The silence was louder than any noise could possibly have been. In reflection, the crushing weight of competition only felt heavier now that it was over. Wind ripped through the air like a great shout, and though it wasn’t yet night time, dark clouds covered the world in gloomy shadows. Gloomy as Red Eye felt, sat under a tree watching the world move past. It seemed only yesterday that the competition had begun and Red Eye was once more determined to prove themself. It wasn’t even a want any more, racing was what they were good at, so they had to do well.
And now it was over.
“Captains don’t cry,” Red Eye whispered into the wind, but still their tears fell to the sodden ground, telling a story of pain and anguish. This wasn’t just a disappointment, this was an embarrassment. Red Eye didn’t want to have to see their team again, to try to hide their brokenness with a smile, step back up to their responsibilities as a captain, and prepare for Marbula One. And yet something deep within them knew that they must. That no matter how hard they cried now, life would keep moving forwards and they better be moving with it when all was said and done.
There was no room to stumble. And yet, surrounded by the bitter winds that danced around ferociously, all Red Eye could think about was all of their previous successes and how they had just let it all go. It was a tremendous amount of pressure, to live up to every previous success. How could the Marbula One individual champion outdo themselves? How could a Marble League winning captain- a two-time gold medal winner- outdo themselves? How could they surmount a bar set up at the ceiling? It’s what they had wondered the entire time, and it had been to their detriment. The pressure that they had so courageously worked through in previous years had brought them to a breaking point and it was here and now that it had collapsed so terribly.
A twig snapped behind them, and they looked back to see a timid looking marble, small in the silhouette of the great trees growing around. It was Murky, who looked surprised to have company.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone would be —” Murky started quietly, but Red Eye shook their head, turning back to gaze into the distance without saying a word as they tried to quickly wipe away tears before they were noticed. “I’ll just leave you alone,” Murky said, starting to roll away, but Red Eye spoke out, causing Murky to turn back.
“No, don’t. Please. You’re probably the only one who knows somewhat how I feel,” Red Eye choked, sniffing quietly. Murky nodded solemnly and approached with caution. It was only as they drew near that Red Eye noticed the redness of Murky’s own eyes, and Red Eye knew that they were not completely alone. They sat in silence for a while, listening only to the wind that whistled through trees and down the hill, before Murky spoke, their voice cracking with despair.
“How do you cope? I feel like I’ve let my entire team down. This… this is a total failure… our reputation… I don’t know how I can ever face them again.”
The same words Red Eye had spoken silently to themself were now presented back to them, and Red Eye could only answer with the truth.
“I don’t,” was all they responded.
“Oh.”
They continued, “At least, not at first. It hurts. Goodness, it hurts. And you think you’ll never make it out the other side, you think you should give up. But you don’t. You just go for the next thing and maybe you’ll fail that too but maybe you won’t. You did your best. It didn’t work out, but that’s all anyone can ask of you.”
The wind slowed briefly and the sky lightened, a sort of warmth filled them both. A moment of silence passed once more, and Red Eye considered what they had just said to Murky. It was easier to say it than believe it, and nothing was taking the vicious pain away for now. Meanwhile, Murky’s mind was cast back to the moment they discovered they had been eliminated.
It was a blow, a shock.
It left them feeling scared and confused and for the first time in a while, completely and utterly isolated from the world and their team. Ashamed and miserable, Murky couldn’t help but wonder what could have been, where they would be if they hadn’t been eliminated, if they were still out celebrating and preparing to continue the fight. But Red Eye was right. No matter how hurt you feel, you just have to keep going. And right now that meant returning to where their team was probably frantically searching for them. Murky thanked Red Eye and got up, gazing down the hill once more. The leaves rustled as Murky sighed.
“What’s next?” Murky asked no one in particular.
“I’m going back to train for M1. But I’ll be back to watch what I can when I can,” Red Eye responded after a brief pause, the decision to keep going feeling final and comforting. “I’ll stay, I think,” Murky responded. “There are teams, and there are teams.” And with that, they rolled away into the darkness, leaving Red Eye feeling bemused.
Lights glared and flashed in brilliant and vibrant hues of orange, blue, yellow, and pink. Music throbbed through the evening darkness with an unwavering bass that pulsed slowly and steadily like a heartbeat, however there was nothing slow and steady about the atmosphere inside the large building where marbles rolled around laughing, cheering each other on.
Clutter may have lost their place in the Marble Survival 100, but they certainly were not going to lose this dance battle with Pinky Panther.
“Admit defeat!” Pinky Panther yelled across the dance floor as they threw themselves into a series of extravagant spins on the floor.
“NEVER!” Clutter screamed happily, mid-backflip.
There was no undertone of disappointment in the busy atmosphere, only partying. Many teams lined the edges of the room, sat at tables with drinks, and quietly danced alone in the darker corners, but everyone now had their eyes on the center of the dance floor where Clutter had begun some chaotic rolling.
“It’s so terribly out of time with the music that it’s somehow fascinating and wonderful,” mused one onlooker, to the agreement of the group around their table.
The room continued to hum with a ferocious excitement that reverberated throughout the room as marbles cheered and sang at the top of their voices, enjoying the atmosphere. The song came to an end and both Clutter and Pinky Panther, out of breath, bowed to their audience with a mischievous flourish before calling the room to join them on the dance floor.
Tumult careened around the room, encouraging marbles until they put down their drinks and made their way onto the dancefloor with laughter. The last table they approached was as covered in notebooks and drawings as it was drinks and snacks.
“Fun to get in on the action for once?” Tumult grinned at the group, then nodded at the marble closest, “Come on, I’ve seen you dance!”
“Well, I’m hardly about to tap dance, but-“ the marble stammered as the group was jostled onto the dancefloor where all spectators were spinning with glee to the thunderous tunes. Even Shelly was out there, putting the bitter sadness of elimination behind them just to have a good party. Of course, it was easier to enjoy yourself surrounded by all of your friends, and three tragic finishes in the week wasn’t going to take away from the fact that they’d come fourth in the first week.
“You win some, you lose some,” Frank had said when they’d met up after the race. And it was true, as Frost was about to find out, face to face with Clutter on the dance floor. Yet there were no hard feelings as Clutter spun with some mysteriously chaotic and frenzied elegance, and Frank laughed with the audience as they slipped around.
“More of a racer than a dancer, that’s for sure,” Frank laughed jovially, finding their way once more to the side of the room where their drink was. They were shortly joined by Shelly, exhausted but smiling broadly.
“This is fun,” was all Shelly could get out, among gasps of air.
Frank nodded to their teammate, “it was so great to get to see you today. Despite everything, you know we’re always here for you. Whatever the result.”
The music blaring in the background seemed almost distant as the two marbles grinned at each other, appreciation for each other and their team dancing like the music throughout the room.
“Even if I-” Shelly began, but Frank shook their head and laughed.
“It’s funny, when you’ve been struggling to meet your expectations, and the harder you try, the worse everything crumbles around you.” Gloomo spoke to no one in particular, sheltered in the corner of a dark room with a bottle of water, listening vaguely to the sounds of laughter and camaraderie of fellow athletes the next room over. They were having a group meal all together to celebrate the end of the second event, the second week of racing.
The second week. All it took was two weeks and Team Plasma were out of the running entirely. They had just about scraped through the previous week, albeit not particularly well, and had got off to a fairly average start. But it fell apart.
“At least I didn’t ‘DNF’,” Gloomo muttered, once more into the darkness. They had stepped out to get some quiet. There was something difficult about smiling in the presence of others who didn’t feel your pain or understand your frustrations. Which was silly, Gloomo reflected, every marble athlete faced their failures alongside their triumphs. This was just one of those failures that Team Plasma had to face. But it didn’t make it any easier, especially as they were still trying to get rolling properly having returned to main competitions.
The shadows wavered and Gloomo paused to take note of their surroundings. It seemed to be some extra dining room that came off from the main one. Tables lurked like statues, the chairs piled on top sat silently and still, a slightly unnerving sight through the small beams of light that flickered in through the door. Yes, this was definitely the end of Gloomo’s run in this competition, but that didn’t mean it was the end. Sighing, Gloomo sipped some more water then hesitated.
“Don’t stop rolling, just because someone has put an obstacle in your way. Get through it. Like Mandarin did at the end of the race before last. And they are still going.” Gloomo smiled and rolled towards the door, ready to embrace the friendship that had made this bitter defeat much easier than it otherwise would have been.
Blaze returned to their room following the meal and paused by their bedside table, smiling at a picture of their family. What they wouldn’t give to go to them right this second, and to their wonderful team who had been by their side since that first day they got together on Sunspot Beach. This competition had been a wonderful opportunity and, while short lived, had been an excellent experience that Blaze had enjoyed every second of. Of course there was some disappointment, every marble wants to prove themself, but Blaze had no doubts that their efforts would be celebrated by their team when Blaze returned to them.
Blaze gazed out of the window and watched the stars begin to twinkle high in the sky above, as the sunset rippled through the sky like a blanket that covered the world first in beautiful oranges and reds, and then in a fascinating darkness. It was still unbelievable to Blaze that, as reserve, they had been personally selected by Coach Eclipse, but then Blaze had always put lots of effort into matching the team’s skill and striving for greatness. “And that’s a wonderful thing,” Eclipse had smiled at them.
In the end, while Blaze looked back to the room in which they had been staying for the competition, a defeat was never the end of the road. Competitions never stop for marbles, and the Solar Flares were determined to find their way out of the Marble League Showdown and especially do better than they had done in previous competitions. There was no better time than now.
Darkness crept over the sky, burrowing its way through small gaps between the distant lights of the nearby cities as Azure sat, unmoving, in a small glade that twinkled slightly underneath the lights of the first stars. It had been an hour or so, and Azure had only just begun to notice the chill setting in in the soft breeze.
Another moment passed, and a slight disturbance in the grass nearby was the only indication that Azure was no longer alone.
“Azure! I thought I’d find you here. We’re all looking for you, you know?”
“53 points,” was all Azure responded, becoming suddenly very interested in a nearby leaf on the floor. “We were worried about you,” Cerulean continued, coming closer again to where Azure sat silently.
“53 points,” repeated Azure, not turning around. The air grew briefly tense and awkward, as a soft wind rippled through the trees.
“Well, yes. It’s not great. I know you’re disappointed. We all are. But you did your best, and that’s all we can ask of you. And you did pretty good in your third race. Don’t give up yet.”
“Give up!?” Azure spat bitterly, turning to face their friend and teammate suddenly. “What’s the use? I’m already out, I couldn’t give more even if I wanted to!” Cerulean didn’t respond, and just looked on in concern as a tear rolled down Azure’s face. Azure softened and shook their head. “I’m sorry. I know what you mean. You’re right. I’m disappointed. Beyond disappointed. But, I suppose, there’s always next time.” Azure smiled slightly and rolled forwards.
“I fancy something warm. Join me?”
In the distance, another marble sat in the silence of a dark room, staring solemnly into the darkness. Wospy had already spoken to their teammates, but was still struggling to come to terms with everything. They’d had their failures before, but the intensity of emotion that came with a DNF in the final race of the week was hitting them particularly hard. It had been stressful before the race, sitting in 28th position, but a DNF was the worst possible outcome and had resulted in elimination at the first stage.
“It’s not even like I had a particularly amazing finish all week, and now I can’t do anything to bring it back.”
The room said nothing in response. Wospy sighed and lay down on their bed, closing their eyes. The events of the week flashed through their mind, in some sort of bright blur. The excitement, the tragedies, the laughter and the tears. This competition that had only just begun, even if rather unexpectedly after Wispy was pulled out last minute from a training injury, had now also ended for Wospy. It seemed somewhere between an incredible experience that brought the teams closer together, but also highly isolating as it was a single marble event. Wospy had been chosen to stand in for Wispy. And Wospy let their team down.
They had all supported Wospy afterwards, patted them on the back and said their “It’s okay”s, and “You did what you could with no preparation,” but Wospy knew that they all felt gutted deep down, and were only hiding it for Wospy’s sake. Staring at the ceiling, Wospy reflected while listening to the distant hum of marbles celebrating and going about their lives. Did the team think that Wispy would have done it better? But Wospy knew it wasn’t Wispy’s fault, and at the very least, they knew they now had plenty of time to prepare for the team’s next competition. But that didn’t feel as much of a good thing as they wished it felt.
Eventually, as the moon peered in through the windows and the world went quiet, Wospy drifted off to sleep.
“HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLO EVERYBODY! AND WELCOME TO THE MARBLE SPORTS WORLDWIDE PODCAST!”
The marble known as Commander Wof groggily opened their eyes to the popcorn ceiling above. They rolled over to find Brendan, co-host of the Marble Sports Worldwide Podcast, standing on the bed next to them fully dressed and ready to roll.
“Wof, come on!” exclaimed Brendan. “Today’s the big day!”
Wof pulled their sheets over their head, attempting to block out the blinding sunlight cascading through their hotel room windows. “I know…I’m excited…can you just give me five —”
“No! I can’t give you five minutes. I’ve waited six years for this, and we’ve finally made it. MarbleCon 2025.”
Conceived in April of 2019 as a “worldwide convention where all the marble sports fans can come together and talk”, MarbleCon 2025 was the culmination of years of passion and planning among marble sports professionals. It was something that Jelle themself had dreamed of since their marble runs became internationally recognized: a place where athletes and teams could trade off meet and greets, media personnel could host live shows, and the tradition surrounding marble sports could be celebrated by as many fans as possible. Since receiving a press pass for MSWP in March 2024, Brendan and Wof had been hard at work, committed to ensuring that MarbleCon 2025 would be everything they wanted it to be and more.
