Set out in the middle of the small room was an exquisitely appointed foosball table. The outer paneling was a rich, dark tan stained oak with thick wooden legs, hand carved with lion's paws at the bottom. The handle grips were real rubber, firm to the touch and floated gently on a roller bearing for precision, instant turning and stopping. The tabletop itself was a smooth piece of slate covered with pool table quality green felt. The mid-line, defense-lines, and goal-lines were hand painted onto the felt with a master craftman's precision. The interior of the game was painted to look like a football stadium. Some of the people in the crowd looked almost lifelike.

Most people only noticed the expensive qualities second. Most instead focused on the players hanging off the eight steel rods. There were two teams of eight players, two to a rod facing off against one another. The detail on each player was as uncanny as it was unusual. The players were dressed in white or sky blue, sleeveless tees; gold shorts with a thin blue line of trim; and black and gold sneakers. You could see the individual laces in the painted on footwear. The player's last names were written across the back of their tees and there were black numbers stenciled on the front of the tees. But most did not notice any of that at first.

Most people noticed the figures first. Each was very detailed with legs that curved like thighs and calves instead of the usual straight cuts found in cheaper foosball tables. These were not machine extruded figures. They were each individually carved, so finely wrought, you expected them to hop down from the rod and walk into the tunnel after a game.

First thing anyone noticed was that the figures were all female. They each had different faces, different measurements, and different body types. While all were fit for soccer, the variance in each figure was uncanny. Rodriguez (#4) on the white team has the biggest, roundest ass. Her smile would light a room if she was not five inches tall. Sanchez (#18) on the blue team had the fullest chest but it was covered by curly locks of hair that looked so real you wanted to move the strand in front of her eyes out of the way for her.

When the game was in play, the women called out to each other as they passed the ball to one other. If you looked carefully, their expressions would tell you the score of the game. They never acknowledged the human players though: they stayed in character calling out to one another with jeers when they missed a pass and cheers when they made a successful goal.

It felt like the whole team was jumping up and down when one side scored; yet they never moved off their rods -- never moved at all. Some people found playing the table unnerving though they could not figure out why.

On a small pedestal under the table was a small brass plaque. It read:

Granted: 8 March, 1979.
May we play football together forever.