The year is 412 AD and you’re the eight-year old son of a Maya subsistence farmer
living in the outskirts of the great temple city of Yaxha.
Society might be complex now but your family isn’t.
The city might be richer than ever, but you personally have nothing.
You are the toil that survives this society.
You're the man behind the power.
And what they've deemed that you get to do in your life is farm.
Your day will be corn.
In fact, everything in your entire world will be corn.
You’ll wake up to it.
You’ll sleep on it.
It’s your universe.
It’s your God.
You even pray to it.
But you don’t want to be a farmer.
The temple never hears the farmers.
You see your father.
You see what this life did to him.
And you want more.
Although it might be limited, a society with complexity is a society of opportunity, and
even as a child you can see who everyone truly loves.
So in those off moments, in the times when nobody can find you and assign you work to do,
you borrow the community ball and try to figure out the game that your dad loves so much.
After all, how hard could it be?
You go to a wall and you start practicing.
You bounce it off your hip.
You try to keep it in the air with your body.
You miss, again, and again, but eventually you get the hang of it.
It hurts but, it’s kinda fun.
It's definitely better than farming.
Ten years later and you dominate that court like you were the twins themselves.
It’s getting to the point where nobody even wants to play you.
It just feels unfair.
It isn’t just that you’re good, you’re a competitor.
You play to win. You make it hurt.
When you bounce that hard rubber ball into their jaw they’re losing teeth, but you don’t let that stop you.
Not on this court.
You play hard because it’s a hard game, because life is hard, and you’re here to win.
Corn might be your god but this… ball… is life.
But today is not like other days.
Life for you is about to change.
Because when you wake up this morning there’s a group of priests waiting outside your door.
High people.
People who never once in their life even looked your way in the street.
But your father says that they have news for you.
That the war went well and we got their king.
He’s being hauled back to the city right now, as we speak.
And that means that there’s going to be a triumph.
And that means a party like nobody has ever seen.
And at the centre of all of it, a match to represent our victory.
King versus king.
And he wants you on his team.
The words hit you so hard you start to cough.
This is beyond your dream come true.
It’s like if the NBA finals and Independence day merged with Easter and the Queen’s coronation.
It’s the biggest thing that will ever happen in your world, ever.
And you will be dead centre.
Nothing could be more important than this.
This isn’t just a game.
It isn’t just a stand-in for a battle that the average citizen couldn’t see.
It’s one of the foundation pieces of your entire religion.
It represents the balance that holds your universe together.
It’s the meeting point of life and death. Of good and evil.
It’s so important that the gods themselves come to watch you play.
The underworld even has portals built into the court like windows.
If you play well enough they'll notice.
Your city will thrive.
Your corn will grow.
Your soldiers will win.
No pressure though.
But that’s not what you’re thinking about, not yet anyway.
You’re thinking about that ticket out.
Everyone’s gonna know your name now.
Know what you did.
You aren’t thinking about the gods when they ask if you’ll play, you’re thinking about providing a home for your family.
You’re thinking about having enough land to feed your eventual children.
You’re thinking about how proud this is gonna make your dad.
Of course you say yes.
Half your energy is just trying not to look giddy.
You can’t help but smile.
You’re getting respect from your friends and neighbours.
Even your enemies are bragging about how they know you.
And on game day the energy is electric.
This is the biggest festival that Yaxha has ever seen.
They haul that rotten old king out of his cell and bring him before you.
And honestly, he just looks tired.
His whole team, all those prisoners of war, they just look tired.
But as they approach the court, the Queen stands above the pitch and pulls a knife through her cheek.
The blood that she spills is collected and offered to the sacred fire at your feet.
It is the greatest honour that you’ll ever receive.
And yet standing there you’re almost numb to it.
It’s all just happening so fast, it's too much you can barely take it in.
But as soon as that game starts, that’s all over.
On the court you’re not frozen.
This might not be the practice pitch that you are used to but it is still your home.
And you play as hard as you ever have.
Not that you need to.
They’re barely even putting up a fight.
Like they haven’t eaten in days.
Like they’ve been weakened so that your king has no real competition.
But the tenacity of the opposition doesn’t seem to bother him, he’s having a great time,
he's celebrating every goal like it was a nail biter.
So why would it bother you.
And even though you’re clearly better than him, you make sure to set him up for the easy shots.
Because you know he needs to stay ahead of you in points.
You might be young but you’re not stupid.
And by the end of the game the opposing team is covered in blood,
their bruises are already rising dark and purple on their skin.
And yet they didn’t even get a point.
Not that that matters to the crowd.
They didn't want a nail biter.
They’re on their feet cheering, screaming.
Because the war is finally over, and now even the underworld knows that we won.
Surely the harvest is going to be amazing this year because this sacrifice will be enough to win over the Gods.
It’s a king.
This isn’t just a little cheek blood, this is straight from the neck.
They pay attention to that sort of thing.
The crowd start to feel more like a mob as those enemies are led off the court towards the sacrificial mound at the centre of town.
A dozen more prisoners are brought out from their cells to join them in death.
They might not have played the game but the underworld will take them all the same.
Their blood can still help keep this world in balance.
It can still grow the corn.
But that’s not what you’re thinking about.
The underworld might be important and all but it's not where you live.
You’re thinking about your city.
How you can already hear people whispering your name in the crowd behind you.
How that nobleman’s daughter keeps looking at you like you’re made from jade.
As that priest’s obsidian blade cuts through the neck of that foreign king,
and his head is mounted on the skull rack above the court, you smile.
Not just because from now on everyone knows you’re a champion.
Not just because you kept the universe in balance.
You’re beaming ear to ear because you made your father proud.
You saved your family.
That little boy was right.
This was definitely better than farming.
But me personally, I think I would have rather just watched.
This is Rare Earth.
[In Spanish] Thank you, my friend. It's a video.
Perfect. Thank you! [Girls giggling in the background]