Entry 6
Transcribed by his goblin scribe, Ian H. McKinley

How dare you call me a liar!?! You little maggot! I should pull out my codpiece and slap you stupid with it!


It’s not you but the Minotaur what’s callin’ me a liar?

Well … I suppose he is paying me a fair bit’o’swag for you idiot scribes to scratch that there parchment with a cockatrice feather after it’s been dipped in the blood of my enemies. But just ’cause he’s payin’ don’t mean he can slander me! You write him back and tell him it’s the truth! He just don’t understand Blood Bowl. No! Don’t write down that he doesn’t understand Blood Bowl! He’ll get his muzzle out of joint. He thinks he’s “all-knowing”; some sort of groo-roo. He’s as stupid as that idiot Baron von Loser coaching the Riversity Gun Nerds, except he’s got horns. We’ll show him it’s the truth. Start writing.

Right, tell me again how that stupid “Baron I’m the Worst” does it? Okay, begin.

Good day, everyone.

So, there’s slanders goin’ around that my team can’t play worth shite. Now, if someone’s out of reach of me grabbin’ them by the throat and sqeezin’ so’s their eyeballs pop out, or if they’re armed and I ain’t, then they’ve got the right to their opinions. But they’d be wrong. I’ll admit the game against the Elves was a frickin’ disaster, but I sorted things out afterwards, didn’t I? 

So, yeah, the Bytown Maulers have played their next three matches and things didn’t go as brilliantly as they usually do whenever I do something. We got a draw, then came the disaster against the frickin’ Elves, but then we bounced back with an unfair-and-square win against some Undead. Now, I never actually understood why they call that five-hundred, but they do, and it’s not bad.

So, the liars keep goin’ on about arse-wagging in the end zone like it’s the whole point of playin’ Blood Bowl. But we all know that the hard-core fans, the life-blood of any team, the Ultras, understand better. It’s the casualties what count. That’s why there’s that saying: blood, gore, treasure! Yup. The Ultras know.

“But boss! That’s not what the rules say about winnin’ games!”

Shut yer gob, you wee runt! Do you think readers want to hear your whinging about how you like arse-waggin? No! No one wants to know about that disgusting stuff.

Sorry, just keepin’ my Goblin scribe in line just there. He keeps goin’ on and on about his opinion – which is entirely wrong! – that the number of times someone on your team wags their arse at the end of the pitch determines who won the game. But I know better. Nope. It’s blood. It’s gore! It’s opponents strangled, or suffering broken legs, or left with a Goblin’s boot sticking from their privates! That’s what the fans pay to see. It’s what you gotta give ’em.

So this last stretch of games started against a team of humans .. the Sherbrooke Sham Rock or somethin’. I mean, who the frick cares about a Sham Rock? If you’re gonna have a rock … which is a cool idea; you can hit people with it … well, make sure it’s a real rock. Anyway, we hurt two of theirs, and they hurt two of ours, but one was a Goblin, so that only counts for half. It might go down as a tie, but really we shouldda won by a half!

And yeah, picky prick scribe, the humies shook their boo tea twice at our end of the pitch, but so what? I don’t CARE if we didn’t do it even once! I keep tellin’ ya! I don’t go in for that sort of thing!

Then the disaster happened against the Elven Union team, the Fart Foundation, or something like that. Anyway, they might have a cool name, but that’s the only positive I can take away from that disaster. Let’s just say I did a lot of yellin’ at the Lads after that game. We only hurt one of them and they got two and a half of us … yeah, they hurt a Lad and they got three Goblins, so that was bad. The Ultras didn’t like that one bit and I can’t says I blame ’em. They don’t shell out the hard-stolen gold pieces they’ve pilfered from the stupid and the weak just so’s their favourite team plays stupid and weak, am I right?