“Big X called me while you were fast asleep,” noted Brendan as Wof sorted through their luggage, searching for their green MSPN-branded T-shirt. “I was already up. We met for coffee. Talked through our interview later today. It’s gonna be fun.”
Wof pulled their T-shirt over themself, clearing their throat. “Did they mention anything about their application?”
Brendan laughed. “Technically, no. But they had, like, the biggest smirk on their face when I asked about the expansion team rumors…”
“I don’t wanna know! I thought we were over stuff getting leaked in this community.” Adjusting their glasses, Wof opened their laptop to check the MSW Podcast Discord, typing up a short message for #mswp-announcements:
@everyone
Today’s the day we’ve all been waiting for: the start of MarbleCon 2025!
You can find us in row 20 of section 3. Can’t wait to meet y’all soon!
“Everyone seems really excited. I’m so happy we’re doing this.”
Brendan laughed. “Now’s not the time to get sappy, Wof. But, yeah, like, me too.”
The sun had just broken the horizon when Brendan and Wof crossed the pedestrian bridge to the convention center within Tide Tower, newly constructed by the sports tycoon of the same name to house the convention and future tourists to the Nijellen. Casen and Johnny Marble were waiting for the co-hosts when they arrived at the MSW Podcast’s designated booth, which included a set from which they would record their first live shows in the podcast’s history.
“Everything’s set up. Johnny’s about to test the mic,” Casen piped up.
“HELLO MARBLE SPORTS FANS!” boomed Johnny Marble. “I am Johnny Marble, here with the Marble Sports Worldwide news! And I’m still not fired yet!”
Feedback crackled through the speakers. “Uh…I’ll make sure to gain stage when we’re live,” promised Casen. “Brendan, want to check levels?”
As Brendan tested the mic, Wof scanned through their itinerary for the convention. “I can’t believe we signed on for this much. Are we crazy?”
“Always have been. That’s why I love ya, Wof,” replied Brendan. “For believing in all of my wild ideas.”
“Well, at least we’ll be on time for all of these. Considering we’re already here.”
“I dunno…” wondered Brendan. “I promised Stynth I would meet them for Momo’s Dumplings at 1:30. Could be a tight squeeze for our afternoon slot.”
Wof sighed. “Stynth won’t let you be late. They’ll tell you to do takeout.”
“I know.”
Day 1
The JMR Panel
With fans applauding Johnny Marble’s news segment, a familiar cyan marble covered in red and green stripes snuck behind the backstage curtain.
“Hallo, everyone!” said Mellacus, sporting a sharp suit and tie. “I’m glad to see you all made it here safely. Everyone else is on their way, they’re just finishing up brunch, so I’ll make a short speech to bridge the gap.”
Brendan embraced Mell, giving them a nice pat on the back. “Sounds awesome. Let’s do this.”
“And now, our first guest…we couldn’t think of a better way to open MarbleCon 2025 than to have the passion, beauty, and brilliance behind the operation join us,” said Wof. “For the first time since Episode 20 of the MSW Podcast, let’s all give a warm welcome to JMRC President Mellacus!”
Fans roared as Mellacus drew back the curtains, their Mellospace Industries pin glimmering in the fluorescent convention lights. Mell outstretched their arms, mimicking a plane flying through the sky as they rolled to their seat onstage.
“This is a day we’ve been looking forward to for six years. You’ve all worked so hard, and now, we’re here. MarbleCon 2025.”
The convention center erupted in celebration as banners came down from the ceiling on cue, identifying all of the series and co-sponsors supporting the convention. The largest and most ornate banner of all was for the Marble League, stretching across the entire width of the facility.
“Long have we waited since Episode 11A, when I mentioned how much Jelle likes to share their experiences talking about marbles and wants to share that with the world. We dreamt what it would be like to have fans meet and receive autographs from Jelle, cosplay as their favorite athletes, and do a live show. You asked if we could imagine it, and we made it a reality. It literally did happen – we are truly living our dream.”
The crowd cheered for minutes. Mell grinned widely the whole time, then slowly and dramatically lifted the microphone back to their mouth. “And now – for the friends I wouldn’t be here without – please welcome the JMR Committee!”
Rounding the curtain, a line of current and former committee members crowded the stage, among them: Little Mighty, Darkarchon, Stynth, Betawolfs, Gee, Alayjo, Fouc, Spex, Valencia Parker, Minty, Killian Bladestar, Ghost, Mesp, Novawolf, Smacg, The Emperor, Orbitball, and Archie. In honor of Shino, who never RSVPed to MarbleCon 2025, Stynth held up a small green Marblopoly house to the camera before tossing it into the crowd. The crowd cheered, then stood and gasped.
From the audience, a bright orange marble donning gangsta marble bling and blue flowers hopped on stage, boosted by none other than the voice of the marble sports world, Greg Woods. “Are you ready???” they boomed. “We are rolling — rolling — rolling —”
Jelle cleared their throat, inhaling deeply and letting out a long “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO’RANGERS!” chant.
MarbleCon 2025 had begun.
The X-Camo Panel
It was five minutes past two when Wof spotted Brendan rolling back to their booth. “I thought you were getting takeout.”
“We did!” insisted Brendan. “But then I ran into Stynth’s Marblearth colleagues. They’re all working on RetRollSpectives again.”
“Exciting stuff. But you kept X-Camo waiting!”
“It’s fine,” Big X assured, dapping Brendan up. “We know Brendan’s always late. Plus, it’s not like we’re rushing to head home.”
“Is Marl Desert rough this time of year?” asked Wof.
“It’s rough every time of the year,” answered Cam. “That’s what makes it fun.”
Brendan signaled to Casen, who gave a thumbs-up back as they put on their headset. “And we are BACK! For the first time since the Fan Team Contest, checkin’ in with Marble League hopefuls X-Camo! Welcome to the show; how’s everyone doing?”
“Honestly, the crowd’s almost overbearing. Ironically, I’m finding it hard to blend in,” admitted Sneaky.
“That’s because you wore your chartreuse camo today!” quipped Sniper. “I mean, not really. It’s because of our application.”
“Well, we know how hard you’ve been training at the Stealth Base since the contest. But do you really think that’s enough to prepare you for the greatest stage of them all? Do you really think that’s enough to beat your biggest rivals — the Savage Speeders?”
“Come on, Marblegut,” chuckled Big X. “It’s more than prepared us. What we learned after we failed to advance past that round of voting was that the Fan Team Contest would be the easy way out. Look at what happened to the teams that won the votes. How much success have they really had?”
Wof shrugged. “Depends on what you think of the Sliders.”
Cam shrugged. “Disclaimer: we don’t think about them at all. All we know is that you can’t be countin’ X-Camo out.”
“Oh, that’s a good quote,” replied Brendan. “Write that down, Mister Wof.”
The BGBT Panel
“MARBLE SPORTS FANS OF ALL AGES. WELCOME TO THE SHOWDOWN.”
“In this corner, weighing in at close to 250 episodes…Let it Roll. And in the other corner, still under 200, we have the Marble Sports Worldwide Podcast. ARE. YOU. READY?!”
“Hey!” yelled Brendan from the other side of the stage. “Scheduling is hard, you know. And honestly, quality over quantity.”
“Woof, woof,” barked Term. “You put up more excuses than Speedy after Marblocross.”
“Andddddd hi guys!” interrupted Wof. “I’m Commander Wof, and this is such an amazing opportunity. Only the third time we’re collabing, and the first time live, of course!”
“Oh, I’m just messing with you guys, you know how I love Brendan. Even when they support the Speeders.”
Nonagon cringed. “Yeah, aren’t you a Cat’s Eyes fan?”
Dekker snickered. “I thought ‘ey liked the Limers.”
“They’re all in my top four!”
Wof shook their head. “I thought the O’rangers and Mellow Yellow were in your top four.”
“I…but…Look, I like who I like, alright?”
Term howled. “Still messing with you guys.”
“I’m not,” chimed in ThesaurusDinosaurus. “You can’t root for those pesky Speeders and my precious O’rangers.”
To the side, Hector and Sky chatted with Casen and Johnny Marble. “What’s your over/under before we get to our scripted cold open?” asked Sky.
“Heh. Mine’s at least twenty minutes,” Hector replied.
“Knowing Brendan? We’re lucky if we make our dinner reservation at 9:30,” admitted Casen.
“That’s three hours away…yeah. I can see why you think that,” agreed Sky.
Day 2
The Fan Panel
The first fan to roll up to the stage was Pesky, who donned a few different shades of green against a bright orange streak, wrapping around themself as if a hairpin turn. Their lanyard included several pins from Project Marblearth, the Marble Invites, and a Thunderbolts fan movement advocating for Thunderstorm to get fired. They cleared their throat. “This is a wonderful show that brings together the wider marble community. Four words: WORLDWIDE Marble Sports Podcast.”
The crowd cheered as Pesky bowed, passing the microphone off to famed adventurer and former JMRC member, Killian Bladestar.
“In my times of adventuring, I’ve always listened to the MSW Podcast. I’ve enjoyed the banters between Brendan and Wof and the various guests they had, though what I’ve enjoyed the most are the Wof Tunes: they’re some banger songs that I listen to a lot when going on hikes or runs. Hope the best for you all in your future endeavors!”
“Thanks so much!” said Wof, grinning widely. “I hope you’re as excited for my show tomorrow as I am.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world! Adventure can wait until MarbleCon is over,” promised Bladestar, passing the mic to MarblesForAutism.
“I enjoy the memes and the laughs — and of course, ‘I saw a triangle and thought four,’” quipped MarblesForAutism as they handed the mic off to Bill Frosby. The audience laughed as a rogue fan held up a sign of a triangle with the number four inside it.
“I enjoy Brendan and Wof’s personalities most of all! They’re both friendly and so easy to talk to,” stated Bill. “Just by talking to them, you can tell how passionate they both are about marble sports and I always appreciate that from them!”
Wof blushed. “Thanks, Bill! Right back at ya – we’ll always appreciate the wisdom you bring to the show.”
Bill passed the mic next to a translucent greenish marble, who carried a mailbag sporting a Raspberry Racers, Phoenix, and Marblearth pin. Edu G.J. cleared their throat.
“This program was one of my gateways to a wider experience. MSW helped me discover there is more to the sport than just the action on track. The discussion around the events, the cautious analyses, curiosities, and even aspects regarding organization and series promotion. The effort to expand the horizons by bringing light to new and uprising competitive series. The energical voice and the factual voice give light to fans and personalities alike and explore themes that no one else dared to bring up. Pieces that make for a unique talk show in Marblearth. Now, all that’s left for me is to appreciate and thank you for the years of service that you’ve delivered to the marble sports and its community.”
A collective aww came from the audience as Brendan started tearing up. “That…really means a lot, Edu.”
Wof slid their co-host a box of tissues from across the desk, wiping their eyes with one of them. “We appreciate you so much. Thank you.”
Edu handed the mic to a fellow Raspberry Racers fan, MSW Podcast Graphic Designer Piney. “What I’ll always appreciate about MSWP is the people it brought me to. It was exciting, way back when, to be part of a small community for something new, fresh, and unique. I don’t remember what drew me to it, but if I never tuned in, I never would have known the group of awesome people that I happily consider my friends whether MSWP is here or not,” they said, flashing a large button pin and adding, “Hashtag Night Squad Nation!”
A translucent purple marble with white streaks spoke next. Fans in the near vicinity gasped as they realized that Tonio, the host of the series “Power Ranking Power Hour”, was in their presence. It was Tonio’s first public appearance since predicting Team Plasma to win Marble League 2023, after which point they had moved their show permanently online.
“Thanks for everything MSWP. You’re one of the few groups that consistently follows marble content. I will miss your podcast but I will wish you luck in your endeavors.”
“Because you’re a fan of the Limers. Why the Limers? Because they acted like trash.”
“Well uh…I’ll take them out of my top 4,” promised Brendan. “Okay, who’s next? Only have time for a few more.”
“Eh, I guess I’ll go,” said a blue and white striped marble, motioning for someone to pass them the mic. “Thanks. Suffice it to say that MSWP has come a long way and that you have so much to be proud of. The best thing that’s come out of this is that you’ve had fun sharing what you’re passionate about with other fans, from hot takes to deep analyses to big ideas to trivia and everything in between. When you look back on everything you’ve ever done, I hope you remember that more than anything, and I’m excited to see what you all do next. Keep on rolling.”
“Roll on, Stynth! Although you’ll always be wrong about the Savage Speeders not needing to swap out their Marbula One roster,” asserted Brendan. “Swifty’s how we got the gold.”
Stynth shrugged. “If you say so.”
“…and we have time for one more!” said Wof. “Who’s it gonna be?”
The microphone passed from Stynth through a gaggle of marbles, including graphic designer Jack Ironhide; a variety of guest stars, such as Red Pandas founder Dave, John Wood, Novawolf, Justin, ZombieZander, Sman, Titan, Steve, Sucho, MarblesForAutism, Ramen, Super Yak, Ghazi, Black Panther, and Jack; other custom comp creators; other podcast hosts; and one of the greatest longtime supporters: Lisa.
Lisa handed the mic off to Eliezer, who graciously extended it to another striped marble, this one donning red and white. The marble known as Akanon drew their own reaction from the crowd as they rolled forward to the front.
