my goals too high again. Over the course of the selection, they had surprised me too many times. So many hidden qualities in some of these players I was now dreaming of a true and magnificent player. I sighed, let’s hope there was something not complete crap.

“Little human. Please select me a person who has an eight or above in acceleration, pace, and finishing.” I said, crossing my finger I could catch this final break so I could complete my team.

Little human seemed to process that for a moment before stating, “No such players found. Sorry Old Bastard.”

I pursed my lips. Thinking. They kind of were minimal requirements. Yet physique was easier trained than a nose for scoring goals.

“Please try a six or above in acceleration and pace, and a nine in finishing.” I whispered to Little human, sweat pouring from the top of my head again.

Little human stood still for an agonizing five seconds. Then he walked towards the furthest piece of paper and picked it up. I let go of the breath I was holding in and wiped my hand over my head to get rid of the sweat. I threw a look toward the crumpled papers in the corner and grimaced. No time to celebrate yet. The list of things that could still fuck this all up was longer than the list of positives.

Little human came back, holding the paper in front of his tiny body. When it arrived in front of me I picked the paper up, Little human still attached, and turned the page.

I whispered, “Ardala Blois. Age, twenty years... yadda yadda yadda. Description, Ardala grew up in the suburbs of New Paris where she learned the trading business from her father. Her father was a smuggler who pressed the issue of never getting caught. Telling her she should always show the will to win over her fellow crew members as it brought fewer risks of getting caught. Football was more of a hobby…“ Not ideal, but nothing too bad either…

I looked at her attributes. The things I searched for were spot on. Again, not ideal but workable. The rest had some nice surprises and some nasty setbacks. Like Anticipation being a beautiful eleven and Off the ball a nine. The six in Vision was worrisome while the one in Bravery kind of funny. A two in Heading was an absolute disgrace for a striker and would need some serious work. The big surprise came through her eleven in leadership though. That was great, together with her age I was hoping she would take responsibility and take the lead in the group. She was a decent three point four on average.

I didn’t know how I felt about giving a born and raised smuggler the role of team captain. But considering that the rest did not go over a six in Leadership she was good enough for now.

Putting her on the Yes please pile I felt enthusiasm creep into me. I found a team. It was almost time for the next step. It felt amazing.

Riley choose that time to come in and announce her presence with a tired “Morning,” and sat down on the bench next to me. Seconds too late to avoid punishment.

I looked at her as a small smile crept onto my face. This little bird thought she could come and go whenever she wanted didn’t she? Not on my watch. I coughed a little and then stood up, going to the papers still on the floor. One by one I scanned them and piled them onto each other. When I finished I had a clear idea who we should pick as substitutes for the remaining positions. But for now that didn’t matter. Teaching the brat not to fuck around was more important.

I walked with the pile in hand towards the girl, stood in front of her and said, “Hold out your hands.”

She looked at me sheepishly, still waking up even though it was already eight in the morning. After some processing time, she did as I asked and held her arms out. The moment she did, I let go of the pile and let it fall into her arms. Or at least that was the plan. The pile shifted in mid-air and dropped through her outstretched arms. Onto the ground, the neat pile falling into chaos again. Well, this was fine. It looked like a dick move but who was I to bother with how it looked like.

She kept staring at me, a look in her eyes as if not acknowledging what I did, arms still stretched out.

I coughed again, this time not for theatrics but embarrassment and said “Clean that up. Then pick a substitute for our sweeper. Then a midfielder who can replace Casper and Bruno, and one who can replace Audrey. Then one striker that is acceptable at Finishing, an ‘I can do anything you want but not well’ for the rest of his stats. Don’t select questionable characteristics either. I know for a fact that there is a fellow in there who thinks aliens are real. Another one who thinks lizard people from another dimension took over the government. Don’t select them. If you do, I will let Dogberry use you as a dumbbell for a week.” I scratched my chin thinking of anything else that could be important but couldn’t think of any.

“Questions?” I asked her.

She had let her arms fall to her sides again halfway through my request and was now looking to the pile on the ground. She looked back up, a dumb look on her face “Where are you going then?”

I smiled at her, patted her head, then turned around to leave.

“I will ask our mustached friend how I can make fitness equipment and some general stuff like cones out of wood. Need to prepare. Have fun.” I said and waved while walking through the door. Hearing a soft “What?” Coming from inside. The girl was not a morning person. Let’s hope she could still use her brain or I had to beat her with a stick.