On May 14th, 2012, the Baltimore Spirits played their last game of the 2011-2012 season. The road match in Albany had been a blowout, shutting the door on an ugly season for Maryland's team. The club's point guard Joey Cox (Roadrunner, G, BAL) had played so hard, putting in more minutes than he was used to, fighting for every bucket. But there was no way he could inspire his team enough, not when their playoff chances had turned to dust weeks earlier. For the rest of the club, the game was about going through the motions, just making a good show for someone else's fans. And in basketball, there's no way the passion of one can break the apathy of eleven.

Of course, being young, wealthy furs, every FBA player has a cell phone, but the FBA has strict rules on their use. Players can't have them on the game floor at all. So it's not unusual that as soon as the players leave the court they get their phones before exiting the tunnel. When the defeated Spirits headed out, Joey hurried a bit to get his phone first off the cart, immediately making a phone call. That's why he didn't notice when the coach slowed down his teammates behind him, asking them to wait a moment. They were confused at first, but one of them figured out what it could mean and asked the others to listen to coach.

It meant a little bit that their bodies at the mouth of the tunnel helped keep anyone from seeing Joey cry.

The roadrunner had never had it easy. It's funny to say that about someone who grew up in Malibu, one of the most scenic parts of Los Angeles, but the Cox family was different from all their neighbors. They were poor. Descended from natives of the region, they were nothing like the wealthy starlets and socialites surrounding them. Being a poor kid in a rich city was harsh for young Joey, who turned to athletics when he struggled with the mammal bias of his school district. In the end, it worked out for him. When the rich parents sent their kids to college, Joey joined them on a sports scholarship.

Joey's college career was stellar and would have attracted attention were he not an avian. With their thin bones and light bodies, it was common knowledge that birds couldn't compete on the same level with mammals. The reporters who did cover his games noted how good he was and that he might have a shot at being a scrub in the FBA if he worked hard enough at it. But one writer thought more.

Phil Crota (Smooth-billed Ani) was a rising star among novelists. While his first book had failed to grab much attention, his second effort, A Feathered Stone, had dominated the bestseller lists with its unflinching look at anti-avian prejudice. Having established himself as a pro-avian writer of socially poignant works, he soon looked for a theme for his next novel. The FBA provided the inspiration when they announced a change to make the sport more balanced for avian athletes: the One-Flap Rule. To Crota, it was the perfect backhanded slap. The mammals got to pat themselves on the back thinking themselves progressive for creating a new rule helping avians-- totally ignoring the fact that many birds don't fly. With a theme-- and a title-- Phil found Joey during his research for the book.

The pair hit it off from the start. Despite their many differences, Joey was familiar with Phil's sheltered personality, having seen it back home. And he liked seeing it in another avian. And to Phil, Joey was a thrilling soul, a brash athlete beaten down but always fighting back to prove himself. Soon the occasional phone calls became regular. Then they turned into short meet-ups. Then into lunch dates. Then entire days together.

Phil had seen it soon after they first met. But he also saw that Joey hadn't. Or, not that he hadn't, but that he wouldn't let himself. Phil was patient and sympathetic, but after months, well past any "research", when time spent was personal, Phil couldn't wait any longer. He spoke frankly with Joey about his being gay. It was difficult for Joey, and Phil knew it would be. Having grown up lower than everyone around him, Joey demanded so much of himself, desperate to prove the mammals wrong, that he was just as good as any of them. And in that frenzy for self-affirmation, he had convinced himself that his homosexuality made him lower still. Set on burying it, he resisted Phil's claims at first. But Phil was patient. And caring. And knew just how to explain to Joey that being gay didn't make him anything less.

Maybe being told that did it. Maybe it was finally letting himself be who he was. Or maybe it was finally falling in love with someone. Whatever it was, Joey found a drive even greater than anything he had ever known. And that's why he got picked up in the first round of the 2007 FBA Draft.

Like always, Joey didn't have it easy. He was originally promised a starting role on the Stanislaus Thrust, who were desperate to find a replacement for their star point guard Buck Hopper (Rabbit, G, DAK), wounded in a horrible playoffs injury the season before. But when B-Hop made a miraculous recovery during the off-season and was cleared to play on day one, Cox found himself on the bench behind the best point guard in the league. That was frustrating, but there was much to keep his pacified. One-Flap Rule came out in bookstores and was a huge success. Phil toured the country selling his book as Joey toured with the Thrust, carried by the success of one of the league's elite teams. With both doing so well, the time was perfect. To Phil's surprise, Joey was the one to get on his knee and ask for Phil's wing in marriage. Phil didn't hesitate to agree.