“I’ve been listening to the MSWP for years now, and have consistently been to live recordings. The level of communication Brendan and Wof are able to have with live listeners while recording episodes is unlike any podcast I’ve seen, and makes the podcast feel just as much like a discussion as a podcast, making it far more immersive to listen to,” said Akanon. “Thank you, MSWP.”
The Surprise Panel
After their afternoon break, where they gathered with media networks from Project Marblearth and Marbles Today to The Marble Report and All the Marbles, Brendan eagerly shuffled around in their seat waiting for the mystery athlete who had agreed to interview with them. “Wof. You gotta tell me. I’ve had too much mocha madness today, I am bouncing off the walls.”
“What’s that? I don’t like that tone. Why are you — oh.”
Approaching Casen to get fitted for their microphone was a multi-Marble League gold medalist, sibling to one of the greatest athletes who’d ever lived, the Maroon Missile — Rapidly.
“Wof, I…I need to use the restroom.”
“They were the only one who responded! Either that or Manager Savvy found a way to intercept all of our other emails to other athletes. We’ll never know.”
Brendan wiped their head, which was beading with sweat. “I don’t have enough time, do I? Oh, what am I gonna say?”
“Don’t say you were ‘right’, that your ‘yelling and ranting was validated’, or that ‘the world of marble sports is in good hands’.”
“Wof! I’m being serious.”
Rapidly rolled over to Wof, giving them a firm bump. “It’s an honor,” the athlete said. “Truly. Thanks for your invite.”
“Thanks for coming on!” Wof said, smiling as widely as they could. “I’m sure you know Brendan.”
“Ah,” Rapidly swiveled around. “Congrats to you.”
“Uh um what?! For what?!”
“For being right!” answered Rapidly, gesturing to Brendan for a hug. From behind both of them, Wof witnessed perhaps the most awkward hug known to marblekind.
“Uh…ah. Thank you. That was so nice,” replied Brendan. “You’re so chill, honestly.”
“My pleasure. I always respect when the media keeps me in check. Even though, you know, I’ve already won several championships for my team.”
Brendan went silent.
“But that’s beside the point! So Wof! You said you prepared questions for me. Let ‘em roll.”
Day 3
The M-Games Panel
“Hey Wof, mind testing the mic today? I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“And when has that stopped you before? I know how often you went out when you were studying in Pastone. Or after you go spin disc golfing,” answered Wof.
“I…okay, yeah, you got me there,” admitted Brendan. “I just want to save my voice for commentating. You know how long I’ve waited for this.”
“Yeah, I’m just teasing ya. Oh look, there they are!”
The eight teams arrived side-by-side, opening all of the convention center’s doors for no better reason than dramatic effect. Just ahead of them, convention officials were clearing the last of the emptied booths for a ramp and ring, which upon setting in place, they promptly lit on fire.
“You know, I’m shocked they’re allowing equipment like that indoors,” noted Wof.
“You can thank Tide for that,” replied Casen. “It’s their equipment from the Seven Seas Circuit, their building tower, and their insurance.”
“Insurance covers this?”
Casen shrugged. “Look! The Woodland Foxes are testing it.”
They watched as the team’s reserve, Hickory, sprinted across the floor and nailed their dismount from the ramp, sailing through the ring of fire and traveling fifty meters into the soft barriers padding the wall.
“An epic showing from Hickory!” commentated Brendan. “And even if that was a test run, the Woodland Foxes have to feel great about that showing, as does Hershy, who for the first time, is bringing M-Games to a live audience of avid marble sports fans!” Brendan cleared their throat. “Toss me the mic. I’m good now. Heck, I could do this all day.”
The Wof Tunes Show
Donning a flowing black robe with a bowtie adorning the top, Wof gestured to Brendan for a glass of water as they waited backstage for the lights to dim.
Brendan chuckled, their voice cracking. “You know, we should do an episode where we see how long we can make it without needing to talk to each other. I probably wouldn’t make it five minutes!”
Wof smirked, trying to contain their laughter.
“Anyways, you’ve got this,” said Brendan, giving Wof a light bump of encouragement. “See you out there.”
“Thank you all for coming,” said Johnny Marble as the lights dimmed. “We’d like to give you a warm welcome to the closing act of MarbleCon 2025: the Wof Tunes Show! Our very own Commander Wof has prepared a collection of their greatest hits to share with us all. Let’s roll on, marble sports fans, and give it up for Wof!!!”
Wof took a deep breath and burst through the curtains to overwhelming applause as the intro to “MEE6 Got Us Rollin’ In Love” kicked in. Classics like “Roll Me To The Moon” and “Rollylujah” opened the show, followed by “Never Gonna Roll You Up”, “Marb Like Me”, and a MarBeats medley before closing with the final Wof Tune. Somehow, Wof had managed to keep the song a surprise from everyone, even the rest of the MSWP crew, but they had rehearsed it daily for years and executed their performance flawlessly.
As the final chord of “Wof’s Way” rang out, the crowd gave an ovation, throwing roses onto the stage of the theater. In the very center of the room, Wof could see Brendan grinning right at them and mouthing, “We did it.”
“Thank you! Thank y’all so much!” yelled Wof, bowing. “For the show! For MarbleCon! For everything! We did it.”
As Wof gazed back at their friend, they could swear Brendan was being framed through the screen of a phone. The lights went out above the stage, dimming the theater as the crowd noise, too, seemed to fade.
Present Day
“HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLO EVERYBODY! AND WELCOME TO THE MARBLE SPORTS WORLDWIDE PODCAST!”
The marble known as Commander Wof groggily opened their eyes to the popcorn ceiling above. They rolled over in their bed and swiped to answer their phone, finding Brendan, co-host of the Marble Sports Worldwide Podcast, video chatting them from hundreds of kilometers away.
“Wof, come on!” exclaimed Brendan. “Today’s the big day!”
Wof pulled their sheets over their head, attempting to block out the blinding bright screen of their phone. “I know…I’m excited…can you just give me five —”
“Excited to finally move on?” Brendan sighed. “You know, we’ve had a good run. But seeing everything that’s changed…the JMRC knew when to move on. I think it’s time we do the same.”
Wof was home, wherever Wof identifies home to be. Although Wof’s dream of MarbleCon 2025 would effectively end with that of the Marble Sports Worldwide Podcast, they knew there were still reasons to be excited. New career opportunities were on the horizon, ones Wof could still celebrate with their marble sports friends. Team Momo and the Raspberry Racers were still competing, and Wof was sure to still be following them, even if they couldn’t follow the videos as frequently as in the past. Even if there was too much that Wof had learned about the troubles behind the scenes, there was still a reason to be here: in the end, they were free to keep rolling on and never let go of their dreams.
“Besides, there’s no one else I would have wanted to do this with than you.”
Wof smiled. “Thanks, buddy. I’m gonna miss ya.”
“Wof, come on! I’m not going anywhere. Maybe we’ll grow apart, I dunno, I’m not gonna overanalyze it. But there’ll always be a soft spot in my life for you, and what we created.”
“Brendan. I’m supposed to be the philosophical one. How much Magic Mind have you been taking?”
“Shut up!” Brendan laughed. “You know, it’s funny. I got something physically in the mail today. A bright orange envelope, kinda official-looking. I would ask if we could open it during the mailbag, but I got carried away.”
“Of course you did.”
“You’re gonna love it.”
The End
Credits
Writer: Stynth
Additional Writing: Pesky, Killian Bladestar, MarblesForAutism, Bill Frosby, Edu G.J., Piney, Tonio, Akanon
Fragmented rose-pink clouds decorated the orange-yellow sky. A thin morning haze hung over the city streets down below. The moon had disappeared beneath the horizon and the sun, burning the wispy edges of the clouds with its light, had emerged in its place.
The cycle of the heavens was beginning anew, and a new day was breaking over Buzznya.
Gliding Glaciers
Leaning against the balcony’s railing, Frost blinked the bleariness out of their eyes. After staying awake all night in a dark room, even the soft light of the morning was too sharp and bright for them to stomach.
Is it really eight A.M. already? Frost wondered to themselves. Their night had started with commiserating their bottom-two standings alongside the Swarm, but, as was often the case with the Swarm, it had devolved into an all-night jam session. Never mind that out of the five of them, none of Frost’s own team members were musically skilled.
It was fun, but seeing dawn break made reality bite hard. The final event, and their last chance to pull their team out from last place, was creeping closer.
Mustering any enthusiasm for it felt impossible. Their position was good—Alpine was as reliable a sand racer as ever—but the top three racers looked impenetrable. Even then, a miracle gold medal wouldn’t let them break the top half.
I shouldn’t have agreed to do the final event, Frost thought. Maybe Alpine or Iceberg could handle something so hopeless… I’m just going to crack under the pressure.
Caught up in their introspection, Frost didn’t notice either the balcony door behind them clicking open or Shimmer’s slow approach. It took a gentle tap to the side to bring them back to reality.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Shimmer sighed. “The infinite cosmic ballet.”
“Uh…it’s nice.”
“Excited for the race tomorrow? First time you’ll be on the M1 track with your biggest rivals.” Shimmer sounded more excited for it than they were.
“I… I don’t know. Not really.”
“Whaaaaaat?” Shimmer exclaimed. “The final event is the most fun! All the excitement, the closing ceremony, partying until dawn afterwards—”
“Ugh! How on Marblearth is fun what you’re thinking about right now?”
Startled by the raise of their voice, a bird broke from its perch on the adjacent balcony. Frost watched it fly in the direction of the city shamefully.
“Urk… sorry for yelling at you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to louder stuff,” Shimmer laughed. “If you’ve got something you want to let out, don’t hold back.”
Frost shut their eyes tight and swallowed.
“We’ve just spent the season humiliating ourselves. Knocked out of the heats most of the time, falling short of the medal when we’re not. I just… I hate how embarrassing it is to be last. I hate that if I don’t do well enough tomorrow—and against you in particular—we’ll still be there. I’ve wanted to be an athlete since the moment I knew it was something you could do. But I’m probably just not cut out for it.”
Pressure built against the dam. Frost forced themselves to hold back the hot tears that welled at the back of their eyes. They waited for a reply from Shimmer, but nothing came. Shimmer was silent, their easy smile still turned towards the horizon.
Eventually, Shimmer turned back to them. They finally spoke.
Shining Swarm
“You like competing, right?”
“I… yes,” Frost admitted sheepishly. “I do.”
“Of course. Otherwise you wouldn’t have worked so hard to be here. Well—and don’t take this as me saying you’ve got no actual problem—but it’s pretty amazing to do what you love for a living, isn’t it?”
Short of an objection, it was Frost’s turn to go silent.
“My parents weren’t originally from Galeem, and they had crummy jobs they didn’t like in a completely unfamiliar place. But when I wanted my first guitar, that thankless work paid for it. Music and marble athletics alike, good times and bad times, I remind myself just how much effort has gone into building a life where my job is to follow my dreams in front of an audience that loves me for it. And then setbacks like these don’t feel so bad.”
“But what if my career just goes downhill forever, and then everyone hates me for ruining the team?” Frost cried.
“It only feels like forever because you’re young. Why waste your youth catastrophizing about certain doom?”
Frost’s eyes welled with tears. Shimmer nudged them closer and pulled them in for a comforting hug.
“Consider this an old-timer’s permission to be proud of yourself. You’ve worked hard, and I know you’re going to do your best tomorrow. But in the meantime, you can cry if you need to.”
Frost sobbed louder, pulling Shimmer in tightly. They cried until they were shaking, so exhausted of tears that all they could do was heave ragged breaths.
“I‘m sorry… I shouldn’t make you deal with me in this state.”
“Don’t worry. Just let it all out.”
Shimmer hugged them until they calmed, their breathing gradually slowing down. When they seemed to have relaxed, Shimmer tapped them gently on the side.
“I’m gonna go back inside and get you something to drink, alright?”
When Frost nodded, they withdrew inside. Scattered around the common room were innumerable discarded cans of Non-Descript Soda and ice cream wrappers.
Sterling and Sparkle had fallen asleep next to each other on the sofa, an XLR cable draped over the two of them from when they were duetting earlier. Alpine and Polar had taken the sofa across from them, while Iceberg was on the floor. All five of them looked absolutely wiped.
Only Glimmer was still awake; by the looks of it, everyone else had left, probably to get a more comfortable sleep. It was the spitting image of some of their more inglorious nights touring as a band.
“You talk to Frost? They looked pretty upset.” Glimmer asked as Shimmer ran a glass under the tap and snagged a packet of cashews from the minibar.
“Yeah…not doing so hot. But they’ll be okay.”
“You know, you haven’t said anything about how you feel. Not to pressure you, but if you can’t beat Frost we’ll get last.”
The senior of the two sighed as they pulled the tap closed. “Well… come what may, right? I think we put up a pretty good fight.”
“More roll out than roll over?”
“For sure.”
(Art Credit: Momoikkai)
Team Plasma
To Ecto,
Please make your way to the top of the Buzznyan Foothills by 10 a.m.We have a surprise waiting for you!
Signed, Your secret supporters!
Ecto didn’t know what to make of the note that had been pushed under their door. It hadn’t been there when they’d fallen asleep the night before, and they couldn’t pin the penmanship to any of their teammates. Thus, they knew only two things about its authorship: that whoever sent it had access to the athletes’ village at night and knew their room number. Simple deduction confirmed that it was almost certainly a fellow athlete. The question was of who.
Against their better instincts, they followed the notes’ instructions and made their way to the foothills where Team Plasma had earned their Steeplechase gold. They arrived to find the designated spot deserted by all but local sightseers.
Have I been pranked? Ecto wondered. All of the athletes they’d met had been decent folk. They wouldn’t waste their precious pre-event preparation time. And yet—
“Hey! Hey! Ecto! Over here!”
