Sweat and Blood

put your all into it | Beckett Archibald Graves

They weren't disappointing him, so that was something. They hadn't been playing as terribly as he thought that they were capable of, and the other two Chasers must have hated how he referred to Vesper because they finally stepped up their game and showed him why they had been recruited to the team. The last game had been really close, but Marcus wasn't as disappointed as he could be. He was going to get himself some candy later in the day, and he was going to go out and clear his head from the craziness that had been going on, and he was going to pretend that everything was just dandy until then. He needed to keep reminding himself that everyone was working just as hard as they could, and that didn't just apply to his Quidditch team, it applied to absolutely everything going on in the Ministry. They were working as hard as they could to make everything just how it should be.

That took blood, sweat, and tears. But they didn't show the tears, because they weren't babies, they were full-grown wizards and witches and they were bigger than that. Sebastian was working as hard as he could, and Marcus was too. Blood and sweat. He had just finished up giving his team a pep talk that was only slightly similar to the one that he had been giving himself, and he was dismissing them all for the day because they had been doing pretty decent work. He didn't drill them into the ground because he didn't want them to be sore and overworked for the next match, but he forced them to do their drills more than usual so that he could keep them from failing when they went up against the Kestrals, because they were going to be a lot harder to beat than Ilkey, who they had absolutely demolished. Marcus was sure that was because he let his team commit as many fouls as possible, but...

They needed more. They were tenth right now, and that was because of how tight the game had been with Puddlemere. He needed his Chasers to score as much as possible, he needed to remind them to hold off on the Snitch until they were up by over one hundred, he needed... Marcus took a deep breath, formulating a list in his mind. Then, because he couldn't remember everything as quickly as he had really wanted to, he wished that he had parchment and a quill, which he never carried around with him. 

Sweat and Blood

Outfit

He had gotten Liv the Tornados as a present, even though it was officially his name on all of the paperwork. In writing, he was the one that owned the team, but anyone that knew them knew that it was really all Liv. He had gotten them for her, and his assistant had even taken to calling them Liv’s Tornados when discussing them at work. Beck knew that some people might find the head of the department of magical games and sports owning a team to be a bit of a conflict of interest, but that was why he made sure that the team was held to the highest standards possible. And they had a hell of a coach too, even if he… well, he was a Slytherin and anyone that had ever played a game against a Slytherin knew what that meant. It was part of the reason why he was so damn good at his job. Beckett didn’t care if they played a little dirty, as long as they won. But when it came to technical aspects of the job, the things that had to go through the Ministry, he always made sure that there was no room for anyone to think that he was favoring his team. They were held to high standards and they delivered. As far as games went so far this season, well… admittedly they weren’t fairing as well as they had last year.

They had won the European Cup back in the winter, and that had been right after winning their last league season. To win all three in a row would be nothing short of a marvel, and something that hadn’t been achieved in some time. He wanted that. He wanted them to win this season, and they hadn’t lost a match. That was probably the most aggravating part of this. The Tornados had not lost a match so far, but point wise they weren’t doing as well as other teams. They needed to be more strategic, and he was sure that was something that Flint was stressing in trainings and practice these days. That it wasn’t enough to win, they had to blow teams out of the bloody water in order to rise through the standings enough to make it into the semi-finals. They had to start winning by more momentous numbers than they had been doing thus far, and he thought they could still pull this off. But he thought he’d stop by to see how Flint was fairing. He didn’t know if he was busy, he figured there was a good chance he might be, but he wanted to see how everything was going.

He had decided his department could live without him for a little while. His assistant was more than capable of dealing with anything that happened while he was away, and he knew that she would alert him if anything major happened. That was usually the benefit of his department—nothing major really happened. There weren’t often many emergencies, though occasionally there were hiccups with foreign countries and matches that had him talking to the department of international magical cooperation. After all, their political climate worried some, and others were fond of the change and wanted to get in contact with him, to personally invite the Minister and his family to matches. It all depended on the country, but usually problems with foreign countries in some way or another were what he had to deal with. And he didn’t think anything catastrophic would happen today. “Flint.” He said with a nod and a grin as he approached him. “How’s everything going?” He knew the man would give him the real answer, the truth of how their odds were looking for their next match up, and anything else going on.

The more that he was thinking about it the angrier he was getting. Marcus hated losing more than anything in the world (except maybe Gryffindors), and the fact that they were winning their games and still managing to be farther down in the league was actually frustrating him. He wanted them to have less bye-weeks, he wanted his team playing every week to prove to the world that they deserved to win. They were working harder than ever, he had been beating them into the ground. Was that the problem? Had he run them too hard and they were losing their edge? Were they focused on other activities? He couldn't have them becoming unfocused any more. Marcus wanted them to win more than anything, and he was trying to make sure that they got there by him not having to Imperius a referee because he was having his team beat the others fair and square and with the normal Quidditch fouls.

