Being a stadium is like being a volcano. For many weeks, months, or even years, you can stand dormant. You're simply hulking landmark that locals and tourists alike will gape at and appreciate for your beauty. They say things like "wouldn't it be great to see it in action one day?"
On gamedays, it's different. You're like a bustling beehive of activity, as hundreds and thousands of people mill about around and within you. Like an active volcano, you start bubbling. Excitement flows through you like magma, and everybody knows that the big event is soon.
Eventually, you erupt. No two eruptions are quite the same. Being primarily a gridiron football venue myself, I'm used to The Big One coming at any time. Sometimes, it's a huge turnover on the first drive that swings momentum for the home side. Sometimes it's an incredible play by incredible players that has never been replicated before or since. And sometimes, it's at the very end of the game, a walkoff play for my home team that releases three hours of pent up stress, hype, and excitement from the crowd. Those eruptions are the best. They echo through the downtown landscape, letting those miles away hear the explosion drifting on the wind.
Sadly, those eruptions are few and far between. In my action as a mostly single-use venue, I spend many months in the year in hibernation. Sometimes a wildly famous music star will put their stage on my field and perform for their legions of adoring fans. Those are well and good, and the music is fun, but they're not the best. I know some old stuffy concert halls would faint if they heard that, but it's true! Us buildings are creatures of habit and purpose, and while a break from the norm is fun, it's not what we look forward to.
Of course, I'm the home of my pride and joy, the Sadeg Spartans. They're a team in the GLD, and one of the best, in my opinion. Both me and the team were named in honor of the Spartans, an elite group of warriors in Drawkland's early days who were trained in our beautiful city of Sadeg. I was named in the honor of the Spartans and all veterans of Drawkland's armed forces. That's also why they built Spartan Spire, a huge memorial right next to me. He likes to tease me because he's much taller and can see much further than I can, but he's still my best friend. You really have to be friendly with the buildings around you, because it's not like they're going to be moving anytime soon.
There's another reason that I'm such good friends with the Spire, but that's a story for another time.
More recently, I've started getting more offseason action. This started over a decade ago when the Elite Eleven were given the reigns to take over the Kick Corps name and compete as Drawkland's national team in the World Cup and other such events. Being a group of boys from near Sadeg, they thought it would be appropriate to have me host most of their home qualifying matches. Can you believe that? Me! A humble, midsized venue that doesn't even host professional soccer on a regular basis!
The decision was a little unpopular, sure. Nobody hated that move more than Drawk City Stadium, the previous host of Kick Corps home games. Personally, I thought it was a great move. That prissy bitch from Drawk City was always so braggadocios. It was bad enough when she was built as the largest soccer venue and one of the biggest stadiums in Drawkland full stop. I know we're in Drawkland where capacity is king, but that still doesn't excuse stadiums from having a lack of personality, in my opinion. It was nice to see her get knocked down a few pegs! And unlike her, whenever they decide to do a national tour rather than hold all the qualifying games in Sadeg, I'm actually very graceful about it.
Being the qualifying home venue for Drawkland is probably one of the best jobs for a stadium to have. The success of the Kick Corps has been up and down over the years, especially under the Elite's tenure (or should I say ELEVENure? Sorry, Spire would've found that funny). Still, Drawkland has been historically dominant in qualifying, especially at home. It's all the other games that give them trouble.
Anyway, it's a great job. People from around the country come to watch the team that represents us all. Plus, you sometimes get opposing fans from across the multiverse coming to watch their teams play. What great stories they have, speaking of their exploits in far away lands! It's not possible for me to travel anywhere different, so hearing the fans regale their tales from every corner of the world is such a treat.
Sadly, I'm not always a bowl full of sunshine. While I've hosted some of the Elite's greatest successes on the pitch, I've also witnessed some of their greatest defeats. The most recent one that comes to mind is the 3-3 draw against Tikariot. The Elite had just come back for the second leg of their qualifying playoff against the Owls, drawing the first one 2-2. All they needed was a win by any means, or to draw at less than 2-2 as to not force extra time. Instead, the defense crumbled, and the away goals tiebreaker sent the Elite, and the fans, to the Cup of Harmony where they'd underachieve far from my eyes.
The crowd was heartbroken when the final whistle finally rang out, and I was too. Not just because my new friends missed out, but because this meant it'd be another few months before GLD season would be ready and crowds would return. It's a frankly boring time in the offseason, and a little lonely. At least I always have Spire to keep me company. I'd hate to be one of those old stadiums surrounded by nothing but a sea of parking lots and interdistrict highways. Nobody to talk to all day? I'd crumble in months!
Today, my doors opened up and fans began to stream in for what was already going to be a tough match.
"What's going on today, Vet?" Spire asked me, noting the larger presence of people milling around his base.
"World Cup Playoff. It's our last chance to qualify," I responded nervously.
"You don't sound too happy about that!" Spire responded with a chuckle.
"Well, I've heard from the Corps employees in the pressbox that we're in a dire spot. Apparently the Elite went and lost the first leg 5-3 on the road. Unless they win by two goals or more tonight, they'll miss the World Cup for sure."
"After such a great cycle? I feel like I watched nothing but wins this year!"
"Well, there was that stinker against Geektopia. And they sort of fell apart on the road later in the cycle. I can hear them complaining about it in the locker room."