A loud howl rang out from behind them, startling Ecto. Their gaze snapped over to the track in the distance. Two marbles had seemingly worked their way up the sand hills from the bottom and were slowly approaching them.
Ecto recognized them.
“Club? Fenrir?”
They made up some of the distance, meeting their fellow athletes halfway. Both were visibly exhausted and covered in sand.
“I apologize for not looking particularly dignified right now,” Club lamented. “Somebody decided we should race down and up while we waited for you.”
“Yeah, and it was awesome,” added Fenrir.
“Don’t worry about it.” It couldn’t bother Ecto less how either of them looked. “You’re the ones who left me that note?”
Composure regained, Club nodded. “Yes. Fenrir suggested it, but it’s a joint venture.”
“As fellow expansion teams and Season 4 rookies, we wanted to throw our support behind you for the race. Yeah, you’re starting in thirteenth, but you’re an awesome racer!”
“There’s nothing I can tell you about perseverance through trials that you haven’t learned in equal measure. So I’ll say this—however this ends, you should be proud of yourself. What you’ve achieved is no small feat.”
“That’s why we got you this!!”
From behind a nearby thicket of bushes, Club produced a neatly-wrapped bouquet. Lavender and edelweiss intertwined with yellow poppies, wrapped with a ribbon in Team Plasma’s signature red.
“Your team’s story has won everyone’s hearts,” Club explained. “You deserve something that expresses that.”
“I wanted to get you a giant steak, but Club said you liked flowers. Maybe another time?”
Ecto accepted the flowers just seconds before they burst into tears. No matter what, they would have so much love and potential waiting for them at the finish line.
“You two… thank you so much,” Ecto spoke through sobs. “I won’t ever forget this, I promise you. I’m going to make you both proud.”
Thunderbolts
In these less-bustling last few weeks, most of the Thunderbolts had devolved into mindless chatting during their thrice-weekly team meetings. As captain and final-event pick, Thunder had tried to steer it towards more productive things, but after they’d stumbled into an argument about the existence of aliens more than twice, they were ready to admit things weren’t working.
“So, what are you all looking forward to when you get back to Stormholm?” Shock asked, a yawn warbling underneath their words.
“Fewer bees,” Bolt groaned. “If I never see a bee again in my life it’ll be too soon.”
Shock idly tapped the table with their pen as they thought. “Probably the snow. Oh, and no more events.”
“I want to actually try that cereal bar that I endorsed,” Lightning added.
“I miss my video games,” Zap lamented. “What about you, Thunder?”
All eyes turned to them. Though it wasn’t something they could confess to their team, Thunder had been ready to get the League over and done with for a while. They’d come to terms with performance disappointments early on, and fought to remain optimistic through the small upturns, but in the end, they wanted to rest.
A home-cooked breakfast. My neighbors. Knowing what I like at the store. Seeing my family without calling them. Cinnamon buns.
Still, they put on a brave face. “Nothing, really. Buzznya is fantastic, and I’m so proud of you all—”
“C’mon, cut the captain-y response,” Bolt interjected, followed by a chorus of agreement from the rest of the table. “There’s nothing you’re looking forward to? Really?”
“I… fine. What I want more than anything is a nice, big, freshly-baked cinnamon bun.”
Their confession was met with an uproar of applause, and no small amount of conspiratorial looks around the table. Thunder wondered if they’d missed something.
“Everything alright?” they asked.
“Well… uh, that works out pretty nicely, because we’ve got you something,” Zap said. Thunder didn’t get the chance to inquire as to what before Bolt procured a dark-blue box from underneath the table and dropped it in front of them.
It smelled amazing. Already, they were beginning to salivate.
“No way this is a—”
“C’mon, open it!” Lightning urged them.
Taking the hint, Thunder flipped the lid open. Inside the box was one giant, perfectly-baked, generously-iced cinnamon bun.
“For you! Carbs make you go fast… I think,” Shock added.
“Take your time. We don’t need a repeat of Shock’s Momotorway,” Bolt replied. “But, you’ve been working really hard, and we all wanted to show our appreciation, so…”
“It’s amazing. Thank you for everything,” Thunder said, filled with an upswell of pride. “I’ll do my best tomorrow, as always.”
“Goedspeed?” Bolt asked around the table, receiving a chorus of nods in response.
“One, two, three. Goedspeed!” everyone exclaimed, clinking their glasses together and laughing.
Midnight Wisps
“In what world is a circuit race a good finale!?”
The typical serenity that came with a hike through nature wasn’t present today. Wispy’s constant complaints were the furthest thing from such.
“I don’t know, but you’re gonna do fine out there,” Wospy reassured, resting next to Wispy on the trail’s side. “I don’t like it either, but you’re still gonna do—”
“Horrible? Pathetic? So bad that it’s gonna give our few remaining fans another reason to call us washed?” Wispy looked up to the greenery that served as the only shield from the afternoon sunlight. “We might as well be the Midday Wisps with how we’ll never make midnight strike again…”
“I mean, it is noon—hey, what was that for!?” Wospy asked, shooting a glare to Wespy, who had just given them a firm bump.
Wespy joined the pair of marbles. “It’s been another frustrating season, so I understand where you’re coming from. But you can’t just give up.”
“We were one of the first to be eliminated from contention, we’re being forced to do an event that we’re sure to fail like Marbula One, and we’ll never be able to prove ourselves as the champions we supposedly are…” A tear rolled down Wispy’s glass as they huffed. “Do I have to show up tomorrow?”
Out of the corner of their eye they saw Waspy and Wuspy rolling down excitedly. “There’s something amazing up ahead!” Waspy exclaimed. “C’mon, let’s get moving again!”
Wispy sighed as they started the trek up the trail once more. “Do you all really think I’ll do well tomorrow?”
“Yep!” Wuspy immediately answered. “You killed it at Honeydome in Marbula One, and you’re gonna kill it again for sure!”
“So what if we can’t win anything but an event medal anymore? Even if the odds are stacked against you, that doesn’t mean you can give up before the event even starts,” Waspy said. “We may not be in a position to get another overall podium, but we can still make our statement to Marblearth.”
Wispy gave them a quizzical look. “And that would be…?”
“We’re the Midnight Wisps,” Wespy responded. “We might not be champions every year, but we don’t give up. Midnight will always come again.”
The shadows from the leaves turned into blinding sunlight as Wespy finished speaking. After taking a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, Wispy looked out ahead.
Beyond the cliff they were standing on was a breathtaking view of Buzznya’s mountains situated behind a clear lake. It reflected the peaks and the clouds above perfectly.
(Art Credit: Momoikkai)
“It’s just like Midnight Hollow…” Wispy said, expression growing excited. “You think Buzznya has willow wisps? Can we go find them so I do well tomorrow!?”
“Who needs them for good luck? You have your Midnight Wisps cheering you on.” Wospy laughed.
Wispy pulled their teammates into an embrace, hoping the warmth of it would be able to communicate their gratitude for them.
Mellow Yellow
Yeller was not fond of interviews.
An Amalantian television channel had rented the studio and sent a reporter over. It was only polite to attend. But they were sweating under the studio lights, and the reporter was already asking pressing questions.
“That’s the big question, of course. You’ve never done a circuit race before, but you’re in for Honeydome. Can you tell us why you’ve taken up the mantle for the final event?”
Yeller blinked and tried their best to think.
“Um… I, uh…”
It was a sunny August afternoon when Yellow found Yeller, pitting against a bowling machine at a local batting cage as usual.
“Hey!” they called out. “Got a moment?”
Yeller’s bat clattered down on the gravel as they rushed, smiling, to meet Yellow. “Always! Everything alright, Cap?”
“All good over here. But we’ve gotta talk event allocations.”
Somehow Yeller perked up even more, enthusiasm radiating off of them in waves. Yellow passed them the event lineup document, detailing the qualifiers and League setup.
“Obviously we’re planning for if we qualify. Afraid there’s limited individuals. But they’re adding reserves to Swing Wave—uh, Legion March Wave—so you won’t be bored.”
Yeller smiled as they finished reading, not dissuaded at all. “Gotcha, Cap. I’ll give it my all in the Funnels, just like last year.”
It was characteristic of Yeller to take the initiative and decide their individual event for themselves. But Yellow had something else in mind.
“Actually…” Yellow began, “definitely take Funnels in qualifiers. But… if you think you’re up for it, I’d like it to be you in Honeydome.”
Previously so brimming with energy that they could hardly stay still, Yeller froze in place. Only the breeze and buzz of insects betrayed the passage of time.
“I… Cap, that’s a funny one!” Yeller eventually replied.
Yellow bit back a frown. “I’m not kidding.”
“Cap, uh… you really want that?” Yeller asked, staring blankly.
“Because I’ve never done a circuit racing track. And you have. I mean, I must’ve watched you at Short Circuit and Momotorway a thousand times each—and that’s not even counting Yellup—”
“Yellup’s taking Hurdles and Triathlon.”
Yeller took a deep breath. “It’s the final event, Cap. I’ll need a lot of training. You really wanna leave that up to me?”
“Look, I’m not gonna make you if you don’t want to. It’s your choice. But I’ve had enough shots. Right now, I want you to race with some of the greats.”
Yeller’s expression became resolute. “You’re sure?”
“Never been surer. They’re gonna set the starting grid based on the Sand Rally results, so I’ll take that, and I’ll do my best to net you a good starting position, alright?”
“I… Thank you, Cap. I’m gonna make you proud.”
Yeller opened their eyes again, facing their interviewer with a renewed smile.
“Well, as the greatest athlete I know said to me: why not?”
Team Momo
Why?
From sunrise to the current moment, that word had been on constant loop in Momomomo’s mind: why.
Nothing was going to get solved if they continued to stare at the sky in the hope they could turn one of the clouds into an answer. They turned away from the window to watch Momo and Mimo chatting amongst themselves.
“…why are you trusting me to do the final event?”
The sudden question immediately drew Momo and Mimo’s attention, yet they remained silent.
“It doesn’t make sense.” They paused to swallow down the sob that threatened to escape. “Just… why?”
Mimo rolled up to them and gave a gentle nudge. “It’s not like we’re playing for anything important anymore. So why not try something new?”
“You two are the ones who should be doing this.” They looked to Mimo, then to Momo. “One of the best to ever race and a Marbula One champion. You shouldn’t be allowing this—”
“You closed out last year’s Showdown so well!” Mimo interrupted. “Considering your fantastic finale performance got us that overall podium I lost in 2021… it’s an obvious choice for me on who should do this.”
Momomomo glanced at Momo. “But that means you should race, right? It only makes sense.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not doing it. If everyone expects me to do it, they won’t be prepared for you stealing the win away.”
Momomomo sighed, a faint wobble present in their voice. “I can’t shake this feeling that this is the wrong choice.”
Momo rolled away and retrieved something out of their bag. It didn’t take long for them to return with a glittering golden medal, one Momomomo recognized to be not from their surprise Relay victory but the Marbula One individual championship.
“Try this on,” they requested, handing the medal over.
Seeing no reason to not honor their simple request, Momomomo slipped the medal’s ribbon around them. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this.”
“Just getting you used to how your gold medal is gonna look on you tomorrow,” Momo answered. “You wear victory so naturally.”
A million possible responses immediately flooded Momomomo, yet all they could do was lose the battle to hold back tears.
“Oh, Mo and Momomo just got back to me,” Mimo said. “They found a place they want us to meet up at. Who’s up for some pre-victory dumplings?”
Momo’s expression lit up. “That sounds great!” They looked at Momomomo. “You down? Perhaps good food can clear your mind of any doubts you still have.”
“I’d love that,” they answered as they grabbed the medal’s ribbon. “Let me—”
“Keep that on. No better way to show others that you’re in this to win this. Just make sure it’s still in one piece when you give it back, okay?” Momo gave them a little bump. “I’m not sure how much replacement medals cost and I’d rather not find out.”
“Understood,” Momomomo replied with the first genuine smile they’ve had all day.
Team Galactic
When Team Galactic had been given their shared room in the Athletes’ Village, the first thing Cosmo had done was set up a telescope on the balcony. They were lucky enough to be on the top floor, with the best vantage point to observe the sky above. On troubled or lonely nights, they would gaze at the seemingly infinite stars, and find their troubles humbled by the vast and grand weight of everything that surrounded them.
Now, Starry was watching it be taken down.
“You’re packing it up already?” they asked, startling Cosmo, who’d been approached from behind.
“Yeah. We won’t be here much longer, and it won’t be any good tonight. I’ve cross-referenced every weather forecast available for Buzznya, and by the looks of it, heavy clouds are the best-case scenario.”
“Oh? Were you planning to divine the stars for the winner?” Starry teased.
Such an unscientific accusation, even one so clearly made in jest, had Cosmo blushing. “Not at all! I just… thought it might calm me down for tomorrow. Plus, I’d hardly need to look at the stars to pick the likely winner…”
“Well, I’d like to ask you to please leave it there for the moment. Astron and I were thinking of staying for the Showdown. Who knows, perhaps I could divine the stars to find out who’s winning that?”
Cosmo obliged, pushing the part they were disassembling back into its place. “Sorry about that.”
“No need; I never mentioned it. You’re welcome to stay too, if you’d like.”
“I’m surprised you are, honestly,” Cosmo mused. “The Showdown’s great, but I’m exhausted. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”
“Fine, all things considered. You know how well I’ve done at the Honeydome before, even if a climb is necessary. And on such a technical track, catching out less experienced racers should not be difficult.”
