Unseen Academicals

blinked died.
    ‘One has to move with the times, of course,’ said the Patrician, shaking his head.
    ‘We tend not to, over the road,’ said Ridcully. ‘It only encourages them.’
    ‘People do not understand the limits of tyranny,’ said Vetinari, as if talking to himself. ‘They think that because I can do what I like I can do what I like. A moment’s thought reveals, of course, that this cannot be so.’
    ‘Oh, it is the same with magic,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘If you flash spells around like there’s no tomorrow, there’s a good chance that there won’t be.’
    ‘In short,’ Vetinari continued, still talking to the air, ‘I am intending to give my blessing to the game of football, in the hope that its excesses can be more carefully controlled.’
    ‘Well, it worked with the Thieves’ Guild,’ Ridcully observed, amazed at his own calmness. ‘If there has to be crime, then it should be organized, I think that’s what you said.’
    ‘Exactly. I have to admit to the view that all exercise for any purpose other than bodily health, the defence of the realm and the proper action of the bowels is barbaric.’
    ‘Really? What about agriculture?’
    ‘Defence of the realm against starvation. But I see no point in people just…running about. Did you catch your Megapode, by the way?’
    How the hells does he do it? Ridcully wondered. I mean, how? Aloud, he said, ‘Indeed we did, but surely you are not suggesting that we were merely “running about”?’
    ‘Of course not. All three exceptions apply. Tradition is at least as important as bowels, if not quite so useful. And, indeed, the Poor Boys’ Fun has some remarkable traditions of its own, which some might find it worthwhile exploring. Let me be frank, Mustrum. I cannot enforce a mere personal dislike against public pressure. Well, I can, strictly speaking, but not without going to ridiculous and indeed tyrannical lengths. Over a game? I think not. So…as things stand, we find teams of burly men pushing and shoving and kicking and biting in the faint hope, it seems to me, of propelling some wretched object at some distant goal. I have no problem with them trying to kill one another, which has little in the way of a downside, but it has now become so popular once more that property is being damaged, and that cannot be tolerated. There have been comments in the Times . No, what the wise man cannot change he must channel.’
    ‘And how do you intend to do that?’
    ‘By giving the job to you. Unseen University has always had a fine sporting tradition.’
    ‘“Had” is the right word,’ sighed Ridcully. ‘In my day we were all so…so relentlessly physical. But if I was to suggest so much as an egg and spoon race these days they’d use the spoon to eat the egg.’
    ‘Alas, I did not know your day was over, Mustrum,’ said Lord Vetinari, with a smile.
    The room, never normally noisy, sank into deeper silence.
    ‘Now look here—’ Ridcully began.
    ‘This afternoon I shall be speaking to the editor of the Times, ’ said Vetinari, gently surfing his voice over that of the wizard with all the skill of a born committee manipulator, ‘who is, as we know, a very civic-minded person. I’m sure he will welcome the fact that I am asking the university to tame the demon foot-the-ball, and that you have, after careful thought, agreed to the task.’
    I don’t have to do this, Ridcully thought carefully. On the other hand, since it is what I want, and thereby don’t have to ask for, this may be unwise. Damn! This is so like him!
    ‘You would not object if we raise our own team?’ he managed.
    ‘Indeed, I positively demand that you do so. But no magic, Mustrum. I must make that clear. Magic is not sporting, unless you are playing against other wizards, of course.’
    ‘Oh, I am a very sporting man, Havelock.’
    ‘Capital! How is the Dean settling in at Brazeneck, by the way?’
    If it had been anyone else asking, Ridcully thought, that would simply be a polite enquiry. But this is Vetinari, isn’t it…
    ‘I’ve been too busy to find out,’ he said loftily, ‘but I’m sure he will be fine when he finds his feet.’ Or manages to see them without a mirror, he added to himself.
    ‘I’m sure you must be pleased to see your old friend and colleague making his way in the world,’ said Vetinari, innocently. ‘And so is Pseudopolis itself, of course. I must say, I admire the sturdy burghers of that city for embarking on their