>Be First Down, cream coated pegasus mare, 19 years old, and MVP of your school's hoofball team.
>Your waiting on a letter...
>...
>This is taking too long.
>It shouldn't take this long!
>You think to yourself, sitting nervously at your own door, fiddling with your wings as you stare intently at the slim mail slot.
>The mailmare never runs late. Never!
>And out of all the days she does, it's the day when you will potentially receive the biggest news of your life!
>And all you can do is wait.
>...
>......
>............
"Guh! Why isn't she here yet!"
>"Calm down sweetie, she'll make her delivery like she always does."
>Your dad idlely shushes you from his chair in the living room, paying more attention to this morning's paper than your o' so harrowing plight.
"She should be here by now! What if doesn't come?"
>"Well then you'll just have to wait another day, won't you."
"Another day! I'd sooner strike myself with lighting than wait another minute!"
>As you say this, your mother walks into the hallway with a pout on her face.
>"Don't say things like that honey, or they just might happen."
>She emphasizes her point with a light bop on your nose.
"Sorry mom."
>She puts a reassuring wing around your shoulders.
>"I know your nervous Downey, but you just have to be patient. There's nothing to worry about."
>Except there is.
>Your future!
>You had sent a letter to none other than your local EHF team, the Manehattan Zephyrs, for a spot at their spring tryouts this year.
>They accepted your request and you got to participate in the tryouts, showing off your skills and strutting your stuff.
>Not to toot your own horn or anything, but you weren't named hoofball MVP of the Manehattan scholastic league for nothing.
>You were one of the best runningbacks of the greater Manehattan area, and definitely the best of your school.
>You gave it your all at the tryouts, but there's no way to know for sure if you made the cut.
>Not until you get this letter.
>This damned letter.
 
>You've been waiting for almost an hour and still no letter.
>It's really getting to you.
>What if you didn't make the cut?
>Maybe they don't even bother to send you a letter if you failed!
>They just leave you high and dry, wondering if you should just give up on hope.
>How rude.
>Giving up on waiting, you limp over to the living room with your father and flop on the couch with a groan and a sigh.
>Dad looks at you with concern and puts down his paper.
>"Hey, cheer up buttercup. You'll get something from them eventually. These ponies are professionals, they wouldn't send you nothing if you didn't make the cut. They'd send it in big, bold, red letters on the front of the envelope that say NOT ACCEPTED. Like college!"
"Not helping dad..."
>"Why, do you know how many rejection letters I got before I could join the Rainbow Falls Thunderball team!?"
>Oh please, not more of Dad's Thunderball stories.
>You loved them when you were younger, but they started to lose their magic after you heard the whole gambit of them for the upteenth time.
>As he continues down the nostalgia train, you curl up on the couch with a pillow firmly wrapped around your ears and facing the front door again.
>You keep staring at the mail slot, hoping something will come through, but it looks like it was not meant to be.
>Your eyes lose focus and slowly drift away from the door, when something moves at the corner of your vision.
>You focus back on the door, but nothing seems to have changed.
>The slot is still closed.
>Poo.
>Your eyes drift down in despair toward the mail basket under the slot.
>Still as bare as the day Mom bought---
>Wait a minute.
>There's mail in it...
>Shit! There's mail in it!
 
>You basically fall over yourself trying to get to the mail basket.
>Searching through the stack of bills, magazines, and junk mail, you finally find your little nugget of gold.
>An envelope, emblazoned with the red and blue Zephyr's logo on the back in all it's glory.
>Just staring at it is giving you chills and nausea at the same time.
>In your stupor, you fail to notice your parents come in behind you and your mother lean over your shoulder.
>"Oh! It's your letter honey! Come into the living room so we can read it."
>Your guided back to the couch by your mom and dad, and you all plop yourselves down in the cushions together.
>The letter just sits in your hooves and your eyes refuse to look away from it, afraid that it might simply poof out of existence.
>Dad nudges you.
>"Well come on champ, open the darned thing! You didn't have an aneurysm to just look at it did you?"
>Dad's right. Time to find out what they said.
>You open up the envelope and take out the letter.
>It's a very corporate-y type letter. No surprise there.
>Lots of thanks for joining the tryouts this, supporting the Zephyr's franchise that, and being a loyal fan yadda yadda yadda.
>You eat it up though.
>Drinking in every sentence as you read down the letter.
>Pretty soon you find the paragraph your looking for.
>They mention you by name.
>A good sign.
>Thank you for coming to the tryout.
>Okay.
>Say they're very impressed with your skills and tenacity.
>Alright that's something!
>But, the main roster positions have been filled.
>...Oh.
 