Cosmo couldn’t help but smile. “That’s our Starry. Sometimes I think I feel all of your anxiety for you.”
Their comment earned a frown from Starry. “I know you’re not being literal, but I’d hate to burden you with that. And I do get nervous myself, believe it or not. Rather, I think you feel that concern because you care about me.”
Starry’s frankness made Cosmo flinch. Being a scientist didn’t make them blind to their emotions, but Starry could still paralyze them with a well-timed insight. “I… Yes, you’re probably right.”
“And that’s what makes you captain, and me the racer. You’re the one who remembered that it was Astron’s first medal, who bought Quasar their favorite pastry, who knew Pulsar was getting sick even before they did. Your big heart.”
“I… Thank you, Starry. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“They’re my sincere feelings. Now, with your stargazing ruined, let’s find a way to celebrate another night in Buzznya, hm? Maybe a calming game of chess?”
“Hmm… I could agree to that.”
Raspberry Racers
A bottle of raspberry-leaf tea rolled around in its carrying bag as Razzy climbed the athletes’ village stairs, one final exertion after a final day of training. They stopped lower than usual, on a floor other than their own, and knocked on an unfamiliar door.
“Hi, Razzy. It’s good to see you again,” Pinky Toe greeted them, smiling politely.
Razzy awkwardly returned the smile. “Could I come in? I brought some tea.”
“Of course,” Pinky Toe replied, pulling the door too. Razzy made themself comfortable at their low table, around which Pinky Toe had arranged a series of sitting pillows, and onto which they placed the tea.
“I have a set of teacups from home. You’re welcome to use them,” Pinky Toe said, predicting their next request.
Razzy marveled at the delicate set of fine porcelain they produced, and poured an equal measure of tea into each cup.
Pinky Toe drank the chilled tea slowly. “It’s wonderful.”
Razzy smiled sincerely. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re well,” continued Pinky Toe. “I was worried about you after the Sand Rally.”
“Don’t worry. Neither DNF injured me.”
“It’s not that… I just hoped you weren’t taking it too poorly.”
“It’s alright. Perhaps I can’t race as well without knowing it’s the championship at stake… But as long as I’m the one who faces the consequences of my failure, I won’t have any regrets. Though I came here to talk about you.”
“Yeah?” Pinky Toe hummed, lowering their teacup.
“Watching you medal in the Rally, it made me remember a rough-terrain race where you shared the podium with my team.”
“You mean the 2019 Dirt Race?”
Razzy nodded. “Mhm. Rozzy always spoke so highly of you after that, you know. That even while being shy on the surface, you were so strong on difficult terrain, and you never let Swifty, a seemingly unimpeachable opponent, slow you down. In fact, you sought that confrontation out. You had a special, secret fire inside you.”
Pinky Toe laughed, blushing. “You’re flattering me, really…”
“And then you did what I thought would never be done again—you fought for an entirely new overall podium, just like we did in 2019. I underestimated you, and for that, I owe you an apology.”
Pinky Toe blushed even harder. “Is it really such a big deal?”
“Of course!” Razzy exclaimed, rattling the table a little. “The League needs revolutionary teams. It needs teams that fight against every expectation. What you achieved between the Dirt Race and the 2022 Elimination Race is incredible, and the six of you fought for that all yourselves. If there’s any team that can renew the spirit of 2019, it’s you. I’m going to do my best out there tomorrow, of course… but I want to support your team, too.”
To Razzy’s surprise, Pinky Toe sniffled a little, casting a teary gaze downwards into the dark-green tea. As if they were trying to read non-existent tea leaves.
“When I think about it… we shared those two podiums with the Ducks, right?”
“I… yeah. We did.”
“Maybe it’s your rivalry that’s a good-luck charm for us.”
Razzy grinned. “Then I’ll ask Mallard and the team to cheer for both of us.”
(Art Credit: Momoikkai)
O’rangers
As dark clouds began to gather in the sky, a party of five found refuge in a local diner. Though it was set to close early that day, the owner ushered them in with a smile.
Wisps of steam rose from mugs of coffee as the O’rangers settled into a booth in the corner of the restaurant. They were stoically silent save for sporadic small sips. Vespa, the owner, flitted around them like an insect, placing plenty of snacks and goodies around the table.
“Anything else you O’s want? Everything’s on the house. It’s been such a long time!” they buzzed.
“Thank you for your generosity, but—” Mandarin began.
“Do you do donuts?” Clementin interrupted.
Vespa laughed. “I guess I should have seen that coming. We don’t have them on the menu, but I’ll see what I can do.” They winked, then disappeared back into the kitchen.
The team watched through the misty window pane as clouds continued to gather in the sky, enjoying the slow diner ambience without a word. The reverie was quickly broken by the reappearance of Vespa and the plume of smoke billowing from the kitchen.
“While you’re waiting, here are some sliders,” they said, placing a plate of sandwiches on the table. “If you see the Turts, tell them I said hi!”
Murmurs of thanks came from around the table. Vespa tilted their head. “You folks are a lot quieter than I remember. What’s up?”
Clementin looked at their teammates for a moment before answering. “Honestly? Staying that high energy all the time is exhausting. It’s nice to slow down now and then.”
Vespa nodded. “I get that.”
“We’ve always pushed to give 110%, y’know?” Kinnowin added. “But we’ve realized we’ve been trying too hard to be perfect.”
Tangerin nodded. “We’re not Speedy, after all.”
“Heh, yeah, that marb is pretty intense. I don’t think they’ve apologized for anything ever,” Vespa quipped.
“I don’t want to be like that.” Clementin said. “After all these years, I almost forgot the joy of just… competing. So tomorrow, I’ll be racing for the fun of it. It doesn’t matter if I win by ten seconds or if Razzy somehow passes me. I’m not going to worry about getting every little detail right.”
Clementin’s soliloquy was interrupted by the sound of Marbloid music. “Whoops, that’s my alarm! ‘Reincarnation Ringo.’ Heard the track from Royal! The Indies like it too. Be right back!” Vespa explained, before rushing back into the kitchen.
“So, you all good for tomorrow, Clem?” Orangin said quietly. Their words hung in the air like snowflakes.
“Yeah,” Clementin replied simply. They took another tiny sip of their coffee—one cream, one sugar—careful not to burn themself.
After a minute, Vespa returned carrying another plate. “Here you go, Clem!”
“This is baklava,” Clementin said flatly.
“Yeah, but I deep fried it, so it’s just as unhealthy as your beloved donuts!”
It wasn’t that funny, but Clementin snickered. Tangerin joined in. Soon, all six marbles around the table were laughing uproariously.
“You know what?” Clementin gasped between giggles. “That’s good enough.”
Snowballs
Going out for tonight. Phone’s off. Back late.
It was impolite to vanish the night before an event with no elaboration to their team of the where, why or when. Snowy knew that. But they couldn’t justify those things even to themself, let alone someone else.
The number 66 bus to Buzzkill approached. Their stop was otherwise deserted, so they boarded alone.
“You stop at the Hivedrive, right?” they asked, swiping their pass.
“Sure, but why go there?” replied the driver. “It’s technically open for viewing, but unless you’re like one of those old folk who watch construction all day—”
“Ticket, please,” Snowy asked, suddenly frustrated. Their obstinance earned an eye-roll, but they got their way.
Snowy folded it away and seated themself at the very back. Despite the encroaching darkness and foreboding skies, the winding route towards Buzzkill was undeniably scenic, and Snowy gazed out of the window towards the sunset until they could disembark outside the Hivedrive.
Already they heard the construction taking place. After falling into post-Hornets disuse, it needed repairs, though they were still able to visit the visitor section.
Snowy followed a long hallway, emerging out onto a concrete balcony overlooking the track. Tucked in their wallet was a Rollaroid photo, taken after Hivedrive qualifiers, of them and Snowflake. Snowy took it out and held it out in front of them, to the spot where it had been taken.
Memories began to flood back. They remembered everything. The path they took as they led Snowflake to the gate for their P1 start. The seat from which they watched it fall apart for their teammate. The dark, hidden spot where they reassured them that nothing would ever lead Snowy to resent them. Every moment played out in front of them as if it had taken place just yesterday.
Water was dripping onto the photo. Rain, Snowy thought. But only when they looked up and found that the clouds, though swollen and dark, had not yet yielded rain, did they recognize that they were crying.
(Art Credit: Momoikkai)
Snowy panicked. Swiftly stowing the precious photo away from their tears, they began to berate themself silently. How pathetic, vanishing to cry over someone who’s never coming back.Hiding yourself behind taking on all of these events, as if you could fill that hole in your heart with the weight of the world—
“Snowy? You’ll catch a cold if you stay out in the rain.”
A voice behind them, familiar from their college days. Startled, Snowy broke from their dreamlike state.
They turned and saw a white marble.
“I thought you might come here… Your team is looking for you. They’re worried sick.”
“I’m so sorry,” they wept, and the sky burst open with a great and sudden wall of water. “Snowflake… please forgive me.”
With their eyes clouded by tears, Snowy missed the blue and brown stripes among the white. It didn’t matter, and they shut their eyes as they rushed forward.
“It’s okay, Snowy,“ Glide said. “There’s nothing you need to be forgiven for.”
Rojo Rollers
Up since dawn training, the warm darkness of Rojo Dos’s room came as a relief. They threw themself on their bed, not bothering to switch the lights on or towel themselves off.
For a while they focused just on catching their breath. Representing their team in the final event was a great privilege, even more so when a podium placement was at stake, but Dos envied those for whom the demanding training routines and constant pressure were over.
An early night was tempting, but the growling complaints of their stomach reminded them they hadn’t eaten since midday. A busy academic career had gotten them into the habit of forgetting to refuel. They found their phone on the nightstand and turned it back on. Wary of distractions, they had left it off and locked in their room for the entire day.
The cracked screen’s background was as it had been for years; their family at home in Numerun. But any fond reminiscing was interrupted by incoming notifications, so many in number that the phone shook in their grip.
Their screen was wall-to-wall with messages, now. Heart pounding with anxiety—has something happened?—Dos began opening them blindly.
Cero (old coach)
Cero: Hi, Dos. Been a while. Cero: Best of luck out there. Sorry I couldn’t be the coach who brought you here. Cero: You really do deserve this opportunity.
RN3
RN3: I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved as a team this year. I’ll be watching you tomorrow and cheering you on. RN3: Best of luck.
ROJO DOS HONEYDOME CHEERING SQUAD
Rizzy: Alright, I think that’s everyone. Rizzy: Hi, Dos. I made this so we could all send our support in the same place. Everyone ready? Hop: Yep! Hop: Go go Rojo Dos! It’s about time that everyone learned the true power of Surculo. Do your best! Imar: The 2016 High Jump is still one of my fondest Marble League memories. You fought me until the end for that gold, and I know you can give everyone the same kind of hell out there. Rezzy: Ditto Imar. You’re easily the best athlete I shared the 2021 Funnels podium with. Mocha: …As I’m sure Rezzy meant to say, we’re behind you all the way. Nothing is impossible just because it’s difficult. You’ve got this. Minty Swirl: You’re going to shine out there just like you did in the Showdown. Snow would say the same. Rizzy: Thank you, everyone. Rizzy: Dos, you gave me the wisdom I needed to survive one of the hardest things I ever went through. You’re among the strongest, smartest, and most resilient athletes I know. But more than anything, you’re my best friend. Rizzy: Thank you for everything.
The tears clouding their eyes forced Dos to stop reading. All of this support and love and they hadn’t even reached the messages from their teammates and family. Despite the difficult position they were starting in, everyone had faith in them. Everyone thought—knew—that they were strong enough.
Thank you, everyone… I’ll do my best out there! Dos thought, their aches and anxieties suddenly far away.
Crazy Cat’s Eyes
Spend all day doing anything but practice. You’re gonna need a clear head to win it all tomorrow.
White Eye’s words echoed in Red Eye’s mind for what had to be the thousandth time today as they stared out the window covered in raindrops. They couldn’t squeeze in just one more lap, they couldn’t obsess over the probabilities, they had to relax.
They tried to do just that. They had caught up with the Turtle Sliders early in the day when the sun was still out, they had gone down the sand hills before the rain had started, and they had even braved the elements with Speedy and Momo to sample local desserts thanks to the latter’s pleading; but peace of mind still eluded them.
A flash of light from behind the far-off silhouettes of the mountains drew their attention to it. In the reflection of the glass was another point of interest they hadn’t noticed prior: Yellow Eye.
“Hey,” they greeted. “Tomorrow’s the day.”
Unable to find a satisfactory reply, Red Eye turned their gaze back to the window, watching raindrops slowly slide down the glass in silence.
“You’re gonna do great out there. This is a chance of a lifetime… we’re finally gonna do it. We’re finally gonna stand on that podium,” Yellow Eye said, emotion clear in their voice. “We’re only one event away from our dreams becoming reality.”
“I’m not supposed to think about the race,” Red Eye replied.
“Coach didn’t say to not think about winning, right?” A sheepish laugh followed.
Red Eye sighed, looking away from the rain and towards their teammate. “Do you really think we’ll do it? I’d need to win, along with some of the teams not doing that well, it all seems—”
“More than possible,” Yellow Eye interrupted. “You have pole position from your victory in the last event. You’re the best to ever touch the track. It’s obvious that a marble who’s stood on the racer’s podium every single season they’ve competed in would—”
“It should have been you,” Red Eye interrupted, struggling to hold back tears. “It should be you racing tomorrow, it should be you to make us champions, it should be you to make Felynia proud!”