When Beckett had approached him Marcus had been running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. He couldn't lose his top at them all today, he had already shouted more than once and he wasn't sure he wanted to lose his voice in the long run. They had too much for him to do and he hated casting Sonorous on his throat because it felt loud and scratchy and would sound absolutely ridiculous if he had managed to lose his voice in its entirety. It would make practice longer and more terrible, and if he was going to make sure that they listened to him he needed to be scary and not sick. "It's..." He trailed off, scrunching up his nose in thought. How was it, really? He wasn't about to lie, but the truth was hurting him and he hated how he had to respond. "It's not going as well as I want it to." He let out a string of expletives after that, aimed towards his feet.

"These Chasers," he hissed, digging his heel into the ground as he crossed his arms. "I work them as hard as I can and they still can't manage to keep control of the Quaffle long enough to score.

Beckett knew that Marcus was incredibly lucky that it wasn’t Liv that had come looking for him today, to ask him how they were this bloody far now in the standings when they’d won every game. He had heard more than a few of his wife’s rants in passing weeks, and that redheaded temper wasn’t something that he wanted to mess with. He knew that Marcus probably would have gotten it even worse, and he also knew that it wouldn’t be long until it was his wife tracking Marcus down and giving him a piece of her mind. But today, the Tornados’ coach only had to deal with him and, admittedly, he was much calmer about Quidditch than Olivia was. He loved it—loved going to games, and he knew more about Quidditch than most anyone, what with him heading up the department of magical games and sports, but right now, he was pretty unaffected but their standing. He thought the numbers would find a way to equal out. He was curious enough to come here, to see what Flint thought and what he thought needed to be done to get them to another winning season, but he wasn’t going to start yelling at him like it was likely Olivia would do if she came looking for him.

If he came home with some answers, Flint might just be saved from Olivia’s wrath for just a little while longer. She wanted another winning season. So did he. They were on quite the streak and he wanted it to stay that way. They’d won the last league season, and then the European Cup right after that… winning yet another league cup would be a feat—one that hadn’t happened in at least a decade, and he wanted the Tornados to pull that off. He knew it was still possible. They had yet to lose a game, they simply just hadn’t been scoring in the sort of way that had their standings high enough, and that was what mattered. Really, as long as they got in top eight, he was happy. The higher up they were, the better, obviously, but as long as they got into the semi-finals, he thought they would manage to pull off the win. He had no doubt. But he still wanted to know what Flint had planned, because he knew there were strategies that the chasers especially would need to put into place—and the seeker needed to not catch the snitch before the time was right. That was something they needed to stress.

Clearly, Flint wasn’t all that happy about this either, from how clearly irritated he looked when Beckett approached him. He thought he knew the answer to the question before he asked it, so the string of curse words after he had answered him wasn’t entirely a surprise. He chuckled at his words, but nodded in agreement. The fault did seem to lie with the chasers in this case. They scored, but not enough. The beaters tended to keep the opposing team from scoring too much. It was all a matter of the game ending before they got enough points to really keep their standing up there. They hadn’t lost a game—not one game, and yet their standing didn’t show that. He knew that Olivia wanted that to change, and he thought coming home with some answers might help her mood, at least a little bit. ”They need to score more… our margins aren’t enough to keep us ahead. The beaters need to keep the opposing seeker occupied so ours doesn’t feel the need to grab the snitch so early.” Their seeker was damn good, they just needed to leave the snitch be until they’d scored enough. He just knew that was hard to pull off when they were worried about the other seeker getting there first.

Marcus wasn't about to get fired over this, especially when he was working as hard as he could to keep the team in ship-shape. And really, through the circumstances they could be doing better, and he knew it. He knew that the Graves knew it, too, and he was just hoping that Olivia didn't decide that she was ultimately done with how he was running the team, even if he brought them to the top in past seasons. Honestly, he was grateful that it wasn't Olivia who was out there, because they went head-to-head with who loved the Tornadoes more, and he knew that he would be getting an earful from the witch. And really, he couldn't face off against her. She would have yelled at him already, they would have been talking about the types of strategies that he had been using that hadn't quite worked yet. It would have been beneficial, but it would have been horrifying at the same time. Marcus didn't cry as a rule, but he was sure that he probably would have ended up sniffling apologetically, or something of the sort. He got emotional over Quidditch.