>You screech to a halt at that sentence.
>You didn't make the roster.
>The positions have been filled by other ponies.
>A glum feeling takes over your mood as you just stare at the paper.
>Your parents take notice of this change and voice their concern.
>There's still a little more of the letter to read, so you ignore them to continue on.
>And you see light at the end of the tunnel
>--However, the coach was still very impressed with your tryout and the accolades you have won during your time in school. Your very young to be entering the league, but we want to see you hone your talents, become a great hoofball player, and be a part of our team. For this reason we are placing you on our practice/reserve roster for the time being. After a season with us, we'll see how you developed and possibly add you to the main roster. So let me be the first to say, welcome to the Manehattan Zephyrs!--
>Holy shit.
"Holy shit."
>"First Down!"
>You get a slap to the flank from your mother.
>"Watch your language young lady!"
>Dad chimes in.
>"Yeah, just because you didn't make the team doesn't mean you can-"
"Mom! Dad! I made the team!"
>"...Huh?"
>Your parents stare dumbfounded for a second, but when you show them the letter, their expressions turn from confusion to pride and excitement.
>Your mom immediately grabs you in a bear hug, followed by your dad.
>"Ooooooo! My little Downey is going to be a professional hoofball player!"
>Yeah! That's my daughter!"
>Dad gives you a playful noogie.
>"I mean, it's no Thunderball...
"Haha, Dad please!"
>"But regardless, I'm so proud of you honey."
"Thanks Dad. Thanks Mom."
>You and your family stay in a group hug for a little longer before breaking up.
>Mom suggests you all go out and celebrate the good news with a trip to the Cantering Cook downtown.
>You and dad heartily agree.
 
>Be First Down.
>Today is your first day as a Manehattan Zephyr!
>Your so nervous and excited you can barely handle yourself.
>Currently flying to the Zephyr's training camp, you can't keep a big, stupid grin from forming on your face as the facility appears in the distance.
>It's nestled on the outskirts of the city, and since its not too awful far from where you live, you thought flying there would be a good idea.
>It wasn't.
>It was the worst.
>You were never the strongest flier.
>As far as pegasi go, you are actually pretty bad.
>Due to some sort of birth defect, your wings are slightly smaller than normal and have damaged nerve endings on top of that.
>It makes your wings hard to control and the muscles get exhausted a lot quicker during flights.
>Still, flying was quicker than walking.
>You felt you could make the trip and get a warm up in before camp today, but your kind of regretting that decision now.
>Incidentally, this wing defect is the reason you play hoofball.
>Thunderball was your first sport of choice as a wee filly, just like dear old dad wanted.
>But, the bad wings kept that dream from taking flight.
>So, you turned to hoofball!
>Your family lived on the ground in Manehattan; and still does.
>Your unicorn and earth pony friends got you interested in the game and you became involved with a pee-wee team.
>You fondly remember your first hoofball game:
>What you lack in flight you make up for in running speed.
>Every time you had the ball in your little hooves, you ran it for a first down or a touchdown, always gaining yards each play.
>You ran the ball so many yards that game you broke the team record.
>You also got your cutie mark: a spiraling hoofball breaking out of cloud cover.
 
>What a glorious day that was.
>Ah memories...
>And another glorious day will be added to them after today!
>You glide down and make your landing outside the Zephyr's training complex.
>It's a trio of buildings situated across the river from Manehattan.
>They are constructed of concrete and steel, just like their counterparts across the river.
>There is also an open hoofball field and a one story red brick building on the backside of the facility that don't match the style of the rest of the complex.
>They must be older than the other two structures.
>You touchdown in front of the biggest, most official building of the lot.
>The letter explained that you needed to come early to sign your contract and some paper work before the first practice of the off season.
>You made sure to arrive early so you could get your stuff signed first, before the other new recruits showed up.
>After taking a breather for a minute, you head on inside.
>The foyer is completely empty, devoid of any activity this early in the morning.
>The only pony present is a receptionist at the front desk; a light green unicorn with a blue mane in a stereotypical secretary bun.
>She notices you as you walk to the counter.
>"Good morning Miss! How can I help you this morning?"
"I'm here for off season training. I need to meet the coach and manager to sign some paperwork?"
>"Oh! You must be one of the new players. Let me check my appointments book."
>She levitates a big red and blue book out from under the desk and opens it to today's date
>Skimming through it she stops at a set of names.
>"Ah yes, here we go. And may I get your name please?
"First Down."
>She giggles a little, "How appropriate."
>She closes the book and levitates it back under the desk.
>"I saw your name with the others Miss Down. Your a bit early, but the coach should be available for your visit."
"Terrific! Where can I find him?"
 