But storms brew quickly. A couple months after the pair were engaged, California voters passed Proposition 8, a cruelly-worded law stripping marriage rights from the state's same-sex couples. Disgusted by the law, and confident that it would eventually die, Phil and Joey agreed to wait until they could be officially married in their home state. Thankfully, the frustrations didn't take from either of their games. Editors salivated for Phil's next manuscript, and the Thrust made it to the 2009 FBA Finals. The team's loss in seven games would have hurt more had it not been followed by even worse news.

Phil has picked up a nasty cough during his book tours, which he and Joey had assumed was just a virus. When it didn't go away, Phil went to the doctor. Tests found a rare and dangerous cancer in Phil's gizzard, one requiring immediate care. They didn't delay. Joey looked for the best avian endocrinologists in the country, and when he found they were in the Eastern states, he demanded a trade.

The next years were hard for Phil and Joey. The chemotherapy was brutal on Phil, making him sick and weak, until his feathers paled. Joey struggled with the distraction of his sick mate, of the bad news coming from the doctors as the cancer refused to shrink. In time, the pair agreed to break their vow, marrying in Iowa. But Joey replaced it with a new one. He was going to win a championship for Phil.

It's a tough venture, chasing rings. Figuring out which team has the best chance to make the Finals is close to impossible. Joey tried to get back on the Thrust, but the club liked Randy Catcher (Bullfrog, G, PIT), the frog they had gotten from the Mudpuppies for him, and so there wasn't room on the roster for the roadrunner. The Mudpuppies were a great team, but not quite good enough, and Joey wanted a starting role. He wouldn't get it there with Barton Rogue (Red Fox, G, BLV) running the show. The trade to the Idaho Mounties was a big gamble, one that gave him a starting role but on a historically weak team. Still, it paid off in the end when his skill as a starter caught the attention of the much better Baltimore Spirits, who then took the avian on as their lead point.

By then, Phil had partially stabilized. Still weak from the chemo, he had managed to settle, the cancer no longer growing. He even found the strength to write another book, one that had strong if not matching success to his previous effort. At one moment, everything looked like it was going to plan as the Spirits earned the best record of the season, going into the playoffs with a #1 seed-- before being knocked out in the second round.

It was a frustrating loss, made more so as the next season, the Spirits struggled badly. Nowhere near as efficient as they had been a year before, roster changes had gutted the team's core, much of the blame ironically going toward a coyote who had ditched the club to start a career in another sport. It got even worse as the cancer suddenly grew again, forcing Phil to be hospitalized, and pushing the roadrunner to make his strongest run yet for his team.

But it wasn't enough. When the playoffs slipped away from the team, Joey admitted to his teammates that he considered retiring. No one would have blamed him. They knew what he was going through, that no one knew how much or how little time he had left with his husband. The head coach even had the paperwork ready, just in case. But Joey soldiered on, coming early to practice, playing every game to his hardest, to the end, being that same determined athlete he was as a boy, fighting to prove himself to the mammals, playing to show he could be as good as anyone.

Which is why his teammates knew when Joey fell to his knees and cried out in anger, Phil had died. It had happened during the game, somewhere in the third quarter. Phil had been watching from his hospital bed. It happened very quickly, the cancer spreading to his blood, his organs starting to fail. The doctors tried to bring him back, but there was nothing they could do. The last words on his beak were his husband's name.

The reporters whispered over what would become of the heart-broken athlete. Many thought he would just quit and leave. Many thought he could never become the player he was. But Joey proved them all wrong. He came back, and he played even better, better than he ever had before. And when he finally did open up about what had happened that night, a whole year ago, he admitted that part of why he played was because Phil told him to. Neither Joey nor Phil had any idea how close he was to death, but Phil said it was important that Joey play the final game with his crest high, playing hard like any star would. And Joey honored the wishes of the man who had opened his heart, had taught him so much about himself, and had made him much more than he ever could have been alone.

And it had taken him a year to realize, he still was.A commission I'd received months ago from the simply incredible  Ironfeathers, who I got to meet at MFF 2012 again! Not only is she a wonderful artist, but she is just a delightful person! Thank you so much, Cara, and so sorry it took me this long to post this picture!!