He spent a fraction of a second trying to find the best opening.
Tidus was positioned very near the opposite goal, an excellent position - if it weren't for the three beefy Luca players surrounding him. No good. He was too far away for the pass to have enough power and speed to reach him through those blocking.
Botta? No, no, no good at all. He was completely exhausted, would have to be replaced before the next half - and no wonder, after the rough treatment he'd been given. The Luca Goers never play nice.
She was free, though.
He couldn't understand why their opponents always seemed to underestimate her.
Of course Tidus was the most dangerous player in the team. Few keepers could resist the legendary Jecht Shot. Tidus was the star, no doubt about it.
But Svanda was equally important to the Auroch's successes, why couldn't they see that?
They all were.
What would a team be without all its players? Just a star didn't make a team.
Svanda was a fantastic Defender.
He knew, after what must be hundreds of games, that if he made a good throw, she would catch it. Undoubtedly. And when she would pass him, he would never fail to receive it. She was an excellent player. They were excellent, together.
It would have to be her again.
It was becoming a running joke in the team. Before the game, after the game, in the half time pause; nudge nudge, wink wink, after all those passes, hadn't he scored yet?
Late at nights after a few hours on a pub, after just enough to drink to put them into that oddly sentimental mood that put thoughts into the heads of the most callous player, the others would hesitantly say something about how wondrous it was the way the two of them could keep the ball between them. How they managed to confuse the opponents into chasing first one, then the other, chasing from one part of the sphere to the other after the ball, until it was too late and they were too far away to stop the final throw to Tidus or one of the other stars and the Aurochs would have scored again, and how could they work in perfect harmony and unity like that?
And Svanda would look down and blush.
And Brother would feel his face redden, and walk away without saying a word - he didn't know which words to say - but not before Svanda would send him one of those sweet, shy smiles.
He wished he knew her language better.
He wish he knew what to do around women. No, not women. He wished he knew what to do around her.
But he didn't know her language, and thinking wasn't his forte, so he did what he did best. He threw her the ball. And she caught it. Of course she caught it.
And later, after the game, after they had won, Svanda smiled at him again.
And this time, Brother smiled back.