>"He's in his office. Up the stairs, down the hallway, third door on the left, right by the water fountain."
"Cool. Thank you ma'm."
>She gives you a warm smile, "Of course Miss Down. If you need anything, I'll be right here."
>You thank her and head up the large foyer staircase, straight to the coaches office.
>Sure enough, you find his door.
>It's marked with a bronze name plate etched with his name: Coach Gridiron.
>The butterflies in your stomach come back again as you stand there.
>Your about to meet the coach of your hoofball icons!
>That feeling of excitement and nausea grows as the weight of the occasion really hits you.
>Your about to sign on to play for the EHF! Play for the Manehattan Zephyrs! YOUR TEAM!
>You dance in place and almost squeal in anticipation.
>But you get a hold of yourself.
>There's no reason to be nervous Downey, your practically already on the team. Just go in there, meet the coach, and make it official.
>You check over yourself and your bag as you make sure your presentable.
>You take a deep breath and knock on the door.
>"Yeah? Come in."
>A masculine voice answers your knock.
>You open the door and see the stallion himself sitting behind a desk, with stacks of paperwork and a large planner.
>He looks up and smiles.
>"Ah, First Down. So glad to see you come out here so early."
>Oh gosh. Oh Celestia! He remembered your name!
>A grin breaks out on your face as he reaches for a hoofshake.
>You eagerly grab it and give a firm shake.
>"Heh, I see someone is excited to be here."
"Oh sir, you have no idea. I'm literally living a dream right now!"
>"Oh I know that feeling alright. How about you take a seat before you rip my leg off, eh?"
>You come out of your reverie and see your still vigorously shaking the poor stallion's hoof. You immediately let go.
"Oh! I'm so sorry sir!"
>He merely laughs it of and beckons you to take a seat.
 
>You take your seat across from Gridiron.
>"So, kid, I take it your real excited to be here today?"
>You beam.
"Oh yes sir! I'm so happy to be given this once in a lifetime opportunity to be apart of the best hoof-"
>"Woah woah. No need to be so formal kid. Just wanted to know how you feel."
"Hehe. Yeah, sorry. I'm just very excited sir."
>"That's great."
>He looks over you and raises an eye brow.
>"Did you workout before coming here."
"Huh?"
>"There's some sweat stains on your fur..."
>You look at your pits and wing joints and see the subtle stains of perspiration.
>A quick whiff even confirms you got lingering B.O. Eww.
"Oh, well kinda. I flew here sir."
>"Did you fly a long way or something?"
"No sir. I'm just not a strong flier. I've got weak wings."
>His face turns from casual to serious when you mention your wing defect.
>Oh no! You might have made a bad impression on him!
>You stutter out an excuse.
"B-but it won't affect my performance sir! I promise. I not a good flier, but you won't find a faster runner in Manehattan!"
>"Hmm. Regardless, I'd rather you not exert yourself before every practice. Your not in school anymore kid, this is the big leagues. These practices are going to whip you into shape for the EHF season. I need you at your best before every practice. It's no cake walk.
>Your suddenly very apprehensive at those words, but you give him a nod.
>"Atta girl. Just take a public carriage from now on."
>Coach Gridiron rummages through his desk and takes out a few books, laying them on his desk before looking at you expectantly.
>"So, First Down, have any questions for me while we wait on the General Manager?"
 