A far away rumble of thunder from over the mountains interrupted the conversation’s lull. Red Eye silently prayed it was just loud enough to conceal the quiet sobs that fell from them.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Yellow Eye said, rolling over to their teammate. “You’re absolutely the one who needs to do this. I’d just ruin everything at the last moment like I always do. We need you to be the one who finally leads us all up to the summit.”
“I don’t want to be the one to do that if it means taking your place… I just can’t…”
The strengthening pitter-patter of the rain against the window served as the only reprieve from suffocating silence; yet it was barely audible to Red Eye, their mind the furthest thing from clear.
Pinkies
Freezing cold and soaked-through in the center of Buzznya, Pinky Panther was beginning to regret not checking the weather forecast.
They’d finished their day’s training to the tune of a gray and darkening sky—but not the obvious portent of a growing rainstorm. Thus they’d foregone anything waterproof on their day’s second trip, to a fanmeet held at a rather glitzy conference room in the business district.
Panther had curbed their expectations for it. Almost every fanmeet held before had been a subdued event. But what they’d met with was unexpected; a sea of baby-pink formed from marbles, a wall of excited cheering reaching fever-pitch as they parted the crowd and strode towards the stage. I never knew so many Rosakans lived in Buzznya, they’d thought.
But as they’d signed merch and made small talk, something strange emerged. Pace, Draklin, Jamarbla, Quixote… somewhere, somehow, things had changed. Pinkies fans weren’t just Rosakans, gritting their teeth and backing their home team. They were from everywhere, and there were so many of them.
Dizzied by that realization, they’d lost hours amongst the jubilation, hours where the weather outside wasn’t so catastrophic. Now they were waiting at a seemingly-frozen stop sign, watching it stubbornly refuse to turn red as raindrops pelted hard onto the pavement.
Removed from that atmosphere, they felt oddly deflated. In the moment it had felt good to be so loved, to realize how the championship had attracted an entirely new generation of fans. But the cold made them somber. Every fan who supported them not out of obligation, but out of admiration, came with high expectations. Expectations that, if they were to disappoint, might ruin someone’s trip halfway around the world.
A red light flashed in the periphery. Panther crossed, lost amidst the crowd. In Buzznya, street crossings weren’t white-and-black, they were yellow-and-black.
All you have to do to secure third is stay two places ahead of the Bees. Don’t get distracted fighting Red Eye.
They remembered Promise’s advice. Not much different from the year before.
All you have to do to win is outlast Starry and Shimmer. Be clever, not fast.
A successful championship bid. The best circuit racer on the team. They were the obvious closer. What could explain the strange sickness that came with knowing exactly who they’d have to fight to stand on a second overall podium?
Perhaps it was akin to the weather unfolding around them. Pathetic fallacy, as Rosa had called it, explaining the mood of an ambitious kapinki dance. They had stepped out into a grim and unremarkable day that had turned into the eye of a great storm—somehow slowly enough that they could neither escape nor object. Now they had to learn to survive it.
Their tram stop was in sight; a much-needed relief. Panther exhaled, watching their breath turn to mist in front of them.
I can do it. After all, I’ve got no choice.
Bumblebees
On stormy days, Bumble would watch the water drip down the window, tracing the path the raindrops made as they raced downwards. Tonight was no different. The raindrop they were following now was particularly reluctant to obey gravity, meandering towards the windowsill at a sluggish pace. Oh, now it was stuck.
“Your tea has to be cold by now.”
A black uniform interspersed with yellow accents, the inverse of their own, hovered in Bumble’s periphery. “I’ll pour myself a new cup later,” they replied absentmindedly, still staring at the window.
“What’s wrong?”
Another raindrop collided with the stuck raindrop, the added weight of water yanking them both down in an accelerated dive. Bumble snapped out of their stupor. “Huh?”
“They’re worried. You’re spacing out.” It had been Stinger standing there, holding their own mug of tea.
Bumble shrugged. “It doesn’t usually rain this hard. It’s about time I started ruminating, too.”
Stinger set their mug down. Unlike Bumble’s, steam still curled from the liquid. “You’re our best racer, and you know this track better than anyone else,” they said matter-of-factly. “If anyone can clinch us the win, it’s you.”
A pause, then Bumble cracked a smile at the encouragement. “No wonder you were captain.”
It was Stinger’s turn to freeze. “What does that have to do with the race?”
“Nothing. I appreciate you thinking I can clinch the win, though.”
“You’re still worried.”
Bumble took a sip of their cold tea, trying to suppress the waver in their voice. “Yeah. This storm’s not a good omen, right? Bees can’t fly in the rain.” As if on cue, there was a low rumble of thunder. “It’s okay if it’s misty—I’m talking about the weather—but a torrent like this? It glues their wings to their bodies and knocks them to the ground.” At the window, another water droplet buckled under its own weight, plummeting down into the darkness. “This is the closest we’ve ever gotten. I can’t afford to slip up.”
“You told us we’d make this a Marble League worth remembering,” Stinger rebutted, watching the window with them. “We did; you led us here. And even if the Speeders get a third trophy, this has been a League to remember. A patchwork team of former rivals, succeeding on home turf? Who would’ve thought?”
“Well…”
“We’re stronger than we ever were as separate teams,” they continued. “I’m glad I could be a part of this. I’m glad for this second chance—I mean, I even got that Triathlon medal that I missed last time.” Stinger laughed a little. “Thank you for that, captain. I’m proud to call myself a Bumblebee.”
Bumble stared back in gratitude and shock. “Of course I’m going to give it my all, but if it’s not enough…“
“I’ve got your back,” Stinger affirmed easily. “We all do.”
The rain hadn’t stopped, but it no longer invaded the corners of Bumble’s mind as it did before. “Thank you, Stinger. I’ll be sure to make it a race to remember.”
Savage Speeders
Speedy opened their eyes.
They had been trying to sleep for hours. They were dead tired from strategizing and practicing earlier in the day, but sleep still evaded them. Looking out the window, they saw the rain that started in the evening kept pouring in incessant sheets. Lightning struck in the distance, making the window rattle.
Speedy was about to close their eyes again when they heard a pattern of rolling they could recognize anywhere. Then, a knock at the door.
“Come in, Rapidly,” Speedy said.
The door creaked open, then clicked shut. Speedy didn’t turn around, but sat up in bed and wrapped the blanket around themself like a shawl.
“Can’t sleep?” Rapidly asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Mhm. I don’t know why,” Speedy mumbled.
“Nervous about tomorrow?”
“No. I’ve been training all day.”
“Even though you’re third from the back?”
“I’ve made up positions before, it’s not a problem.” Speedy’s voice rose, even though they didn’t mean for it to.
Rapidly moved to sit on the edge of the bed. They were silent for a moment before saying, “Is it not a problem, or are you ignoring it so it can’t be a problem?”
“Whatever,” Speedy scoffed. They had half a mind to kick Rapidly out to try and sleep again, and another to ask them to stay and talk the whole night.
Silence settled over the room again, save for the rain. Suddenly, a thought that’d been bubbling since the end of M1 boiled to the surface of Speedy’s mind.
“I’m sorry,” they said.
“…It’s okay. I get it, you’re grumpy from the lack of sleep,” Rapidly said, surprised.
“Not just that. I’m sorry for how I treated you this summer. During M1.” They felt Rapidly’s gaze on them. Speedy continued, “I was upset about the roster changes and I didn’t know how to express it. I didn’t want to worry you or Swifty. I thought if I just focused on myself it wouldn’t affect anything. But that was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Rapidly said nothing, and for a moment Speedy wondered if they’d upset them. Then Rapidly spoke up, voice thick. “Thank you, Speedy. I really appreciate it.” They tapped Speedy’s side and for the first time that night, Speedy looked their sibling in the face.
“You don’t have to go through anything alone,” Rapidly said warmly. “Even tomorrow. If there’s a problem, you tell me, okay?”
Speedy nodded, even though they knew in the back of their mind they wouldn’t.
Rapidly seemed to sense their insincerity anyway, and their expression shifted minutely. “We’re all here for you, no matter what happens,” they affirmed.
In the quiet that followed, the fatigue from the day hit Speedy like a truck. Their eyelids were heavy and it took great effort to stay upright. As they laid back down on the bed, they felt Rapidly roll off it. The door opened and closed, and Speedy closed their eyes in turn.
When they woke up seven hours later, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Dawn had arrived again, its light diffused in the heavy cloud cover.
Event 8 of Marble League 2023: Balancing. (Design Credit: Flamigiri)
After a Balancing revenge victory seven years in the making, the Rojo Rollers expected Mellow Yellow to bring it up in the form of showing off the gold medals and constant reminders of revenge from 2016’s very first event; the furthest thing from actuality, which took the form of a party meant to celebrate both that day in 2016 and today.
“How’s the view from the bottom looking?” Yellow teased while giving a bump to Rojo Uno.
Their fellow captain gave a nudge back. “Oh, shush. The view from the second step of the podium actually looks great, thank you very much,” they replied. “All jokes aside, I’ve been waiting for this moment. The event results specifically, though this party isn’t too bad.”
“Huh? You’ve been waiting for us to beat you?” Yellah cut in, handing a glass full of fizzy Non-Descript Soda to their captain. “That makes no sense.”
“I mean that I’ve been waiting for us to share the podium again,” Uno explained as they sipped their drink. “So what if we didn’t win? Nothing beats the feeling of getting to stand up there with you guys after so many years!”
Yellup rolled up to where the conversation was taking place. “The last time we were on the podium together… wasn’t that the first-ever event of the Marble League?”
Rojo Dos, Yellup, and Momo on the podium for Event 1 of Marble League 2016: Balancing. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
“Correct,” Rojo Dos confirmed. “All we’re missing is Team Momo if we truly wanted to make this a 2016 reunion party, but—”
As if on cue, the door opened. On the other side stood Momo with their teammates by their side, looking confused. The look soon turned to one of surprise. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Speak of the devil!” Rojo Cuatro sang out as they rolled up to Momo, getting behind them and pushing them into the room. “Welcome to the reunion!”
“W-what?”
Yellow laughed as they handed Momo a glass of soda. “2016 Balancing podium revenge slash reunion party. Just enjoy it, alright? You guys need something to feel good about. Maybe that’ll help you get your mojo back going into the back half.”
With a look at their teammates who weren’t immediately drawn to the table of food, Momo laughed a bit. “You’re lucky we don’t have anything else to do today. Thanks for letting me crash your party,” they sheepishly said, taking a sip of their soda afterward. “Here’s to hoping nothing bad happens during this one. Some of us have already had our fair share of strange parties this season.” They looked to Tres who sent an understanding smile back.
Rojo Uno rolled up to the gathering of captains. “And here’s to eight more years of friendship and many more podiums between us!” They raised their glass of soda.
The other two captains raised their glasses in unison, the clinking almost completely drowned out by laughter and the beginnings of stories from the last several years they’d been dying to share.
“On the count of three, alright? Three… two… one, and smile!”
Mellow Yellow, Rojo Rollers, and Raspberry Racers on the podium for Balancing. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
The Rollaroid cast its flash across the rooftop terrace of the athletes’ village, capturing five athletes with their medals—four bronze, one gold—held aloft. Berry watched the photo print and double-checked it once it developed. Thankfully, nobody had blinked.
“Looks good,” they said. “I’ll have it on socials by midnight. Uh, but be in bed by then, alright?”
Their half-serious command earned its requisite share of groans, but everyone returned to their rooms for the night, leaving Berry alone.
The Raspberry Racers pose with their medals in the developed Rollaroid. (Art Credit: Piney)
Readjusting to the sudden silence, they turned their gaze over the glass railings to the Buzznya skyline. New buildings like the Superhive complex boasted the best views in such an old city. It was a privilege even to see the honeycomb-style residential blocks from such a height.
“You’ll freeze if you stay out here too long.”
Berry didn’t need to look back to know it was Rozzy speaking. “I’ll live. Anyway, didn’t I tell you to go to bed?”
“Forgot my phone.” Rather than leaving again, they sat next to Berry. “Something on your mind?”
“Sort of,” they mumbled. “Feels like everything’s going too well.”
Rozzy snorted. “Hah! We’re only halfway through. Talk to me again when we’re done with the season.”
“I know, no getting ahead of ourselves,” Berry laughed. “Personally I mean.”
“Yeah?”
Two Racers break ahead of their team as they approach the end of the balancing beam. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
“I mean… I quit my old job for this on a whim. Never been a coach or an athlete before. I still don’t know how I’ve got this far… And, I mean, you really wouldn’t prefer a tough ex-athlete like Quickly or Rango instead of someone like me?”
“No way. I like your style of coaching. Plus, a team like ours needs a coach with a head for numbers. Imagine if you let me calculate performance averages.”
Berry couldn’t help but smile into the darkness. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“Look, you were on that podium with all of us in 2019. It’s corny, but you’re part of our balance.”
“Corny? I’m not sure I- oh. It’s a pun. Good one.”
“I’m a natural comedian,” Rozzy laughed, their tone slightly sardonic. “Anyway. Don’t get too in your head about whether you’re good enough. Whatever happens, whatever doubts you have… You just have to keep moving. That’s the only way you’ll get where you need to go.”
What good is a captain who can’t lead their team properly?
The sight of ink-stained page after ink-stained page was beginning to vex Fearo. When the team had reformed for the 2022 Showdown, Cell encouraged them to start journaling. Their thoughts, feelings, training plans—were all recorded on the pages before them. When they were confident, riding the high of a dominant Showdown victory and a good M1 season, the writing was neat and prim. Now, after a sub-200 Balancing run, they were practically vomiting their troubles down, and the writing on the pages had become sloppy and inconsistent.
