Tuesday, Feb. 15

"Yes. Yes. All right, Mr. Fox, it's a deal! A pleasure doing business with you!" Sam Gwosdz, general manager of the Williamsburg Minutemen, said in the phone. Sam was seated at the desk in his small study, furnished with a few bookcases filled with sports books, almanacs and various novels. A widescreen, high definition television sat on the far wall. Below it sat a few video game consoles with games neatly stacked in various cubicles around them.

The red fox hung up the phone and let out a loud yip of excitement. Marron Gwosdz quickly ran into the study. "Samuel, what happened?? Why did you yip??!" she said frantically. Sam met her wtih a huge grin.

"I just got off the phone with the general manager of the Kansas City Clefs!! We just completed a deal that everyone's going to be talking about!!!" he said excitedly, getting up out of his chair. Marron then gave him an angry look.

"You could have at least given me fair warning; I thought you had hurt yourself!" she snapped. Sam just grinned at her.

"You know how cute you are when you get angry?" he said. Marron huffed and crossed her arms. "So who did you get?" she asked.

"Jakub Lyška and Walter Robinson!" he replied excitedly. Marron's eyes widened a little. "Really?"

"Yes! We just ran the paperwork through the comissioner's office!"

Marron nodded. "So... who did you trade?"

"Not you," he said, sticking out his tounge. Marron rolled her eyes. Sam was in too giddy a mood for the arctic vixen's taste right now. The fox continued.

"I traded Denny Veil, Liam Weems, and next season's second round pick. I also agreed to send the first-round pick if I re-sign Lyska as insurance so that Kansas City has the opportunity to get him back. I know that Lyška and Howell are one of the better sets of teammates in the league, but I think he can help us a lot too! And you remember Walt."

Marron nodded. "He's one huge hyena, that's for sure," she said. Then she unfolded her arms. "What are you going to tell Denny and Liam?"

In one instant, the excitement evaporated from Sam's face and he looked crestfallen. "Yeah, I have to do that, don't I?"

"Either you or Mr. Tarman. You've done this before with Chester," Marron reminded her husband. He nodded. "Yeah, but after that talk I had with Veil and him being on the bench... that might get ugly."

Marron just looked at her husband and he sighed. "All right, I'll call Veil first; I think Liam might take the news a little better," he said. He dailed up Veil's cell phone and waited for an answer...

* * *

Denny Veil sat in his recliner, trying to relax some more. He had enjoyed the All-Star Game festivities and was happy at the performance of his teammates. At the same time, they reminded him that he wasn't playing too well with the Minutemen. The cell phone in his pocket started to play a generic pop tune that was programmed in the phone. The moose removed it and looked at the number. Mr. Gwosdz. What would he be calling about, Veil wondered, then he frowned. Of course, that had to be it...

He pressed the green button on the phone and held it up to his ear. "Hey," he replied.

"Hey, Denny," Sam said. "I... have some news..."

The moose nodded. "I've been traded, haven't I?" he asked. There was silence on the other end. "... yeah."

"I thought as much. Where to?" Veil asked. He seemed pretty even-keeled there which unnerved the general manager a little bit. "... Kansas City."

"Yeah, for who?"

"Lyška and Robinson. It was a package deal."

"Yeah, okay," the moose replied. Sam was rather unnerved by Veil's measured tone. "So... all right. Good luck in KC..." he said in a quieter tone.

"I wasn't good enough for you?" Veil suddenly asked.

"Come again?"

The moose stood up, his eyes flickering. "I bust my ass out for you out there, then Roosevelt freakin' benches me, and now you just throw me away, is that it?!" he shouted into the phone. "No, no, that's not it at all!" Sam protested.

"Yeah, I know how it is! I'm the fall guy, the one that takes the blame! I read all the papers! A lot of analysts blamed me for the Minutemen's downslide and now you do too!" he roared. Sam held the phone away from his right ear as he was being berated by his former player, but a surge of anger swelled through him and he brought the phone up to his muzzle.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, MAN!" Sam shouted into the phone. The arguing on the other side of the phone stopped quickly. The red fox sighed. "Look, my job is to improve the Minutemen. I'm trying to do that. It's nothing against you. You did the best you could; I saw it."

Veil still frowned on the other side of the phone. "... where should I be flying to?" he asked.

"Kansas City. They're playing Galveston next," Sam said. He then gave Veil Zear Fox's phone number so he could contact him for further details. "Well, good luck, man. I hope you do well with the Clefs."

Veil nodded, understanding the respect that Sam really did have for him. "Yeah, thanks. You too. Kick some ass for me, all right?" he said. Sam chuckled. "Will do," he said, then he hung up the phone.

Marron smiled. "Well, at least the worst is over..." she said.

"Yeah, but the job's not finished..." Sam said, dailing Liam Weems' cell phone number.

* * *

Weems munched on a hamburger as he chatted with Reggie Mackenzie. The bloodhound and Welsh terrier seemed to be having a nice conversation. The restaurant's television showed FSPN's FurSportsCenter, showing the sports highlights of the day. The news ticker at the bottom of the screen was too small for either Mackenzie or Weems to read, so they didn't pay attention to it. A soft ringing and vibrating came from Weems' pocket. He removed the phone from his pocket and looked at the number. Sam Gwosdz. He pressed the green "Answer" button on the screen and held it up to his ear.