>You briefly think it over and you do have some questions.
"Just a few. On the letter, it said that I'm not a part of the main roster. I'm on a practice squad? Not that I'm not grateful to be on the team at all, sir! I'm just curious what exactly my function on the team is."
>The coach nods his head in understanding.
>"That's a good question First. What that means is exactly that, your on the practice squad, a group of players on the team dedicated to running drills and procedures with the rest of the team. Practice squad members are almost always new blood that are not draft picks. Free agents mostly. It gives us a chance to test the water with new team members, get a gauge for their strengths and weaknesses... It's also a payroll thing.
>Why doesn't that last part surprise you.
>"Now don't let that make you think your less important than anypony else on the team. Come hoofball season, you participate in game days with the rest of the team: gear up, wear the uniform, the works! Just don't expect any play time right off the bat."
>Okay. Practice with the team and hone your skills. Sounds legit.
>And you still get to be on the sidelines wearing the ol' red and blue!
>You were afraid you'd be a glorified tackling dummy or something. Glad that's not the case.
"Awesome! And what are we doing today?"
>Gridiron smiles at that question.
>"Well I'll tell you right now, we'll hit the ground running with training. No proper drills involving formations and plays or anything like that. But trust me, you'll be given plenty to do for the next few weeks."
>Ooooo, "hit the ground running" he says. Alright, your game.
"Sounds intense coach, but I'm ready for whatever you throw at me."
>"That's what I like to hear kid."
>You had one more question to ask.
"So uhh... when do I meet the rest of the team!?"
>Gridiron gives another knowing smirk.
>"Can't wait to see some of your heroes eh? Don't worry, you'll be heading to the equipment room to be assigned gear and a locker, then you'll be able to mingle in the locker room before practice starts. But, before that happens, that GM of ours needs to show up."
>And as if on cue, you hear the door behind you open.
 
>At the sound of the door opening, you turn to see the Zephyr's general manager walk in with a stack of papers.
>She's a pink unicorn mare in a three piece suit, which is in the team's colors of course.
>The mare is all business, with a professional, no nonsense air about her.
>She doesn't look like she's in a good mood, but it's hard to tell with these business types.
>The manager looks you up and down, appraising you, before extending her free hoof for a hoofshake.
>"No Nonsense, Manehatten GM."
>You take her hoof.
"My name is First Down ma'am. I'm-"
>"Yes, the filly from the tryout. I remember."
"Oh."
>"Yeah kid, Ms. Nonsense here remembers everyone, especially the ones she hires."
>"Please refrain from referring to me by that name Mr. Gridiron."
>"Hehe... sorry Ms. N."
>No Nonsense drops the stack of papers on the desk with a thud.
>"Now, we have some business to take care of Ms. Down. Namely, signing you contract."
>You gulp at the pillar of forms teetering at the edge of the desk.
>"Is all that paperwork for me?"
>"No Ms. Down. Only the top portion. The rest is for the other new members, who, I might add, are waiting outside your door Mr. Gridiron. So, let's get started shall we?"
 
>You, No Nonsense, and Gridiron read through your contract.
>They explain anything you don't understand and touch on the finer points of requirements, responsibilities, code of conduct, and salary.
>Waivers, health benefits, and leave conditions are also covered.
>It's a pain to go through, but you eventually reach the last page.
>The signature page.
>You've been dreaming of this moment for your whole life.
>It's hard to believe that that dream is only a hoofprint away now.
>No Nonsense slides you an ink sponge and you gingerly press your hoof into it.
>Your hoof hovers over the page before carefully pressing into the dotted square, leaving a perfect hoofmark.
>Ms. N gives you a receipt copy, takes the original contract, and puts it in a folder.
>"And with that, it is official. Welcome to the Manehatten Zephyrs Hoofball Franchise Ms. Down."
>Coach smiles at you.
>"Your one of us now kid! How does it feel?"
>Your internally screaming.
>Keep your cool Downey. Have some poise for once.
"Ahem. Proudest moment of my life sir."
>"Good to hear. Now go get your gear from the Training Facility. It's the building across from the red-brick locker house and practice field. Practice will be starting in a couple hours."
>They give you directions there and send you on your way.
>You quickly trot past the other recruits waiting at the door and around the corner.
>Once your out of sight-
"..."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
 
>Ok. That was a bit much.
>But come on, your officially a Manehattan Zephyr hoofball player now.
>On paper!
>Your moving up in the world First Down.
>The scream was a bit much though.
 