How have we lost so much ground already?
Do we need more stamina? Is there too much pressure?
I don’t want to disappoint our fans. And I don’t want to prove those who doubted us right. But I can’t do what I need, and it hurts.
They encircled the four lines in a loose ring and captioned it “NEGATIVE THOUGHTS: DON’T DWELL ON IT!” Then, finding the space beneath, they began to draw.
The ascending ladder of a foxglove. The stamen of a lily in bloom. The cloudlike spread of baby’s breath. As Fearo recalled them, they blossomed in black and white on the page, and they slowly began to feel grounded once more.
Unconsciously, they scribbled three words underneath: not the end.
Team Plasma rests in the sand as the pressure of the Marble League hits them. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Two marbles sit in Em’s kitchen. Saffy is halfway through the sandwich their parent packed for them. Em is halfway through a cup of instant noodles.
“Not the end!? You’re leaving the country!” Saffy cries.
Em nods. “I’ll still be able to watch G-Force the night before.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be gone until the new year! Even the Showdown will be over by then!”
“That just means I need to get them all before I leave.”
A stack of envelopes and parcels sits between them; Em had collected the mail earlier that day, as was their responsibility every two weeks.
“I wish I had your optimism, Em.”
“Well, I just got a bunch of responses in the mail, so I’m still moving at a good pace!”
A signed letter on orange stationery with a pre-printed message, a signed index card with “Keep your eyes on the prize!” scribbled in rushed handwriting, and a signed discount coupon for a Thunderbolts shirt sit atop the pile.
“Can’t you ask to stay home this time?”
“I tried, but one of my parents has to go overseas for work. The other is, uh, super busy.”
A signed card attached to a free Team Galactic beanie, a signed box of confections, a signed member card for the “Wolfpack” fan club, and a signed note reading “PLASMAAAAAA!!!!” with a slice of plastic-wrapped pie sits beside the pile, as not to get crushed.
“They’re never around, are they?”
Em pauses for a moment before speaking again. “Yeah.”
Event 7 of Marble League 2023: Funnel Endurance. (Design credit: Flamigiri)
To their fans, the sight of the Shining Swarm and Pinkies on the three steps together was a welcome throwback. But they were missing someone. In their post-podium walkabout chat, Sterling, Rosa, and Sheet had been joined by Pulsar, who was content with having advanced out of the heats.
In the midst of a lively conversation about their plans for Halloween night, they were halted by Rezzy’s approach. They looked utterly frazzled, as if they’d been wandering aimlessly for a while.
“I need to speak to Pulsar right now,” they said, offering no explanation.
The four of them looked between each other.
“Well, I’ve got to do that interview I was talking about,” Sterling said.
“Team celebrations won’t wait for me,” Rosa added.
“See you another time, then?” Sheet replied.
Everyone nodded, waving as they dissipated in different directions.
Pulsar wasn’t expecting the conversation to begin with Rezzy dragging them into an unlit storage room, but they were willing to see where it went.
“Pulsar,” Rezzy’s voice was haggard and tired. “I think we’re going to become the next Galacfifth.”
“Ah, really?”
“We’ve gotten fourth three times in a row, and we’re in fourth overall. Imagine if we’re fourth for a fourth time!”
“Hmmmmm,” Pulsar mused. “In some places, the number four is associated with death or bad luck.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better!”
Pulsar frowned. “Well, what do you want me to say?”
“I… if it does happen, what do we do?”
“Try not to take it badly. Fans… they don’t mean it maliciously. They just have fun joking amongst themselves. And there are worse things to be known for than consistency.”
“And if we’d prefer to be known for medalling?”
Pulsar shrugged. “Then medal.”
“Hmph,” Rezzy snorted. “Easier said than done.”
Sterling and Pinky Rosa go head to head for the gold medal. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Like clockwork, after every Marble League event the Shining Swarm would dial into the live post-event show hosted by Marbeat Mania, their No. 1 live fan podcast for both music and sport.
Sterling had come to like Luster, the show’s host, over the past weeks. They were easy to talk to, and it was easy to see why their podcast was so popular. Now they finally had good news for them.
STERLING: Check check. Can you hear me?
LUSTER: Loud and clear. Let’s get straight on the air.
STERLING: Right.
LUSTER: One, two, three… Here on Marbeat Mania we’re proud to present Sterling, who took on the funnel endurance today! Now, tell the folks at home what you got.
STERLING: Well, you most often hear about sterling silver… But I’m proud to say that this Sterling didn’t settle for less than a gold.
LUSTER: Amazing! And it’s the second funnels gold you’ve earned in a row.
STERLING: That’s right. I don’t want to speak too soon, but I think we’re on track to be one of the strongest funnels teams out there.
LUSTER: I mean, the obvious question is: how on Marblearth are you producing these super-consistent results?
STERLING: Well… In 2022, I practiced fundamentals extensively, looked at event theory and worked on my mindset.
LUSTER: And this year?
STERLING: Following my Sprint heat, I realized it’s not just about how good you are, but who you’re playing against. It’s even truer for funnels. I studied past Funnels events extensively to learn how the other strong competitors behave. Mo’s aggression, Sheet’s stamina… I took it all into account. That insight helped me win.
LUSTER: That’s amazing.
STERLING: You’re too sweet.
LUSTER: Now, it’s still Halloween, so are the team having a spooky celebration tonight?
STERLING: Mhm. We’re going to be attending a costume party with some of our friends in the League.
LUSTER: Oooh, sounds exciting! I hope you have a wonderful time. We’ll be breaking for music now, and then we’ll be back with Sterling to rank each year’s funnel setups. Thanks for tuning into Marbeat Mania!
After the final round, the athletes rest in the catch basin. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Sheet had been looking forward to the League Halloween party even before the Glaciers qualified. Not only did they have the perfect costume this year, but they’d finally talked the rest of their team into going as a group, each dressed as a folklore being from their region of origin.
Their snow fairy costume had been warmly received, the snacks were flowing, and everyone seemed to be having fun. So it surprised them to hear the sound of muffled sobs from the bedroom of the house they’d rented out for the night.
Sheet knocked gently on the door, careful not to startle whoever was inside. “It’s Sheet. Can I come in?” they asked.
“Just go away. I don’t want you to rub your medal in my face.”
That’s Cyan Eye’s voice, Sheet realized.
“I wouldn’t do that. Should I tell your team you’re not doing great?”
“No! Please don’t do that.” Their voice was tinted with an edge of panic. “I can’t face them. Not with how today went.”
Sheet frowned. “It’s not an easy event. You tried your hardest.”
“That’s not what White Eye thinks. When I went back to the changing rooms, they wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”
They hadn’t heard the full story, but Sheet remembered Glide mentioning something about White Eye getting very frustrated in the coaches’ den.
“What’s the point of a reserve that can’t do individual events right? I’m useless.”
“You’re far from useless! There’s so much more to being a reserve.”
In the momentary silence Sheet left, Cyan Eye’s sobbing ceased.
“I get it if you don’t want to see your team. But if you’d like, we can go and take a walk and get some fresh air together, yeah?”
Cyan Eye sniffled. “What about your team?”
“I’m sure they’ll be able to have fun without me. It’s more important to me that you’re feeling alright.”
“I… yeah, okay. Just let me get my bearings.”
“Take all the time you need.” Sheet replied, smiling.
Tucked away in a neon-lit basement karaoke room, Pinky Rosa was giving it their all in a rendition of Stayin’ Above, the legendary song about maintaining distance during funnel endurance events., ecstatic to be celebrating a second successive silver.
When they settled down it was next to Pinky Panther, who’d been late to dinner thanks to their hosting of a detective game earlier in the night. Panther gave them a round of applause.
“Amazing work, Rosa! You were formidable out there,” Panther congratulated them. Rosa wasn’t sure whether it was about the funnels or the karaoke.
“Thank you! Another good performance and I might be eyeing that “Funnels God” nickname.”
Promise giving them Funnels events over Panther had surprised them initially. But they’d trusted their team staff. 2022’s funnels had been disappointing, but their training was definitely paying off now.
“About that…” Panther began, gazing into the distance as a quarrel broke out over what to sing next. “You deserve it.”
“What?” Rosa exclaimed. “Are you sure? You were awfully proud of it.”
“Yeah, but that’s not me anymore. I’m changing, shifting like the wind,” Panther mused. Clearly it was something they’d contemplated a lot. “Plus, I’ve been thinking of a new nickname anyway.”
Rosa had to bite back a laugh. It certainly matched the original in ego. “Yeah. It totally suits you,” they said.
“Great! Now all I need to do is solve the biggest mystery—of how we’re gonna get our second League championship.”
Sterling, Pinky Rosa and Sheet on the podium for the Funnel Race. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Limelime rushes out of the Superhive Stadium, laughing maniacally. A concerned Heart follows them.
“Oh, this is gold!” Limelime exclaims, a wide grin on their face. “Rezzy failing to podium in the funnels?”
“Uh, so what?” Heart asks.
“Well, they’re basically unmatched in the ol’ F.E.,” Limelime explains. “Except for maybe Pinky Panther. And you. You’re great at it, right?”
“I got fourth in the Showdown last year,” Heart says flatly. “Like Rezzy just did.”
“Oooops,” Limelime replies sheepishly.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Well, it’s the Racers. And I, uh, have a complicated relationship with Funnel Endurance specifically.”
“You placed last in it once, correct?”
Something flashes in Limelime’s eyes, then quickly fades. “Yeah, and Coach Keylime put me in M1 because I was so bad at it. I was happy to be there, but it still stung. A lot.”
“Ah. My condolences.”
“But hey, I don’t let it get to me! It’s water under the bridge now,” Limelime continues, their cheerful demeanor restored. “And it’s not like Goolime does any better,” they add under their breath.
“Right. But we should probably head back to our teams. They’ll be wondering where you dashed off to.”
Limelime laughs. “Ah, you’re probably right. Let’s go find ’em!”
A sound comes from a nearby bush, and the two marbles turn to see a startled young fan who had been hiding and didn’t expect to hear their name.
“Oh, hi there!” Limelime chirps cheerfully. “Who are you? Want an autograph?”
Credits
Writers: Millim, Flamigiri
Copyeditors/Editors: Edu G. J., Evolution, GhostDM
Event 6 of Marble League 2023: Tug-of-War. (Design Credit: Flamigiri)
During their MFC days, the Pinkies had begun a victory tradition. For each medal earned, they would get an at-table barbecue and follow it with a round of karaoke. It had continued until the 2022 League, where blowing their voices out after every piece of hardware earned quickly became incompatible with the sheer and sudden uptick in their podium placements. Especially when every marble sports outlet on Marblearth wanted an interview with them.
Now, they could revive their tradition. They’d filled up on meat and noodles earlier that night, full of energy again after the exhausting Tug-of-War. But they quickly ran into a roadblock; the fight to determine who’d sing first.
“No fair! I mean, no offense, but you weren’t even in the event!” Pinky Rosa exclaimed. Pinkydink had an uncanny ability to predict the long straw, and this time was no exception.
“Yeah, but I made your lunchboxes and got the audience cheering for you,” replied Pinkydink, smiling mischievously.
“Actually, I think I was the one who got the long straw.” Pinky Panther interjected, holding up a long green straw that swirled in a hypnotic pattern at the top.
Pinky Winky glared at them. “That straw’s from your drink.”
Panther snorted. “Maybe, but you guys love my BGM! The song that gets you so hyped up you want to commit a crime!”
Rosa rolled their eyes teasingly. “That’s not a good thing.”
Though their squabbling was in jest, the team was still at an impasse. From the corner, Pinky Promise piped up.
“Let’s resolve this,” they said, tranquil and confident. “As this victory was as a team, your captain should have the privilege of leading you in.”
The team was astonished at their declaration. Pinky Toe had never sung first, owing to their shyness. They hadn’t even taken a straw. Now Promise was putting them on the spot.
“I, uh…I guess I could. But I have no idea what I’d sing, so…”
Sensing their captain’s anxiety, Panther spoke up again. “Maybe something we could sing together?”
Everyone in the booth nodded in unison, agreeing to support their leader.
“But what are we actually singing?” Winky asked.
“Good question!” Pinkydink said. “Now we’re in Buzznya, how about we sing a regional classic?”
Toe blinked. “Huh?”
Pinkydink smirked. “Only the legendary Don’t Stop Bee-lieving.”
Eyes lit up around the room. Even as far away as Rosaka, they’d heard of the legendary ballad of two bees finding each other in the darkness of the Buzznyan night.
“Alright,” Toe agreed. “As your captain, I’ll do it.”
Three, two, one… “Just a small town bee,” they all sang, “livin’ in a lonely tree!”
“Ewwwwwww. It looks super gross. Do we have to?” Yellow Eye asked, squinting at the off-colour bottle of liquid placed on the team’s table.
“You have to keep promises,” Blue Eye retorted.
Green Eye grimaced. “I mean… is it really such a big deal…?”
Red Eye had bought the bottle of Non-Descript Yellow Soda as a joke in 2022 after they’d gotten last in Block Pushing. We’ll share this bottle when we finally medal in a strength event, they’d said, confident that such a situation would remain hypothetical for the rest of their careers. Everyone had laughed, agreed, and mostly forgotten about it.
The Crazy Cat’s Eyes rest in the sand as the final Raspberry Racer falls from the balancing beam, securing them a victory in the third-place match. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Red Eye wanted to eat those words now. But with Blue Eye pouring the soda into everyone but Cyan’s glass, their choices were beginning to seem limited.
