We here at The False 9 Texas are nothing if not beheld to traditions. Not ersatz traditions like one might stumble upon in Frisco. No, we supporters of The FC (or, as we affectionately call it, “El FC”) take our traditions seriously. We have decided to revive the ancient Roman act of consulting sacred chickens in times of trial. (https://quod.lib.umich.edu/d/did/did2222.0000.865/–sacred-chickens?rgn=main;view=fulltext;q1=Roman+necromancy#:~:text=Sacred%20chickens%20were%20chickens%20raised,drawn%20from%20the%20sacred%20chickens%20.) As we began preparations for a new season, eager to watch our boys in their contests of skill and strength, confident in the tactical nous of our beloved Wolff, we scoured the Greater Austin Metropolitan Area for birds strong in their predicative powers. This is not as easy as it sounds. Truly, no work for bantam weights. We didn’t want anyone to cry fowl on our choices.
After an exhaustive search and flock chosen, we commenced the taking of the auguries. Our lead bird, San Julius, a comely red layer, was approached by our own Turd Verdeson who scratched his way up to the rank of pullarius, or feeder. At first, frightened by his exaggerated visage, she wandered into a vegetive patch (see above). But then, casting her glance upon the ethically-sourced pelleted feed, gamely sprinted over. Eating eagerly while simultaneously scratching the ground, I and the other augures exchanged knowing looks. This could be nothing but a positive sign from the soccer gods. San Julius foretells victory over FC Do They Really Call That Chili by a score of 3-1.
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
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