>You clamp down on your muzzle in embarrassment and check back around the corner.
>Everypony outside the office is staring at you, startled.
"Sorry! It's fine, everything is fine! D-didn't mean to startle anypony. Uh, everything is peachy keen... Yep."
>You all stand there awkwardly before you attempt to slide off with a "Y-you too."
>But you bump into somepony in the hallway.
>Actually, you should say somegriffon.
>A large, light reddish brown griffon with a spotted white chest stands before you.
>You recognize her immediately and almost let out a squee right there.
>Phoebe Bronzewing.
>Zephyr linebacker and the lone griffon of the team.
>From what you remember, she is a relatively new addition to the Manehattan team.
>She came on the scene a few years ago at the Equestria Games and soon after pursued a career in hoofball.
>The Zephyrs picked her up and she's been with them for the past 2 years.
>Strong, sturdy, but deceivingly nimble, she became one of the most important defenseponies on Manehattan's roster.
>Er... defensegriffon?
>"Hey..."
>That's kind of a mouth full.
>"Hey."
>Surely there's a better term.
>"Hey! Glue for brains!"
>You shake off your train of thought and focus on the griffon in front of you.
>She's got an irritated scowl on her face. A "what in Tartarus are you staring at?" look going right now.
>You realize you've just been staring at her like a dolt the whole time.
>Why do you have to be such a doofus?
 
>The large, intimidating griffon puts a talon to your chest.
>"If your some fan who wandered in here, this building is off limits and you should leave."
"Oh no, I'm not a fan... I mean I am! Huge fan! I-I love your work!"
>I love your work?
>Really?
>"That's real super kid, but I don't care. You don't belong here. Now-"
>You put your hooves on her claw before she can push you away and try to explain yourself.
"B-but I do! I'm part of the team! Look!"
>You pull out your copy of the contract, hoofprint and all, and proudly display it with a smile.
> Bronzewing narrows her eyes and quickly scans the paper in your mouth, as if checking its legitimacy.
>She still doesn't seem satisfied, but she removes her claw from your chest, her expression gone from annoyed to non-plussed.
>"Oh... your a rookie."
"Mhmm!"
>You spit the paper out of your mouth.
"I'm your new teammate! The new blood! The new kid on the block! The fresh squeeze! The-"
>Bronzewing pinches your mouth shut mid sentence.
>"Still don't care short stuff."
>Oh. Okay.
>Sort of rude, but Bronzewing is known to be short and to the point with ponies, so you don't take it personally.
>Your not fan of her calling you short though.
>Your not short!
>Your compact like a runningback should be.
>Bronzewing brushes past you, scooting you over with a wing.
>"I need to see Grid and Nonsense, so if you'll excuse me..."
>She turns the corner to Gridiron's office and notices the line of recruits waiting at his door.
>You step back up to her side.
"I think they're kinda busy right now."
>That annoyed look returns to her face, except this time she actually seems miffed about this.
>"Figures."
>She turns back to you.
>Your still just staring at her.
>Breathing through your mouth like an idiot.
>The two of you share an awkward silence before the griffon snaps at you.
>"...Don't you have somewhere to be rookie?"
>Oh man she's right!
>You need to get your equipment before practice you doof.
"Y-your right, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you though!"
>She just replies with a "Mhm."
>You raise your hoof for a hoofbump, but she leaves your hanging.
>It's whatever.
>She's too cool for hoofbumps.
>You canter down the hall toward the exit and shout back to your new teammate.
"Uh... see you at practice... fellow Zephyr!"
>She didn't respond, but your pretty sure you saw her roll her eyes.
 
>You go straight from the main admin building to the training facility.
>The training facility houses a sizable gym, complete with a weight room, cardio room, and jogging track to boot.
>It's also where all the equipment needed for the hoofball team is handled and stored: uniforms, pads, helmets, shoes, balls, tackle slides, blocking dummies, other training equipment, and just about everything else you could ever need.
>You report to the equipment room and meet with the Equipment Manager and his assistant.
>They outfit you with everything a rookie needed for their first month of training:
>Practice jerseys, workout shorts, practice pants, shell pants, padded girdles, padded jock straps, practice sweats, sweat towels, leg bands, tail wraps, mane wraps, like three sets of cleated shoes, shoulder pads, wing harness, and a red practice helmet to top it all off.
"That's a lot of stuff."
>The equipment manager chuckles a bit at your comment.
>"Hehe. Wait until the season starts bud."
"Will all this even fit in my locker?"
>"Sure it will! You just gotta pack it in right. Now get going."
>They give you a large duffelbag to stuff everything in.
>You try your best to make all your gear fit.
>But it doesn't.
>Whatever.
>You placed the overstuffed duffel on your back and then balanced everything else on top of that.
>It took real steady hooves to keep it from falling all over the floor.
>All you had to do was make it to the locker room in the red building and you were in the clear.
>You carefully try to balance everything on your back as you make your way to the training facility's exit, but you walk is slow and awkward.
>You finally make it to the door and reach a hoof out to push it open, when it suddenly flings open right into you.
 
