2026-02-12, 09:26 AM - Word count:
“Again – and this time, set your feet a bit wider. Stay on your toes.” Calvinball is doing his best to get Turd Ferguson into playing shape as he scrambles to convert from an outfielder to a goalkeeper. A fine undertaking – but a difficult one when the season is already underway.
After taking a 3-1 beating in his first match, Turd is back on the training ground with Calvinball, sweating in the heat and humidity of Bangkok at the Krung Thep training facility. “Ready – go!” Calvin presses a button and another ball launches from the robotic shot creator on the edge of the box. The contraption was the brainchild of Divogo, the mad scientist behind CD Tenochtitlan’s recent cup run. It can launch a soccer ball with varying degrees of spin and velocity with startling precision, allowing Turd the opportunity to see shots from a variety of angles.
“Fucking hell!” Turd groans as he picks himself up off the turf, bemoaning a near miss. “You almost had that one! Your reach and command of the box are improving.” Calvin urges Turd to keep going, to take each small failure as another step towards success. So Turd stands in the box and takes a beating, jumping all over the place as ball after ball gets launched towards the net. Turd is exhausted, but he knows that this kind of all out training will one day shape him into an elite goalkeeper, someone his team knows can be counted on to make the stop in the biggest moment. So Turd keeps on trying.
After taking a 3-1 beating in his first match, Turd is back on the training ground with Calvinball, sweating in the heat and humidity of Bangkok at the Krung Thep training facility. “Ready – go!” Calvin presses a button and another ball launches from the robotic shot creator on the edge of the box. The contraption was the brainchild of Divogo, the mad scientist behind CD Tenochtitlan’s recent cup run. It can launch a soccer ball with varying degrees of spin and velocity with startling precision, allowing Turd the opportunity to see shots from a variety of angles.
“Fucking hell!” Turd groans as he picks himself up off the turf, bemoaning a near miss. “You almost had that one! Your reach and command of the box are improving.” Calvin urges Turd to keep going, to take each small failure as another step towards success. So Turd stands in the box and takes a beating, jumping all over the place as ball after ball gets launched towards the net. Turd is exhausted, but he knows that this kind of all out training will one day shape him into an elite goalkeeper, someone his team knows can be counted on to make the stop in the biggest moment. So Turd keeps on trying.