He was furious now, because as he went over everything on his little paper it was getting more and more annoying. They were doing fine by a lower team's standards, but not for Tornadoes. It didn't matter that they were winning, because even though winning was everything they still weren't scoring enough. His Chasers were doing their best, but the seeker kept catching the snitch far too early. He knew why there was pressure; they had to catch it before the other teams, and they were feeling stressed to make sure that the game didn't end too early. He couldn't move a beater away from their position, he needed them there for later plays. He could always tell the seeker to play dirtier. They needed to be a distraction for the other team. If the other seeker was too busy dodging he was going to have a harder time focusing on the snitch. Marcus ran a hand through his hair, frowning down at his feet. At least Beckett would know what he was thinking, or something of the sort. He was lucky that the Graves both adored Quidditch and cared as much as he did.

"I know," he muttered, shaking his head. He didn't say anything else for a moment, he just listened. He didn't want to offend his boss; Marcus really did enjoy his job. "We can afford to lose the beater about halfway through, but I have them focused on the chasers. I was thinking letting the seeker be a bit more aggressive." 

Even though it was his name on the paperwork, even though he was the official owner of the Tutshill Tornados, everyone who was everyone knew that they were really Liv’s. He had bought them for her, and she was far more passionate about them than he was. He loved Quidditch—he loved going to matches, he got pissed when they lost, but he wasn’t going to contemplate strategies all day to figure out how to rise up through the rankings. He knew they would make it to the semi-finals at the least. They were good enough, and he thought their scores would at least get them into the post season, even if they weren’t number one when they made it there. That was all that mattered, after all, but he would let Liv freak out about it, because it was amusing. Her temper just was entertaining, when it wasn’t directed at him at least, and right now, he thought that it was mostly directed at Marcus, which worked out well for him. He did feel a little bit bad for the man, just a little, so he figured there was no harm in coming here today and seeing if he had any ideas that he could then tell Liv.

If he had some good ideas, and they came to her through Beckett, Marcus might be able to avoid being yelled at for a little longer. It was worth a shot at least, and admittedly, Beckett was a little interested to hear what he had in mind as well. As long as they kept winning, he was happy. Logistics about how many points they were winning by and it not being enough, wasn’t going to bother him unless they were on the cusp of not making it into the post season, and right now, they were fine. They scored enough, and they won, and that was enough for him right now. If that ever changed, then Marcus would have two Graves yelling at him, and that would be much worse. Merlin help him if the Falcons beat the Tornados, because then he knew that Liv was really going to lose it. She didn’t like losing to the Falcons, and if that happened, Marcus would be lucky to get out of this with his job.

That showdown would be more than a little bit amusing to watch but he did hope it didn’t come to that. It would be rather unfortunate to lose Marcus as a coach, because Beckett did think that he did good work. But he was likely to side with his wife if they had a bad season, but if they didn’t end up winning it, it was pretty damn unlikely that it was going to be Flint’s fault. He was clearly working hard, and unless he made some massive fuck-up, he wouldn’t agree with his wife to sack him. There was still time for a fuck-up, but nothing had happened yet. They just weren’t scoring enough to be the first in the league. They were doing fine, they just weren’t performing up to his wife’s standards, or Flint’s standards too, as far as he could tell. “Might as well. It certainly couldn’t hurt.” If it kept the other seeker occupied, if it gave the chasers more time to score, then the seeker being more aggressive might just be exactly what they needed.

They weren't allowed to lose, he wasn't about to let them. They were the best, and Marcus knew that, and so did everyone else. The Tornadoes had the strongest players, they recruited the strongest and the smartest, and they fought harder than anyone. Sure, there were times where their moves were less than legal, but as long as they didn't get caught it was fine. Quidditch was a violent sport, there was no telling what could happen and who could get hurt, so he was willing to pretend like his team had nothing to do with it half of the time. They were formidable players, they were strong, and if they did lose, he was going to lose his mind and also his job. Marcus was serious about that- Sebastian was going to have to pick him off of the ground and then put him back together, and even then he might end up throwing himself off of something... Well, he would get found, healed, and then he would be out of a job and in St. Mungo's, but it was the thought that counted, really, because he didn't know what he would do without quidditch, and there was no way that his team was going to lose if he had any say in all of it. They were doing rough now, but that was all about points, that was all about their strategy and the seeker catching the snitch far too quickly for his liking.

