'Mister Nutt, you are not supposed to tell them that sort of thing,' said Ridcully.
Mr Hoggett looked downcast. A man betrayed by team, history and expectations. 'I can see we've got a lot to learn,' he said.
Trev pulled Nutt off to one side. 'And this is where it all goes bad,' he said.
'Oh, come now, Mister Trev. We're doing very well. Bengo is, anyway.'
'I'm not watching him. I'm watching Andy and Andy is watchin' Bengo. They're bidin' their time. They're lettin' the poor old buggers get into a hell of a fix and then they'll just take over.'
And then Trev was given a short lesson in why wizards are wizards.
'I have a modest proposal and I wonder if you will hear me out, referee. While we at Unseen University are absolute novices, we have had rather more time to get to grips with the new football than our current opponents have. Therefore, I propose to give them one of our goals,' said Ridcully.
'You can't do that, sir!' said Ponder.
'Why, is it against the rules?' Ridcully's tone deepened and became noticeably more pompous. 'I ask you, are good sportsmanship, fellowship and generosity against the rules, pray?' By the end of the sentence, his voice was audible nearly to the very back of the stadium.
'Well, of course there is nothing against it, sir. There isn't a rule stopping you washing your laundry during the middle of the game-and that is because no one would do it.'
'Right. Mister Hoggett? One of our goals is now yours. We are, as it were, level.'
Hoggett, transfixed, looked around at his fellow players, 'Well, er, if you insist, sir.'
'Wouldn't dream of taking no for an answer,' said Ridcully expansively.
'What in the world made him do that?' said the editor of the Times, as an exhausted runner brought him the news.
'It was a very generous gesture.'
'Why did you do it?' said Ponder to Ridcully.
'I am totally transparent, Stibbons. Generous to a fault, that's me. It's not my fault that they do not know they are inferior and this will play on their minds for the rest of the game.'
'That's rather... cunning, sir.'
'Yes, it is, isn't it? I'm rather proud of it. And once again, we get to kick first. No wonder this is such a popular game.'
'That was a remarkable piece of psychology there,' said Nutt to Trev as they walked back to the sidelines. 'Somewhat cruel, possibly, but clever.'
Trev said nothing. There was the shrill call of the whistle for the game to resume, followed instantly by the referee screaming, 'A LITTLE BIT OF HAIL WON'T HURT YOU, BOY, IT'S HEALTHY AND WILL DO YOU GOOD.'
'That's magic,' said Trev. 'Should that be happening?'
'No,' said Ponder Stibbons behind him. 'It's just possession.'
'Yes, the game is all about possession, Mister Trev,' said Nutt.
Trev looked up again at the stand. There was the shining shape of Juliet, only a few feet away from Vetinari himself and flanked by Glenda and Pepe. She could be a goddess. It's never going to happen, is it? he said to himself. Not her and a boy from the candle vats.
Not really going to happen. Not now.
And then Bengo screamed and it seemed as though every voice in the stadium joined in one communal 'OOOOOH!'
And the whistle blew again.
'What happened, sir?' said the editorial assistant.
'Can't exactly be sure. They got the ball to Macarona again and then he collided with a couple of United players and they all ended up in a heap.'