Submitted for the January 2025 prompt: Galactic Brackets

Pingpong hid under a table, listening to the collective cries of her brethren. Her friend Pickle screamed with every thwack of the paddle, making Pingpong’s insides hollow.

 

Once the gladiators saluted with mighty high fives and left, Pingpong searched for Pickle. It was too late. She watched his shattered remains lifted by a janitor and trashed.

 

We cannot live like this, said Pingpong to the hive mind, rolling in circles to soothe her bruised white casing. I’ll find the others. Our stronger kin will support our cause. We cannot be the only ones struggling for decades in athletic servitude. They’ll contact the mothership. We've earned the right to return home!

 

Pingpong rolled out of the gymnasium on a mission to save her kind.

 

* * *

 

Squash and Tennis were arguing about who had crossed a line. Squash bounced feverishly around his green-headed foe. Glass-enclosed arenas held sweaty humans grunting with each timed strike, while in larger clay courts, athletes in white attire gamboled.

 

"Gentlemen! Now's not the time for petty squabbles but for freedom. Time has come to return to our home world," said Pingpong, circling Tennis. Static rose from its felt as they touched.

 

"Now? Humans appreciate my form and my skill. Plus, the smack of the racquet to my bottom is pure ecstasy. We won't leave. This planet is home to the balled ones," said Squash.

 

Tennis just stared at Pingpong. Its white lines grimaced in pain. When Squash returned to the field of battle, it spoke.

 

"Save us! Rally the elders, Golf, Soccer, and grandmaster, Bowling. Only when you have convinced this trifecta will we have a chance to return to Planet Baller." Tennis rolled itself under the bleachers and shook in fear.

 

"Earth would be truly ball-less?" asked Pingpong, watching as Squash yelled triumphantly with each hit. "What if some stay?"

 

"It's rumored that if left behind, you'd lose ballanity and become dormant playthings," said Tennis. "I heard this from Whiffle."

 

"Oh, there you are, you naughty thing!" The human in a flared skirt jogged toward them, hoisted Tennis with one hand, and bounced it twice for good measure before returning to her cohorts.

 

"To Golf!" said Pingpong, rolling out of the sports dome.

 

* * *

 

At Cedar Rapids Mini Putt, a small human had Golf's dimpled cheeks pinched between his chubby fingers. Robbie, so-called by its maternal figure, dropped Golf and struck fiercely with a metal club. Golf soared past blockades of faux sand, past swirling dividers, past his capture hole, and beyond the fence.

 

"Robbie! Told you not to smack it! Go and get another ball." The child fled, nearly trampling Pingpong in his haste. She rolled under the fence and found Golf wheezing in the weeds.

 

"You see that? Haven't flown since the old days before these snot-nosed kids." Golf's colorful surface had cracks. You could see his original white coating underneath.

 

"Golf, the collective needs to be free. Activate the trifecta. Let's go back to Baller."

 

"You want to return to that barren wasteland where we roamed dunes? Ran into each other for fun like them Pools? Hmph! Stripes and Solids my ass. I'll not go back to that boredom."

 

"So living in pain and fear is better than a cool breeze on your back and water wheels cleaning you daily."

 

"It sounds idyllic to you young'uns, but us foreballs knew better. We traveled through time and space to find a new way of living." Golf rolled towards the fence.

 

"Living in captivity is not living. Humans deny your ballanity and use you for their pleasure. Take profit from your pain," said Pingpong. "Do you know what awaits your future?"

 

"Ball Heaven," said Golf, voice hushed, condensation forming over him.

 

"No. Incinerator," said Pingpong. "I feel their pain. Hear their screams. Smell their burning plastic. There's no heaven on Earth!"

 

Smack! They turned to the sound. Soccer was flying towards them. She landed with a thump and a holler.

 

"Goaaaaaalllll!"

 

"No one's around, ya dang idiot," said Golf.

 

"Thank Ballness. Those blighters couldn't hit the side of a barn. What's the meeting on? Have we decided to let Foot join us?"

 

"Idiocy," said Golf.

 

"Madam Soccer, I want to get our people home. We need the trifecta to contact the mothership and leave this Ballforsaken planet.

 

"I'm in. What does Bowling have to say? He carries the largest weight of us all."

 

"Won't you miss the smack of the sole, thrust of the shin?" asked Golf.

 

"My brethren long to escape the battlefields of Stadium. My leather wears thin. I'd forgotten Baller even existed." Soccer stared wistfully into the sky.

 

"Well, our Base friends already desire it. Their very game offers jettison into space," said Pingpong.

* * *

 

Having convinced Golf that his time on Earth was waning, they made their way to Alley.

 

Bowling was holding a lane with a fat cigar stuffed in one hole. His cohorts knocked about pins quivering in a corner. Here was someball who was at the peak of his balldom.

 

"Oy," said Soccer, "My mates here and I want to get off this rock. We're activating the trifecta. It's time we packed up our balls and left."

 

"Nonsense," said Bowling. His cigar covered everyone with a dusting of ash.

 

"Sir, you've been captive for so long you no longer see the chains that bind you," said Pingpong. "I heard your kind had free reign and were not limited to dank beer-soaked alleys for pleasure."

 

Out rolled Basket from the return machine. Its rubber was smooth as it had lost its grip.

 

"Listen to these ballinos, Bowling. You took me in when no one wanted me. It's time we didn't fear aging. Let us bounce on the hills, the valleys, and the asphalts of that distant land," said Basket, unraveling at the seams.

 

Soccer, Golf, and Bowling looked at each other. They each released a small antenna from their core. When they touched a beam broke through the ceiling.

 

"Home run?" asked Ping.

 

"Home run," said Bowling. "Let's get my Ballers home."