He had shouted it as much as he could, he was getting tired of his seeker feeling like he had to end the game too swiftly, and Marcus was struggling to find a way from keeping that from happening. He knew that it was because of the other teams; likely they were feeling too threatened by how well Vesper and the others were playing, and they felt like they had to end the game swiftly so they came up ahead. It wasn't going to happen, but it was causing him large amounts of stress... Because they were doing everything right, they just weren't doing it perfectly, and that was what was most annoying. Quidditch was like a symphony, and there were parts that were out of tune, and those parts just happened to be the most important and signified the end of the match. He needed to fix the problem, though, as the coach, or he at least needed to offer them a doable solution so that everything could get back to normal... And he also needed some sweets and a scotch so he could at least drown his sorrows a bit before Olivia got there and chewed him out completely.

Marcus really, really, didn't want to be out of a job, and he was quite certain that Olivia would have Beckett fire him, or she would come out and do it herself if the season got any worse. They would be out a fantastic coach, sure, but he knew that he would really deserve it if he couldn't get the team to get their acts together. "We're intimidating the other team too much, which is the problem," he grumbled, scuffing his foot against the ground. That was his theory, at least, and he was planning on sticking to it. It was the only thing that made much sense, anyway. "Other seeker feels threatened, ours has to run out like an idiot to guarantee the lead... I want him playing dirty until our chasers can make sure the lead is wide enough."

They were going to make it into the post season, and that was what Beckett cared about. There wasn’t a chance in hell that they’d get far enough down in the rankings, while winning every game, to not make it to the post season. Once that happened, the points wouldn’t matter—winning would matter, and that was something that they were good at. Of course, that wasn’t enough for Liv, and he didn’t really think that it was enough for Marcus. It was why they were going to continue to butt heads over their ranking and their points throughout the season, and he knew it. He thought it was amusing, which was mostly why he let it happen and didn’t try to get involved. It usually worked. The Tornados had won the European Cup, after all, and the League Cup before that. To win the League Cup two years in a row, and the European Cup as well… that would be a feat. He wanted it to happen, and he had every confidence that it would. He would let them worry about numbers ad points throughout the season, but they would make it to the finals, he was sure, and then points wouldn’t matter. Then, it was just losing or winning, and he thought they had a damn good chance of winning, no matter who they were up against.

There were some teams that he was worried about this season, ones that might actually stand half a chance at beating them, but they would just have to see how it went. If they started losing, he might be a little bit annoyed. As long as their numbers kept them in the top eight, he would be fine, but if that started to change, then so would his mood. Time would tell, but right now, he was fine. He would talk to Marcus, see what ideas he had in mind, but Beckett just wasn’t all that worried. He kept up with the statistics of the rest of the teams enough to be well aware what they were up against, and he knew that they had some damn good players on the team. He knew that Flint was a good coach. Hell, even if they lost in he end, he wouldn’t let Liv fire him—as long as they had a good season. He wanted a good season, but they weren’t going to win them all. He knew how much a team’s roster could change in a season, how much their strategy could change, and how much they could improve. Someone could surprise them this season, true enough, but then they would just get them back next season. There was always another season, another league cup to win. He wasn’t as worried as Liv, but watching her get riled up was incredibly amusing for him.

He wagered that Marcus didn’t think it was nearly as fun, because he had to actually deal with Liv’s wrath if she was pissed off. If she was mad, it was going to be at him. She wasn’t going to yell at players, or anything like that—she would just get mad at Flint and talk about the plans that she had in order to get them to win by enough points. She had the strategies down, she watched closely and figured out ways to beat teams. Beck was like that too when he wanted to be, but he found it more amusing to watch Liv do it, and then yell at Flint if he did something wrong. It was practically his entertainment of the week at this point. “Just about the only thing you can do if you think that’s what’s going on.” If they were really intimidating the other teams, into feeling like they need to get after that snitch quickly, then the only way to really combat that was if their own seeker was more aggressive. It made sense. He actually wondered if he had told Liv this theory yet, because he would be interested in her take on it. He was decently sure he hadn’t told her yet though, because then Beckett thought that he definitely would have heard about it from her by now.

Losing when he was in Hogwarts was terrible, it was something that had hurt him deeply. When the Slytherin team lost, he felt like he was responsible, even as just another player. He should have scored more goals, he should have played dirtier and harder. He felt like people were far crueler when they lost; he know he was. In his youth he recalled the way that people would call him troll, he knew that winning was the only thing that made him feel successful. It shouldn't have worked like that, it was terrible, but Marcus really couldn't do much more than play quidditch anyway. The loss hurt a lot worse then, and although he had roughly gotten over it the sting was still there. He knew that there were still people that liked his failures, he knew that there were people who took pride in the way that he faltered sometimes. Bell was just one of those people. Wood was another, and he probably felt something far happier than she did. He couldn't lose, he couldn't let his team fail at anything. They had to succeed, they had to prove that they were the best team. They were, of course, they were leagues above the Falcons and far beyond where Puddlemere had ever been. This was supposed to be a year for success, a year to prove to everyone that the Tornadoes were really the best team out there. 