"Oh, the team's here already?" Spire asked, a little surprised. Usually the Elite came as late as possible, either intentionally or accidentally.
"Yes, they practiced for an hour or two on my pitch, while you were still sleeping. They've spent most of the day inside, discussing tactics and lamenting the situation. They're such interesting characters, you know."
"They sure are. You know they usually come by and knock on my base for good luck before they go in for the game, just like the Spartans do."
"That's right! Oh dear, did they knock on you today?"
"They didn't, now that I recall. That probably would've woken me up, anyhow."
"Wait!" I gasped. "I remember they forgot to knock on you before that Geektopia game, where they completely fell apart. Does that mean they're going to lose tonight too?"
"Well, they knocked on me before that Turori game, and they didn't win. It's not like I have magic powers to make them perform better. After all, I'm just a large tower of steel and stone."
"But what if it does make a difference? They need to win big today, they need all the help they can get!"
"It's not like we can do anything. The Elite are a weird bunch, but I don't think they speak Building."
"Damn, you're right. If only I could send them some sort of sign ..." I mused.
"What are you gonna do, write on a whiteboard in the locker room?"
"I can't do that, silly." I paused for a moment, then lit up in excitement. "There is something I can do, though!"
Inside the home clubhouse, the Elite Eleven went through their various pregame routines to get focused. Some of the guys preferred to sit or lay down in silence, some listened to music, some paced around. This was a big game. Drawkland was already falling in the World Cup rankings. The difference between the World Cup, the Cup of Harmony, and no postseason was enormous. They'd already overperformed in qualifiers, bringing back the form they had in the early days that brought Drawkland back to the World Cup after the original Kick Corps collapse.
All of a sudden, the lights in the clubhouse blinked a few times and flickered out. All the screens went out, and anybody's phone that was plugged in stopped charging.
"What the hell?" Mike Rodney exclaimed. He was in the middle of massaging his back with a plugin massage gun when it went dead.
"The power just went out. How is that possible?" Elias Keys closed his laptop and got up out of his chair.
"Septimus, go check outside to see if all the lights are out," Jaxon Madison instructed as he sat up on the couch he was laying on.
"Sure thing, boss." Septimus got up and walked quickly to the clubhouse window, slightly above ground level but disconnected from any walkways and prying eyes. "Looks like it might just be this room. I can tell in the reflection of the building next to us that all the other stadium lights are on. Plus, the Spire floodlights are shining bright as always."
"Weird. Well, I'll go send word to the maintenance crew. Maybe they just tripped a breaker in this area or something." Jaxon replied, and the rest of the boys nodded. He stood up and headed for the door.
"Wait ... wait a second! Shit, dude!" Septimus spun around to face the rest of the room. "The Spire! We got here so early we forgot to do the Spire thing!"
The rest of the room was filled with the abrupt sounds of playful panic. Jaxon stopped right before leaving the room.
"You're right! If we need any goddamn luck, it's tonight of all nights." Jaxon turned to address everybody. "Let's get to the Spire now, and maybe the lights will be fixed by the time we get back."
The lights, seemingly on cue, came right back to life. All the plugged devices lit up to indicate they were receiving power again.
"Well, I guess the lights took care of themselves. But let's go pull all the luck we can out of that beautiful monument."
"It worked!" I cried in excitement. I heard the Elite's conversation and felt them jogging out of the clubhouse towards the concourse.
"What worked? What did you do?" Spire exclaimed.
"I turned off power to the clubhouse. One of them looked out the window and saw you and remembered. Bless those boys, they actually decided to come out and knock you for good luck!"
"I've been around for a very long time, and I've never seen anybody do that. Why would you go through so much trouble?" Spire asked.
"I love that team, and I love all the fans." I replied sentimentally. "They made me their home, even though I'm not the biggest or fanciest or best stadium around. They made me home because they felt a connection with me. They wanted to play here. They wanted to knock on the Spire before every game. I was a symbol of their hometown, and they valued that over any of the cooler places that they could've easily chosen. They did all that for me. I would do anything to help them."
"Well, I'm not sure how much help I can give them, but you know I'll be rooting for them all I can. Oh, here they come now."
Sure enough, the eleven immortal men were charging across the concrete concourse, pushing past confused fans and passers-by, before finally arriving at the base of Spartan Spire. One by one, they all came up to the Spire, craned their heads back to see the top, saluted, and gave two solid knocks to his metal façade. They huddled together at the base, said some words we couldn't hear, and jogged back to me, this time being a little more inviting and giving high-fives to fans as they passed.
Who knows if they would play better thanks to Spire, but they seemed much more confident as they came back into the clubhouse. Sure, they were a little more tired after running two pitch lengths twice in a row, but they seemed reinvigorated. Instead of a defeatist feeling inside me, I could feel a budding confidence.
As the fans started to stream within me by the thousands, the atmosphere began to light up. Spire's lights, which are usually an array of gold beams, changed to black and red. It was time for Drawkland's Kick Corps to fight for their lives. The fans and the team felt the same. It's nerve-wracking, standing on the precipice of your demise. I know that feeling too well. Still, that confidence that Spire had somehow instilled in those boys was starting to spill out. As they took the field with their typical swagger and hype, the crowd could feel it too.
They were down, but they weren't out. I can tell you better than anybody ... it's not over until it's over.
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