(Redirected from Jamie Charles Golde)
Illustrated by Ada
Golde wearing a Whips Away jersey
|No. 51 – Seattle Summit|
|Species||Yellow-bellied Weasel ( Mustelidae )|
February 29, 1996|
Bieldside, Aberdeenshire, Scotland
|Listed height||6 ft 6 in (1.98 m)|
|Listed weight||209 lb (95 kg)|
|FBA draft||2017 / Round: 1 / Pick: 3rd overall|
|Selected by the Arizona Whips|
|Pro playing career||2017–present|
|Career highlights and awards|
|2020 Salary||$10 million|
|2021 Salary||$11 million|
|2022 Salary||$12 million|
|2023 Salary||$13 million|
|(OOC) Usage||Free to use within limits|
Jamie Charles Golde (Yellow-bellied Weasel, born February 9, 1996), also known as J.C. Golde, is a Scottish professional basketball player with the Arizona Whips of the Furry Basketball Association (FBA). Golde was widely considered one of the top players in soccer and basketball, and was ranked 4th in the 2017 draft class. He played soccer and basketball at Edinburgh University in Scotland. In 2017 Golde declared for the 2017 FBA Draft, where he was selected 3rd by the Arizona Whips.
Originally thought to become a star in the UK professional soccer leagues, JC surprised Europe when he announced his intentions to move across the Atlantic to chase his passion on the basketball courts.
Jamie was born in Bieldside, Scotland, but moved to Newcastle with his mother when he was young after his parents amicably divorced. Sometimes, people both realize they're better off as friends than as lovers. His mother re-married, and so he grew up most of his life with his mom and step-father.
As almost every parent with a young kid would, Golde's mother and biological father agreed to enroll him in an after-school activity, sports being the logical option. His biological Father was a huge football fan and introduced the lad to the sport when he visited his dad one of his visiting weekends. The young mustelid exhibited natural skills that stood out among the rest, and this stoked Jaime's passion for the athletic world. The hyperactive weasel bounced between soccer and basketball, often frequenting classes and scrimmages for both after classes.
In secondary school, JC received an exchange scholarship to visit the United States for a month during summer holiday. There, he met an enchanting girl who lived next door to his host family. JC and other students made visits to museums, the NASA Ames Research Center, and traveled to the Stanislaus Thrust basketball training center. Meeting a professional basketball team, combined with the enthusiasm his American friends had for the game, drove a new passion in the Scottish-Brit.
Once back in England, the university life chapter soon to open, teachers and coaches pushed J.C. more and more to pursue soccer due to his early promise and reputation on the soccer pitch. But it was a different scenario in the weasel's mind; the spark and interest for association football was dying, but people only saw the rising star full-back on the exterior. Little did they know that his visit to America cemented his love and work for the second sport, and for the intriguing American girl.
When he moved back to Scotland for Uni, his performance on the soccer pitch only improved as time progressed. His moral compass wouldn't let him give less than "110% effort, in everything I do. Anything less would only be letting myself down." He'd see his dad in the stands after every home match, beaming no matter the outcome of the game, and used that to keep himself going.
Basketball became a guilty pleasure during the cold and grey months, used as an excuse to change up his workout routine and keep himself pitch ready. Edinburgh University had a decent basketball program which allowed him to hone his skills and get experience playing against other university teams. The defensive and offensive principles of soccer gave him a unique play style on the basketball court that made him invaluable.
After studies and his sports activities, the weasel kept in touch with his lady friend many time zones away. She'd wish him a good night as she hopped the BART home from her part time job. Jamie's best mate Rory would get an ear full about Autumn. He'd heard the story what seemed like hundreds of times, about how they met when Jamie took a Summer exchange program to the states.
"It's not gonna last. Long distance relationships never do." Rory would say, rolling his eyes and taking Jamie by the shoulders. "What about one of the lovely girls at the pub? Or around campus?"
"They don't do anything for me. I got one girl on my mind. She's got a level head on her shoulders, and I love her personality. I'm gonna marry her someday." Jamie said.
"Bollocks. You gonna do one of those internet marriages? Or is she movin’ in with you?"
"We'll be living together, even if I move in with her in the States. We'll do it, Rory."
The end of studies came, and with much anticipation for an announcement about what Jamie was going to do. So much so, that the weasel was booked on a primetime talk show to reveal to the masses whether he was going to play soccer professionally. No one, including the basketball team he played with during many winters, nor his parents or closest friends, could have predicted what would happen next.
Jamie announced on live television that he entered the draft for the FBA to play as a swingfur, and that pending a contract, he'd be moving to either the US or Canada.