>The door slams into your face and knocks you down, the gear you painstakingly packed and stacked getting strewn on the floor with you.
>Aw man! What in Tartarus?
>Even the gear in your bag spilled out on the linoleum.
>It was a pain in the flank to get all that crap in there!
>... Probably should have zipped it up in hindsight.
>But your not the villain here!
>You begin to get up to give the pony who knocked you over a piece of your mind...
>When you see towering over you a pair of the biggest stallions you've ever met.
>Emphasis on met.
>You've seen them before on the TV.
>In fact, you immediately recognized them the moment you saw them.  
>Chock Block and Gyn Tackle!
>Offensive guard and defensive tackle, respectively, and sibling teammates of the Zephyrs.
>Block has whitish fur and a maroon mane, while Tackle's coat is maroon and his mane black.
>"Gyn, you idiot! You hit this poor mare with the door!"
>"Oh, I'm so sorry miss! Are you alright?"
>Their massive size. The slight Stalliongrad accents. The almost identical features they share.
>It's them alright.
>The brothers quickly offer you their hooves and pull you up.
>Block picks your things up off the floor, while Tackle politely dusts you off.
>"I'm terribly sorry young mare. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
>Of course, your star struck again and have trouble responding to the massive stallion.
>But, you recover better this time, compared to your last encounter.
"Uhhhh, yeah! Yeah I'm fine!"
>"Are you sure kid? I think I gave you... a uhhhh..."
>He gestures to your eye and you prod the top of your cheek with a hoof.
>A dull stinging sensation comes with the touch and you instinctively wince.
>Oh great. You got a black eye.
 
>"Look what you did Gyn!"
>Block stops picking up your stuff and slides up beside you to inspect your bruise.
>"Yeesh. It's a real shiner too."
>"How was I supposed to know she was on the other side of the door?", responds Gyn.
>"Maybe if you didn't barrel through it in such a hurry, you wouldn't have hit her you oaf!"
>"Hey, don't call me dumb!"
>"I didn't call you dumb, I called you an oaf, dumbass."
>Gyn butts heads with his brother and your squished in between their massive chests.
>"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll give you something worse than a black eye!"
>"Oh yeah?"
>"Yeah!"
>Oh jeez, this is getting out of hoof.
>You slip out from between the brothers and try to diffuse the situation.
"Guys, guys! It's okay. Don't get in a fight over me. It isn't that big of a deal."
>"But, doesn't that hurt?", says Block.
>Well yeah, that door nailed you in face real good.
>But, they don't need to know that.
"Naaah. I've had way worse. I mean, we're hoofball players, right? We're tough and mean and hardcore and stuff. Grrrrr..."
>Chock Block doesn't seem fully convinced, but Gyn laughs at your lame growl and puts a friendly leg around your shoulders, giving you a little too forceful squeeze.
>Hahaha! See Block, she's a tough one. I think I'm going to like you, uh..."
"First Down."
>First Down! I like that name. Very... very hoofball!"
"Hehe, yep."
>Block rolls his eyes and gets back to picking up your gear.
>He says something to his brother while gathering your stuff.
>"Still, that bruise will swell without something cold on it. Go to the doctor's office and get an ice pack for First Down."
>"But, that's all the way in the medical building! Why do I have to do it?", snorts Gyn.
>"Because this is your fault in the first place."
>"What about our new shoulder pads?"
>"I'll take care of it. Now get going, practice will start soon."
>Gyn huffs out a "fine" and trudges off to the medical building.
 