“Let’s get this over with,” Red Eye grunted. They shut their eyes and steeled themselves. Then, alongside the others, they knocked back the entire glass in a single gulp, careful not to let it linger.
They tasted the musty, soured flavour nonetheless, almost retching as it hit them. Similar sounds of revulsion were heard from around the table.
“So how’s it taste?” Cyan asked.
Red spluttered and groaned. “Uh… Tastes like victory.”
Following a second gold medal placing them at the top of the standings, the Bumblebees had decided that they should spend the two-day break enjoying some peace and quiet away from the fans. The day after Tug-of-War, the five of them had bid farewell to Queen and packed their bags for a Hubelino-reunion camping expedition in the woods alongside the Maniacs and Blackjacks.
Swax, Bumble, Minty Fresh, and Heart had split off from the group to go deeper into the forest, further from the city lights, to set up camp. Before the fire was even lit, Fresh had begun telling ghost stories.
“Yeesh, you’ve officially spooked me now,” Swax whined, shivering. Fresh’s tale about a spirit that lurked in cold places and sucked the breath from its victims had bordered on terrifying, and it wasn’t helping that Bumble was still struggling to get the flames going. “Where’d you get such a hardcore story from, anyway?”
Fresh smiled, happy to have successfully scared Swax. “Misty told me it.”
“Explains why it was set on a secret mountain,” Swax grumbled.
“I didn’t know you’d been speaking to Misty,” Heart hummed. The Hazers’ notorious secretiveness was not easy to break.
“Sure I have! We’ve started up an MVM club. Another silver medal and you might get in, Bumble.” Fresh laughed.
The fire finally roared to life, illuminating everything with a warm nostalgic glow. “Well, I’ll do my best,” Bumble said. “MVM would be nice. But… Team podiums make a more important point. They prove everyone who thinks a team of ex-rivals can’t be successful or work together wrong.”
The Bumblebees, Pinkies, and Crazy Cat’s Eyes on the podium for Tug-of-War. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Lit up by the crackling flames, Bumble watched as Fresh and Heart turned to each other, exchanging between them a knowing look.
“Hey, what’s with the conspiring over there?” Bumble protested, half-jesting. Fresh and Heart both jumped in their seats.
“What conspiring?” Heart said, bluffing coolly as usual.
“I mean… we could probably tell them, right? As long as they keep it secret.”
“Please no more ghost stories,” Swax pleaded.
Fresh chuckled. “Nah, this one’s a story from the beginning of the Hubelino Tournament.”
Swax and Bumble settled down together on a log by the fire to listen as Fresh started to set the scene.
“So… there’s something about the tournament you don’t know the whole truth of.”
“What? Really?” Though their team hadn’t been in the first edition, Bumble had been a fan since the beginning. It was hard to imagine there was anything they didn’t know by now.
“Yeah. Right before the start, two athletes each from the Bluefastics and Valiant Violets had to pull out. Dory, Mako, Salvia and Vivid. Without eight full teams, we almost couldn’t put it on,” Heart replied.
“It was looking disastrous. But they recruited four athletes who’d lost their team when their tournament ended in 2015. Two of them went to each team under the same pseudonyms, and that’s how Hubelino was saved.” Fresh added.
The Bluefastics and Valiant Violets face off in the Hubelino Tournament’s Pursuit Slalom. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
“So, wait. The ones we know aren’t the same as the ones in 2016?” Bumble asked, shocked. But at the same time, it made sense- those four never joined in with the stories told in 2018 of 2016.
“That’s right.”
“Wow…”
“It’s an interesting story,” Swax interjected, “but the Bluefastics and Violets weren’t that great, right?”
“Sure, they didn’t do amazingly. It was tough for them.” Fresh added. “But that original team, now ex-rivals, reformed more robust than ever. They even became champions.”
“Wait, they’re still out there? Could I meet them?” Bumble asked.
Heart and Fresh shared the conspiratorial look again.
“Here’s the thing… You already have,” Heart said.
Bumble’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what?”
Em collapses onto the grass dramatically. “I can’t do it,” they say, panting. “My energy… is gone.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Em,” Ruu chides. “Maybe if you didn’t miss gym class for two years you wouldn’t be so weak.”
Saffy gives Ruu a cross look. “Not cool.”
Em sits up, still exhausted and distraught. “It’s a twenty-minute walk to the stadium, and the popup Showdown signing ends in fifteen.”
“What, you made us run half the way for nothing, then?” Ruu says, a hint of annoyance in their voice.
Saffy ignores Ruu, instead looking into Em’s eyes and shaking them. “Hey. Would the Stars quit just because things seem difficult? Would the Wolfpack? The Ducks? Momo?”
“Well…”
“No, they wouldn’t!” Saffy exclaims. “The Em I know doesn’t give up, no matter what. You’re going to get up, run over there, and get all the signatures you can!”
Em leaps up, energized by the pep talk. “You’re right!” They let out a whoop as they dart off down the street once again, leaving their two friends behind.
“How’d you do that?” Ruu asked.
“I know how to push their buttons. Sometimes they just need a bit of encouragement.” Saffy lets out a wistful sigh. “I hope they make it. I really want them to be happy.”
Later that day, a grinning green marble makes their way home with a plethora of signatures; one blasting off, one on fire, one leafy green, and one in a shell.
Event 5 of Marble League 2023: 5 Meter Sprint. (Design Credit: Flamigiri)
On Snowy’s bedroom wall hung two individual golds.
The first they’d earned during S1’s Short Circuit GP. There they’d learned that to stand alone on the top step of the podium was an incomparable experience.
The second was from the 2022 Showdown’s Sand Rally, the final event, before which the Snowballs had been sixteenth and staring down relegation. Snowy had done the maths on the standings. At minimum, they needed to win a bronze. Realistically, they had to secure a gold medal.
The steep sandy slope loomed, asking of them one question- you know what you have to do to fix this, but are you strong enough to do it?
Snowy had answered in the affirmative. Last-second, they secured the requisite gold. But their victory gave them no joy; only relief. The medal hung above their bed only to remind them that their chance to qualify at all was hard-fought and barely won.
When they returned home next, a Marble League gold would join them. Nothing between their progression out of the semi-final to crossing the line in first to approaching the top step of the podium had felt real, but their medal was a tangible confirmation of reality. The satisfaction and pleasure of victory ran so deep inside of them that they could almost submerge themselves in it.
Snowy, Bumble, and Rapidly on the podium for 5 Meter Sprint. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
And though it was their solo victory, they returned from their silent contemplation in the locker room to find themselves surrounded not just by the Snowballs but by the Gliding Glaciers, all cheering in unison.
“Go, captain!” Snowstorm shouted, echoed by the rest of the Snowballs. “You were amazing out there. I might just cry.”
“I figured we should go and celebrate your performance somewhere. How about a joint picnic in the center of Buzznya?” Glide announced. Everyone resumed cheering.
“That sounds amazing,” Snowy said. They’d have time to sit in the dark and look at their medal later. Right now they wanted to share their happiness. “…Do we have food, though?”
“We’re gonna order some!” Snowblast replied. “And we made sure to finish fighting about what to order before you got out of the changing room!”
Snowy couldn’t bite back a laugh. “That means a lot.”
The decision made, everyone started to head out. But Snowy still found themselves trailing behind, having had their days’ fill of going fast. When Iceberg stopped and pulled them aside they assumed it was to complain about their slowness.
“You can’t tell anyone I said this, alright?” they said, not quite meeting their gaze. “But of anyone out there… I’m glad to have lost to you.”
Snowy would have been happy to hear that from anyone. Knowing Iceberg’s competitive spirit, it was high praise indeed.
“…Thanks. And you better get used to losing to us.”
“Bring it on.”
Coming into the Sprint, memories of Ruzzy’s last-second overtake in the Hurdles were fresh in Rapidly’s mind. This time they’d barely managed to avoid a repeat of it, fending off another last-second lunge from Razzy to stand on the podium again.
It was an exhilarating feeling to be back on form, and receiving a rare shoutout from Greg on their individual career success only made it sweeter. But once the congratulations from their team had calmed down, Rapidly sought out not the rest of the podium but Yellow. They found the tenth-place marble quietly grabbing a can of herbal tea from a vending machine inside the stadium. They also found Razzy, already by their side.
“Aw, are we doing a heats reunion here?” Yellow asked, drink clattering into the tray behind them. “Where’s Sterling?” Though their tone was upbeat, the aura of disappointment was unmistakable.
The four racers of the fourth heat rest after a hard-fought sprint. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
“It’s a shame we couldn’t share the final again.” Rapidly began. Every sprint event had Yellow’s mastery hanging over it, and it had shocked Rapidly to watch them fail to make it out of the first heat.
“C’mon, are both of you gonna give me the sappy treatment?” Yellow laughed. Rapidly glanced over to Razzy; clearly, they’d said something similar. “Sure, I didn’t win… or make it past the heats… and my team’s having kind of a rough time. But that’s life, right? You two made it and I didn’t.”
“You don’t seem very happy with things,” Razzy replied. And though they wouldn’t put it as bluntly as Razzy, Rapidly had to agree.
“I’m fine. I’ll get my groove back later.”
“You’re still one of the greatest League athletes out there,” they concluded, prepared to leave them alone. To their surprise, Yellow smiled a little.
“Thanks. Means a lot coming from you.” They turned away, gazing wistfully down the yawning length of the stadium’s maze of internal corridors. “Let’s hang out again when I’ve got something to be cheerful about, yeah?”
“Of course,” Razzy replied. “You too, Rapidly?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for Marblearth.”
It wasn’t gold, but it certainly felt like it.
It was all a blur if Bumble was being honest. Finales were always emotional, and this one was no different. For now, they stood atop the podium with dizzying elation. A silver. Bumble’s silver. Snowy, Rapidly…Bumble. Snowy had blitzed past them with their signature terrifying speed, of course, but it didn’t change that they were standing next to them now.
Snowy blitzes ahead of their competition in the final. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
This day felt familiar to them in more ways than one. Just under four months before, Bumble had used the same strategy to try to wrestle the Casino Square GP gold in their favor. Nearly five years earlier, Bumble descended the Big Tower at the conclusion of the Hubelino Tournament and won gold, besting the Ruby Rollers’ Rollo to secure the championship. And over a decade ago, Bumble had found the highest glory they could have ever dreamed of.
“Our city didn’t have an official sports team, and I wanted to change that,” Bumble had explained in an interview. “I knew Bea, Swax, Honey, and Bomble from playing bugby in club sports.”
Bumble had declined to mention that they had trouble making friends growing up on the outskirts of Buzzpig, working on their family farm. They joined the club after meeting Honey, who was browsing the honey sticks sold by Bumble’s family at a farmer’s market.
“My bugby buddies are going to love these!” Honey exclaimed during their purchase. “These must make a great gift for your friends, too.”
Wanting buddies of their own, Bumble attended their first bugby practice the following week. They’d remember that day forever.
Bumble blushed as they rolled into the locker room to total darkness. Their parents had hinted they would be in attendance for today’s event, and Swax had played it a little too cool when asked about their post-event plans. So when the lights flickered on, Bumble was far from surprised, but nonetheless grateful, to find a fresh batch of honey sticks in their locker.
“SURPRISE!” the team yelled anyway. All team personnel was present, including Bea and Bomble from the front office, and Bumble’s parents, who rolled in bringing a large crate of honey sticks for the whole team to enjoy.
“I…” Bumble started tearing up. “Thanks, everyone. This really has been a Marble League to remember, and getting to earn a silver on our team anniversary is…it’s special.”
“Getting to be your teammate is special,” gushed Honey.
“And getting to be your friend,” added Bomble, “is the most special!”
Bumble smiled. Raising their honey stick in the air, they motioned for everyone else in the room to do the same. “On one…two…three…”
“UP THE BEES!” everyone exclaimed.
Momo had no words that even came close to expressing their disappointment.
In a completely unexpected move, it would not be Momomo or Mimo to blaze their way to gold; it would be them. If the fans didn’t know why, Momo knew less about it.
Theories ranging from plain bad management to Momomomomo buckling under the pressure to quell a sudden “Momo Fever” that had sprung up across fansites and media after the captain’s Marbula One championship were already being thrown around by fans to explain the odd choice; the fans’ guesses were as good as their own.
Whatever the cause, it had its effect. And its effect was a dead-last outing when they needed points badly, sinking Team Momo further in the standings after an already rough first quarter. Second to last.
Momo sighed as they looked through their things. The captain with arguably the most momentum heading into this year’s League putting on that sort of showing was unacceptable. The kneejerk calls for their resignation as captain were sure to flood in. Either that or the continual echoes of the barely started season being “momover” already would grow louder and louder.
They pulled out a medal at long last. The gold that still shined brightly at every angle and the engraved text that served as the reminder that they were a Marbula One individual champion against all odds was a mockery now. Why they even brought this was beyond them; maybe they had gotten a little too used to marbles begging and pleading to see it to forget.
Momo, donning their Marbula One individual championship medal. (Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)
Without thinking, they rolled up to the mirror in the room and slipped the golden ribbon around them, the medal glimmering as proudly as it had the first time they wore it. They smiled into the glass as if their reflection was the thousands of fans who had waited years for this moment, hoping to see the version of Momo who carried their achievements with pride and grace, the version of themselves who would lead Team Momo to greatness once again.
Their smile faded the longer their blurred gaze lingered on their reflection.
Project Marblearth 