"Hello, Mr. Gwosdz! What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Hey, Liam. Well, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Weems asked. Sam felt like he could tell Weems anything, so he just came out with it.

"You've been traded to Kansas City. We just completed the deal about 15 minutes ago," he said.

"I've been traded?" Weems asked, looking at Mackenzie. The bloodhound dropped his sandwich in shock.

"Yeah, to Kansas City."

"Who have I been traded for?" Weems asked. He seemed calm, which didn't unnerve Sam because Weems usually had that even-keeled attitude.

"Lyška and Robinson. Package deal with Veil."

"Really? That's quite a haul..."

"What? What's quite a haul?" Mackenzie asked.

"Lyška and Robinson," Weems told Reggie. The bloodhound whistled. "That's not bad at all..."

Liam then turned his attention back to Sam.

"You can contact Zear Fox to get instructions on other things to do. I know you're supposed to fly to Kansas City. They're playing the Sand Dollars."

"I see. Well, Mr. Gwosdz, it certainly has been a pleasure playing for the Minutemen. I know that Jakub and Walter will help you win," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, I certainly hope so," Sam said, chuckling. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this," he added. Liam smiled.

"Well, Mr. Gwosdz, the Lord has plans for us all, you know?"

The red fox nodded. "Yeah, He sure does..." he said, relieved that Weems took the news much better. Sam gave Weems Zear Fox's number and Liam jotted it down on a napkin.

"Thank you," Weems replied. Sam nodded. "Good luck in Kansas City," he said. The terrier nodded. "You have good luck as well, I'll be rooting for you," he said chipperly.

"Except when you play us again," Sam chuckled. The two shared a laugh and then said good-bye to one another. Weems hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. He looked up to see Mackenzie frowning. Given that his face was already droopy, the frown seemed much more expressive.

"I'm gonna miss you, chum," he said. Liam nodded. "And I'll miss your company too, but we can still talk with one another."

"It's not going to be the same," Mackenzie said, knowing he was losing a good friend.

"Change is hard, we know that, but we all have our own path to follow. Mine just involves going to Kansas City now," Liam chuckled. That got a laugh out of Mackenzie. The two finished their lunch and returned to Liam's house so he could begin the process of packing.

* * *

Sam hung up the phone. "Well, it's done. The team has changed now. I guess we'll be hearing from Jakub and Walt sometime," he said. Marron nodded. Sam sat in his chair for a moment, then clapped his hands. "All right, better get the morning press conference set up..." he said, picking up the phone.

"You won't be doing anymore yipping, will you?" Marron smirked, her green eyes locked on her husband. He just laughed. "No, there's nothing to yip about that."

His wife nodded and stole a kiss from him. "Work hard now, hun..." she said, smiling. "Yeah, I will," he chuckled. The two smiled at one another then Marron left to attend to a couple of household chores.

* * *

Wednesday, Feb. 16

Jakub Lyška and Walter Robinson navigated the corridors of Patriot Stadium with Sam and owner Jack Tarman on Wednesday morning. The contrast of the height of the two players was striking. Lyška was a full five inches shorter than his general manager walking on his right. Lyška, dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt, only reached Robinson's chest. The hyena towered over owner Jack Tarman. The tiger was explaining the positive attributes of Patriot Stadium. Lyška and Robinson had came here infrequently, as both were career Western Conference players.

Eventually, the four came to the locker room. They both noticed the Wall of Honor on the opposite wall of the locker room. When they gazed at the locker room doors, Walter looked up at the sign, just a foot from his head, and laughed. "That's a good axiom to live by in basketball," he chuckled. Jakub nodded. "Yes, it is..." he said. The fox didn't understand English well, but he could read and speak some.

"And now, gentlemen, the locker room..." Tarman said, treating this like a grand ceremony. The two new players smirked at the pomp and circumstance, thinking it was all a joke. Tarman opened the doors.

A round of applause and cheers greeted the new players. All the Minutemen players and staff stood inside the room. At the head of the group stood the captains of the team, Teo Masalia and Nick Nwabudike.

An improvised meet-and-greet started, as the players introduced themselves to their new teammates. Some swapped stories of past encounters. Robinson joked the he was glad he didn't have to face Nwabudike and his trunk anymore this year. The huge hyena enjoyed talking with Damien Nathaniel, who quickly coined them the "Big and Tall Hyenas" on the Minutemen.

Lyška greeted everyone with "Hello"s and "How do you do"s. When the fox greeted Vera, she kneeled down to hug him. "Vítejte v týmu," she said. Jakub smiled back at her. "Moc vám dekuji, Vera," he replied. "We help each other on this team and we'll help you succeed here as well," she continued, indicating that was probably all the Czech she studied in one day to greet Lyška. The fox appreciated it and nodded, understanding that the team would help him. He heard that a lot over his career, and hearing that from a player helped his confidence.

Coach Roosevelt was the last to greet the new players. "Welcome to the Williamsburg Minutemen, Walter, Jakub. I'm looking forward to working with you two," he said. He showed them to their lockers, which, incidently were beside each other. Weems, Renson and Veil occupied those lockers at various points of the season. Inside the cubicles hung their brand-new home uniforms. Lyška kept his number 27, while Robinson was assigned a new number: 31. They were officially Minutemen players now.

The Minutemen were changed now. Changed for the better, most likely. But would they win? That was the $64,000 question bouncing through the general manager's mind as he watched the proceedings. 'It's all in their paws now," Sam thought.