He didn't want the Falcons to think that they could take anything from them, and it was getting annoying to think that they were considering it. Marcus knew that the Tornadoes were far better, he knew that they were twice the team... It was just a matter of them playing like it, and he wanted to make sure that they did everything right. They had to, really. He had been working them hard enough that he knew they could take it, he knew that they could do it at this point. There shouldn't have been anything holding them back, there shouldn't have been a problem anymore. He had already asked Vesper if she thought that they were being overworked, but she hadn't really thought so, so it wasn't exhaustion that was throwing them off. He had checked everything, Marcus was being overly thorough and nervous because there was no way that they could lose... Not at all. Because losing meant that he was a failure, and he wasn't going to listen to that.

Besides, he would be dead if they lost. There was no way that he was going to let that happen, he was determined to keep them winning. And this new strategy should help, everything should be fine now. "I'm glad that we're playing well enough that this is a problem," he began, his words still a mumble. Marcus was frustrated and didn't particularly enjoy talking. But that was no different than normal. Quidditch was the one thing that he could manage speaking about at length, and even then it was taking him a little bit to figure out what he really wanted to say. He wasn't charismatic like his brother, he was a mess, a mess that really liked quiddtich and didn't like himself. "But this tactic better work." Or else his head would likely be chopped off. 

Checking in on Marcus was for the man’s own good, really. He would likely be receiving a visit from Olivia soon enough, and talking to him first lessened the chance that the conversation ended in violence. Or at least yelling. Olivia’s temper was hard to rival, and when it came to Quidditch, she could get a little… passionate. That would be the word he’d use, at least, but he was sure plenty of people could come up with others. He considered himself to be something of a middleman in this situation, trying to get any kind of information out of Marcus that would make Olivia’s mood better when he talked to her about it. He wasn’t sure how well that would go, but it was worth a shot. Really, to him, they would make it to the end of the season and that was what mattered. They would get their shot at the semi-finals at this rate, because they weren’t losing. They just weren’t winning by enough to stay number one in the standings. That was really all there was to it. It mattered to Olivia, it mattered to Flint, probably some of the players, but Beckett was fine with looking at the big picture. Would he complain if they were first in the league? Of course not. But he could see that they were doing damn well, he could see that they kept on winning, and that was what mattered.

But he figured he might as well attempt to save Marcus the headache, and talk down Olivia. If he could just get enough information from Marcus about what he was thinking, and what he was going to do, then he thought they would be all set. It was just wasn’t necessarily all that easy to get information out of the man. He wasn’t the easiest person in the world to talk to. There was nothing wrong with that; some people were just… curt, and quiet, and didn’t say much. But it made it a little bit harder for him to get information from him, that would actually help his case with Olivia. He knew what would happen if this season ended, and the Tornados didn’t win. More than likely, Liv would start talking his ear off about needing a new coach. Beckett didn’t think that was necessary. They were playing well, so Flint was obviously training them well—it wasn’t his fault, per say, that they weren’t winning by enough points. He wasn’t playing the matches. He could only instruct them so much. If he could get that through to her, there was a good chance he’d keep his job, but she’d more than likely find someone else to blame. But he would deal with that later, because for now, it was their coach that was going to be in the line of fire.

Really, there was no reason for him to want to help Marcus out at all. He could just leave him to the wolves—or in this case, one wolf, and let Flint defend his decisions to Olivia instead of him. Beckett had just decided to try to help out, and he would still tell Livvy everything that he’d told him today. It just wasn’t all that much to go on. One new strategy, in hopes that it gave the chasers more time to get the points that they needed. Beckett nodded at the man’s words, giving him time to think over more in case he had something else he wanted to say. He understood that it was tricky to deal with something like this, but to a coach, that was what mattered. Winning wasn’t always enough. It could be, but when they kept winning, a coach still obviously had to have something to focus on. There was always room for improvements, and in this case, it was trying to get their standing in the league to reflect how well they were playing. “I’ll let Liv know—but I’ll wager you’ll hear from her soon enough anyhow.” He said, shaking his head. There was no use denying that. He was sure the coach was well aware that she’d be in touch eventually.