So, bein’ a renowned coach and all that, I did a bit of throttling and threw a few punches at the Lads and the Goblins. I tells ya, you’ve gotta use all the tools in your tool chest if you’re gonna be a successful Blood Bowl coach.

Anyways, it worked. The next game we played the Legion of Gloom, a team of freakin’ zombies and skeletons and what not. They even had a stupid sheet that floated around like it was tryin’ to attract that stupid Taureau Amiral, a dead pratt-ador! Haha! Yeah, write that down, you scrawny Goblin scribe. It’s brilliant! 

So, this Legion of Gloom, we re-killed one of their players and put another back into the graveyard, if you take my meanin’, and came away winners, two – one. And a Goblin even got to wag his arse at the Undead end of the pitch once. The Ultras loved it! So we’re back on track. Everything’s iggy-doo.

So, going through this PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE patch of one win, one loss, and a draw, but finishing with the win, here’s my take-aways …

“But boss, you never tied one of those games, you lost! The Shamrock beat you two – nil!”

“hruccck gack” 

Yeah, that’s it. Write down what I say. Go ahead. No, I won’t stuff my undergarments down your throat … not unless you piss me off like that last scribe did. Go on … write it all down.

Sorry, I had to pause there to change my underwear and get a new scribe. Where was I? Ah yes, now’s a perfect time to refer to that great Blood Bowl sage, Taureau Amiral, who said in his Art of Coaching:

3.4. Do not go toe to toe against a stronger team unless you must. Know that the numbers needed to win a fight will prevent you from winning the game. The wise coach keeps his players healthy and focuses on leveraging their strengths to achieve his goals.

By the Unforgiving Gork, that Minotaur knows how to ramble on and on! So, even if I’m contractually obligated to refer to his Art of Coaching all the time, this once he’s not wrong. But I’d simplify it. If it was me, I’d say:

3.4. Be the stronger team.

Hehehe. You know, new malleable scribe, I do enjoy being contractually obligated to quote the Minotaur every once and a while. It reflects well on my brilliant … er … brilliant … BRILLIANCE!

Anyway, so an important take-away … be the stronger team! And be pitiless!

But I didn’t become the brilliant coach who’s brilliant by not learning from my mistakes. There’s more take-aways. 

More take-away one: Last time out I hinted at this one when I said that the Brawler skill was a poor-orc’s Block. Now I can prove it! Wouldn’t you know that the team started to play a lot better when my Lads could figure out how to block! Getting them trained-up in Block makes Brawler a whole lot more useful. I don’t know how many times I had to blow precious team training sessions (editors note: re-rolls) rectifying problems that came about because skull, double-skull got changed into skull, skull! So, train you Lads in Block!

More take-away two: Also, I’ve always said that having the ball draws in the opposition’s better players to the heart of your team. Well, that only works if you can get the squig-skin into your hands! I don’t know how many times frickin’ useless Gobbos never managed to pick up the ball and take it to where there was Black Orcs. So, as tempting as it might be to put all the Lads up front and bash things, you’ve actually gotta hold a couple back, at least one on each flank, so that if Goblins screw things up, as they are wont to do, you can protect them and also dish out some violence. Otherwise they get stuck, isolated, and vulnerable. Train at least one Gobbo to be able to pick up the ball on the run. Also, havin’ Sure Hands’ll protect it if someone with Strip Ball comes at them.

More take-away next after two: Tackle. You need Tackle. There’s too many freakin’ opponents out there who’re slimyer than a buttered eel.

Mmmm … buttered eel.

Sorry … just thinking about what I want for dinner. I’ll even pillage in a Bordeleaux from that idiot Baron’s cellar to go with it!

So, train a Lad or two in Tackle. It’ll help bring down the slimyest of opponents and ratchet up your casualties. The Ultras’ll love it and you’ll win more matches … ass wagging or no.

Also, believe it or not, I’m thinkin’ more about that piece of advice about being the stronger team. I’ll explore that thought in my next entry in this excellent chronicle.

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