>With him gone, Block keeps packing the gear into your duffel and makes small talk.
>He asks questions like if your new here, where your from, what position you'll be playing, those kinds of things.
>He's probably the first pony here, other than the coach, who's shown any interest in you, and that really lifts your spirits.
>You gleefully tell him that you are fresh from signing your contract that morning and that you'll be playing runningback on the practice squad.
>"Interesting. You been playing the game long?"
"Only since I was a filly! You could say it's a passion of mine."
>"You'll fit right in then. Everypony is passionate about what they do here, even Ms. No Nonsense, if you can believe that."
"Yep! I love the game and the team. Even if I'm only on the practice squad, it's a dream come true. Don't be surprised though if I'm on the official roster by season's start! I was the MVP at school after all."
>Your confidence amuses him.
>"Heh, I like your attitude kid, but I hope you can dodge tacklers better than you can dodge doors."
>The two of you laugh at his little burn and he presents you your duffelbag.
>Somehow, he managed to pack everything you were given into the vinyl bag, except for your shoulder pads and helmet.
"Hey! How did you get all that in there?"
>"Just got to pack carefully. It also helps to not stuff your pads in there. Saves room for the little things."
>Ah. Makes sense.
>After he gets his and his brother's new pads, you both exit the building and head to the locker room.
"We never had to handle our own equipment when I was in school. The equipment manager handled all that stuff for us. So, sorry for my ignorance on the finer points of packing.", you jokingly say.
>"Hey, no problem. Glad to teach the new kid a thing or two. Speaking of school, you never told me where your from?"
 
"Oh, I was born in Rainbow Falls, but I'm 100% Manehattan raised, baby! To be specific, I live in SoHoof with my parents and went to school across the river at Seaward Primary."
>"Seaward Primary? No kidding?"
>Block has a grin spread across his face.
"Yeah! Did you go there? I mean, I feel like I would know if you went there, but..."
>"What? Oh no. I grew up in Stalliongrad with my family. We were fisherponies by trade, but me and my brother found our calling on the hoofball field rather than the sea."
>Oh wow. You didn't know that the brothers used to be fisherponies.
>"When me and my brother moved to Manehattan and joined the Zephyrs, we used the money we made to buy a house near Seaward for our parents, grandparents, uncles, and aunts, and purchase a new boat for our father to fish on to his heart's content."
>Double wow! That'a super nice of them. It's not cheap to live in or around Manehattan.
>Tackle and Block must be some really nice ponies to buy all that stuff for their family.
>You think your going to like hanging out with them.
>"But that's not why I bring up Seaward. Do you know Moonlight Charge?"
>At the utterance of that name, you could swear Block's grin grew even wider and that there was a twinkle in his eye.
>Uhhh... you can't say you know who that pony is.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I know who your talking about."
>"She's new to the team, like you, but she played on the west coast of Equestria before coming back here."
"Oh yeah?"
>"Yeah! She said she played in a collegiate league or something for a few years. I met her on a trot through the park one fine morning in March. She's wicked smart!"
>Block is practically leaping up and down telling you about this pony.
>Your not sure what's gotten into him.
 
>The both of you stop in front of the red-bricked locker-house.
"Wow. This Moonlight Charge must be a great hoofball player to get you this excited."
>"Yeah, she's pretty good. But, that's not the only thing that's great about her..."
>Block loses focus and kinda just stares off into the distance, with a smitten look on his face.
>You wave your hoof in front of his face, but that doesn't do anything to snap him of his trance.
>It takes a nudge with your shoulder to knock him out of his daydream.
>He shakes his head and clears his throat, giving you a sheepish smile.
>"But- *ahem* -uhm. Yes, I brought her up because she also said she went to Seaward Primary."
"No way!"
>Woah, a fellow Seaward alum on the team with you!
>Get all kinds of hype!
>...You still don't remember her though.
>Must have been in a graduating class before you went to school there.
>Still though! You two came form the same school.
>And ponies say Seaward doesn't turn out pro material.
>You and this Moonlight Charge really showed them!
>Block taps you on your shoulder and takes you out of your thoughts for a moment.
>"And wha-do-ya know. Look who's coming up right now."
>Block points his hoof behind you and you bring yourself around to see the very pony the two of you were talking about.
>Moonlight Charge can be seen trotting up the sidewalk toward the both of you, carrying a similar collection of gear to your's.
>She's a unicorn; fur a deep midnight blue, with a complementing yellow and white mane and tail.
>Her manecut is one you don't typically see on hoofball players: short, prim bangs that cover the sides of head and curtains the side of her neck.
>The only player you can think of with a similar style is Twilight Sparkle of the Elements.
>Not really your style, but who are you to judge.
>Your just excited to see somepony you could probably relate to!
 
