The Archchancellor of Brazeneck University felt gracious enough to let that one pass. He put the gigantic whistle to his lips, filled his lungs with air and sent the pea rattling. Despite everything, the shade of Evans the Striped had the last word: 'NO BOY IS TO FIDDLE ABOUT IN THE SHOWERS!'
As the crowd streamed down from the stands, trampling the now sacred turf, Ridcully tapped a gloomy Mr Hoggett on the shoulder and said, 'It would be my privilege to change shirts with you, sir.' He dropped his hat on the ground, pulled off his shirt and revealed a chest so hairy that it looked like two sleeping lions. The United shirt he received in return was somewhat of a tight fit, but that was unimportant because, as Andy had predicted, the Unseen Academicals were indeed picked up by the yelling crowd (except for Mrs Whitlow who fought back) and carried in glory through the city. It was a triumph. Whether you won or lost, it was still a triumph.
You think it's all over?
The wizards of Unseen University knew how to party. Pepe and Madame Sharn were impressed. However, business was business and they had to think about Juliet. 'I can't see her anywhere,' said Madame.
'I think I saw two of her a while ago,' said Pepe. 'These fellows do themselves well¨CI have never seen such a large cheeseboard. It almost makes celibacy seem worthwhile.'
'Oh, do you think so?'
'No. By the way, have you noticed that very tall wizard giving you the eye, my dear?'
'That's Professor Bengo Macarona. Do you think he - ' Madame began.
'Without a shadow of a doubt, my dear. I know he's hurt his legs, but I doubt if that would be a problem.'
Once again, Madame craned to search the crowd for the glittering figure. 'I do hope our young model is not getting involved in any hanky panky.'
'How could she? She's totally surrounded by admirers.'
'It's still possible.' ;Number four. That was my dad's number.'
'Yes,' said Glenda. 'We know. Listen to 'em cheering, Trev.'
Trev looked like someone trying to find an escape clause. 'I've never even trained with the new football. You know me, it's always been the tin can.'
'It's a football. It's just a football,' said Nutt. 'You'll get the hang of it in a second.'
The former Dean strode up. 'Well, this is all very gratifying with a touch of welcome pathos, ladies and gentlemen, but it is time we continued this football match and I would be very grateful if all non-players could stand back behind the touchlines,' he said, shouting to make himself heard above the noise of the crowd.
Trev left Nutt at the goal. 'Don't you worry, Mister Trev,' said the orc, grinning. 'With me saving and you striking we can't lose. They won't get me the same way a second time.' He lowered his voice and grabbed Trev's shoulder. 'When it starts to get hot down this end, run like stink towards the other and I'll make sure you get the ball.' Trev nodded and walked across the turf to the cheers of the crowd.
The editor of the Times later reported as follows: At this point, United seemed to feel that they had a working strategy and poured every resource into the university side in a m¨ºl¨¦e that was clearly beyond the referee to control. The plucky orc custodian had also learned a lesson and two or three times recovered the day with magnificent saves, on one occasion kicking the ball, in our opinion, directly at the head of one of the milling opponents, stunning him and then catching it upon the rebound, dropping it on to the boot and sending it far into the opposing half where Trevor Likely, son of the famous football hero, ran pell-mell towards the goal where Mr Charlie Barton had happily been provided with a chair, a table, a late lunch and two stalwart defenders, whose clear purpose it was to see that none shall pass. All breathing in the park surely ceased as the young paladin fired off a tremendous shot, which was, alas, out by a few inches and only served to rattle the woodwork and rebounded towards the defenders. Nevertheless, Likely tackled like a man possessed and spirits lifted once again as the two defenders got in each other's way just sufficiently for the boy to once again power the sphere back towards its intended resting place. Your correspondent believes that even the supporters of United joined in the groan as once again this second shot failed to find a slot and this time rebounded almost to the feet of H. Capstick, who lost no time in sending it screaming towards the Academicals' end before it could do more harm. Once again, the indefatigable Mr Nutt warded off a number of attacks while the rather pathetic remnant of the university boys' defence proved that prowess with the magic wand is of little avail if you do not know what your feet are for. At this point, Master of the Dark Arts Dr J. Hix was summarily dismissed from the field after the crowd's persistent chant of 'Who's the bastard in the black?' alerted the referee to his attempts at endeavouring to strike down F. Brisket, one of the notorious Brisket boys, with the soul-eating dagger of the Deadly Vampyre Spider Queen. Which, as it transpired, turned out to be neither magical nor, as it turned out, made of metal, but one of a number of similar items available in Boffo's Joke Emporium, Tenth Egg Street. Ranting apparently fearful oaths about university statute, Dr Hix had to be dragged from the field by members of his own team, leaving our spirited magicians in an even more depleted spell of difficulty, probably wishing they had a magic carpet to get them out of there!
At least Dr Hix's tirade and attempts to drag the ground with him bought them some time. Glenda ran on to the pitch to a dishevelled and downcast Trev.
'What happened, Trev?' she said. 'You had it right there in front of you. You had it in your hands, well, on your boot, anyway.'
'It doesn't do what I want,' said Trev.
'You're supposed to make it do what you want. It's just a football.'
'Yeah, but I'm tryin' to learn with all of this goin' on.'
'Well, at least you nearly did it. We haven't lost yet and it's still only the first half.'
When play was resumed, according to the editor of the Times: A certain amount of backbone had been retrieved by the men in pointy hats and captain Nobbs led a concerted attack in an attempt to further interfere with Charlie Barton's lunch, but to the dismay of all, the son of Dave Likely still appeared to have only a nodding acquaintance with the art of goal scoring and it appeared very much that his only chance of putting one away would be to have the ball wrapped up and sent via the Post Office. And then, to the shock of all, the occult gang appeared to prove that they were far better at billiards than football when another of Likely's powerful, but directionless, attempts rebounded again off the goal on to the head of Professor Rincewind, who was, in fact, running in the opposite direction, and was in the back of the goal before anyone, including Charlie, knew where it was. This got a cheer, but only because the game now appeared, in our opinion, to be a comedy routine. Alas, there was no comedy about the fact that in several parts of the Hippo, fights were breaking out between gangs of rival supporters, doubtless inspired by some of the shameful performances on the pitch...
As the two sides trooped or hobbled back to their places, the referee called the captains together. 'Gentlemen, I'm not quite sure what we are doing here, but I am quite certain that it's not exactly football and I look forward to the inquiry later on. In the meantime, before anyone else is injured and especially before the crowd start to tear this place apart and eat one another, I will tell you that the next goal scored will be the last one, even though we are still only in the first half.' He looked meaningfully at Hoggett and said, 'I sincerely hope that some players will examine their consciences. If I may coin a phrase, gentlemen, it's sudden death either way. I will give you a few minutes to impress this upon your teams.'
'I am sorry, sir,' said Hoggett, looking around, 'some of my lads are not people I would have chosen, if you get my drift. I'll give them a good talking to.'
'In my opinion that would only work if you were hitting them with a hammer at the same time, Mister Hoggett. They are a disgrace. And do you also understand me, Mister Nobbs?'
'I think we'd like to carry on, too. Never say die.'
'And I would not like to see death here, either, but I suspect that your request for extra time is in the hope that Mister Likely will learn how to play football, but I fear that will not happen in a month of Sundays.'