>Abandoning any pretense of civility or personal space, you gallop right up to the blue unicorn.
>You giddily prance in front of her and recite the song of your people.
"Seaward Seagulls let's take flight, soaring high with all our might!"
>Your impromptu cheer and dance startle Moonlight.
>She stands dumbfounded at your goofy introduction. Probably wondering why some weirdo just galloped up, unprovoked, and shouted some random cheer at her.
>But something clicks in her mind from the rhyme and her face lights up with a nostalgic smile.
>"No matter what, through day or night, Seaward Seagulls fight fight fight!"  
>She recites the second line of your school anthem, and you both rear up to point to the sky and deliver the final line together.
"GOOOOOO SEAGULLS!!!"
>Both your and Moonlight's duffels slid off your backs when you two reared up, but you don't pay that any mind.
>Your both laughing too hard to worry about the duffels.
>"Hehehe. Oh wow, I haven't heard that cheer in such a long time. That brings back a lot of memories."
>Moonlight wipes a tear from her eye and levitates your bag onto your back.
>She gives you her most congenial smile.
>"Who are you? Are you from Seaward Primary?"
>Her eyes flick to your face and before you can answer her, that pleasant smile turns into a concerned frown.
>"Oh my goodness! Are you alright?"
"Huh? What do..."
>Oh wait, that's right. Black eye.
 
>Is it really that bad?
>You haven't gotten a good look at it yourself but surely it's not that bad.
"Oh, you mean this shiner! No yeah, I'm fine. It's just from an accident, so don't worry about it."
>Your nonchalant attitude seems to placate her enough, so you answer her question.
"Anyway, my name is First Down. It's so nice to meet a pony from Seaward around here!"
>You hold out a hoof and she bumps it with her own.
>Bringing Seaward back up returns Moonlight's smile.
>"The feeling is mutual First Down, I'm Moonlight Charge. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Same! And I know, Chock Block told me about you."
>You point back to the linepony, who trots up to join you two.
>"Hey Block! See your already introducing me to my new teammates. What a gentlestallion."
>Moonlight nudges Block and gives him a wink.
>His cheeks flush at the compliment.
>"Oh pishaw, I'm just trying to be friendly Moon."
>"He's a real sweetheart you know. Nicest pony I've met since coming back to Manehattan."
"Yeah, speaking of which, Block also told me you were in a collegiate league out west."
>"Mhm! After graduating from Seaward, I went to college out in San Palomino. Played on the college team for a full ride."
>She tells you more about her time at university, and apparently, Moonlight is one smart cookie.
>She majored in arcane science at SPU and is playing hoofball to make money for a personal research project of hers.
>Your not sure how she can cram the time for hoofball and science projects, but her dedication to both is definitely admirable.
>Then again, two fashion designers, a pop star, and that pop star's former manager play for the Zephyrs, so it's not like it's uncommon for some crossover of careers in the EHF.
>Eugh, getting Coloratura and Svengallop in the same room must be super awkward after they had that falling out...
>Your mind's wandering again. Stop it.
>So, Moonlight "moonlights" as an arcane researcher. Neat!
 
>During your talk with Moonlight, Gyn finally came back with that ice pack for you.
>You gingerly place it on your eye and wince at the stabbing chill.
>Block, ever the gentlestallion, offers to carry your helmet and pads so you can hold the ice pack.
>With everyone together, you all head into the Zephyr's locker room.
>The entry way is paved with the team's hoofball memorabilia, acting as a reminder of the Zephyr's rich and proud history.
>Dozens upon dozens of framed team photos line the wall, dating all the way back to the early days of the EHF.
>Even more photos of the team's former greats, victorious moments, and framed newspaper clippings, clutter around those on the wall.
>"NEWLY FORMED MANEHATTAN TEAM EARLY CONTENDERS."
>"ZEPHYRS BREEZE PAST FILLYDELPHIA FOR PLAYOFF SEAT."
>"ZEPHYRS ROB REINING ROYALS OF CHAMPIONSHIP CUP!"
>Old pennants, retired jerseys, gilded hoofballs, and other miscellaneous memorabilia take up the rest of the self space.
>Boy, so much history in just the entrance's hallway.
>It kind of daunting actually.
>Every day you come in here, it will be a constant reminder of the expectations you are meant to uphold for the team.
>Keeping up that legacy is important.
>That's a lot of pressure for a rookie.
>But you can do it Downey!
>You'll show just how good you are and that you can play with the big fillies and colts!
>You'll prove that you belong with (in your opinion) the coolest hoofball team in all Equestria!
>This is the biggest moment of your life First Down.
>Don't let yourself or your new teammates down!
>You psych yourself up with that personal motivation speech and trot forward with your new friends into the locker room proper.