Reactions ranged from happiness, amusement, and disbelief, to anger, resentment, and disappointment especially from his closest friend and his biggest critics. Some soccer analysts called him the George Wallaby of football, referring to the Australian actor who played action movie spy James Pond for one film, then turned down a multi-million-dollar contract for further movies. Jamie’s best mate even accused Jamie of being bewitched by Autumn, equating her to a siren who would run his career aground.
As a freshman, J.C. made the Edinburgh University Men's 1st XI soccer team and went on to become a starting full-back for the soccer club. Golde also joined the basketball club and excelled to become a starting small forward on the Men's 1st team. During his 3 years at Edinburgh, J.C. was named Scottish national division player of the year for his 2016 basketball season, and was named Midland Valley division football player of the year in 2015 and 2016.
Arizona Whips (2017-present)
On September 15th, 2017, Golde was selected with the 3rd overall pick by the Arizona Whips.
| J.C.'s Change of Pace|
Written by Eaite
| The Troy Harvey Interview
The popular evening talk programme “The Troy Harvey Show” returned from break. Its host and namesake, a sharply dressed cheetah with golden eyes, was seated in a modern swivel chair facing the purple guest couch to the right. The audience applauded briefly and Troy smiles into the camera.
"...Welcome back to the Troy Harvey Show! My next is a masterful mustelid who's been flaunting fancy footwork on the Edinburgh University pitch: Jamie Golde!"
More applause filled the studio as a tall weasel in a three piece strode onto the set and over to the purple guest sofa. The dark fur on the back of his head contrasted sharply with the golden markings that flowed from the bottom of his mouth down his neck to the rest of his body. Two differently coloured eyes, one emerald, one sea blue, sparkled under the studio lights.
T.H.: "Welcome to the show Jaime. I'd like to—"
Jamie Golde: "You can call me J.C."
T.H.: "Ah, J.C. Golde,” The cheetah said with a smile. “They'll name a department store after you, I'm sure." He paused as the audience chuckled and J.C. gave a smirk. "Forgive me. Now, as I understand it, you've been pretty busy in university, particularly in sports?"
J.C.: "Yeah, Football of course, but I've also been doing a lot of basketball and chess."
T.H.: "Chess too? It’s bad enough that you could trounce me physically, but now you’re just showing off."
J.C.: “I never said I was great at chess.”
T.H.: “Well, be that as it may, I think you're a fine football athlete and certainly a looker. How many girls fawn over you so far?"
J.C.: "Well, just the other day a bouncer had to pry one off me."
J.C.: "Yeah. She didn't take kindly when I told her I already had a girlfriend either, haha."
T.H.: "Hear that ladies? Step off! You can't have him...yet." The audience responded with a mix of short laughter and disappointment. "Okay, down to business: When are you going to sign with one of the Association Football clubs? Sticking close to home, or are you coming down here to London?"
J.C.: "Well, it's funny you should mention that. We finished faxing some paperwork yesterday-"
T.H.: "Oh excellent!"
J.C.: "-to the United States."
T.H.: "Really? To play football over there?"
J.C.: “Actually, to play basketball in the FBA."
The cheetah’s mouth fell slightly agape in shock, and he looked from side to side as a quiet applause cut through murmurs, the weasel standing nonchalant to the minor controversy his decision would have caused now.
T.H.: "That's... quite a surprise! I figured you’d be a smash success in the Association though?"
J.C.: "Yeah, I thought about that. But, it's not what I really wanted. Basketball has been driving me lately, so I figured if I wanted to make a career out of sports, it should be basketball instead."
With eyebrows raised, Troy tried to switch gears, machining what to do after the curveball was thrown.
T.H.: "Well, I wish you the best of luck in basketball… and I’m sure you’ll do great!”
Troy forced a smile, his tail betraying his annoyance, and addressed the TV audience directly. ”We need to go to commercial break, but when we come back, we’ll bring Cain Munoz back out and have a small pub quiz with both our guests. That's all coming up next, on the Troy Harvey show!"
As the programme went to commercial, Troy reached over to shake J.C.’s hand, whispered some comments, then stood and walked off to the side in a hurry.
| Catching a Draft|
Written by Eaite and Harlow
© Eaite and Harlow
| VVVvvvvvv. VVVVVVVVVvvvvvvvv. VVVVVVVVvvvvvvvv.
“Who could it be now?!”
JC pulled his phone out and studied the screen. Autumn.
Jamie felt a bit of relief that it wasn’t his agent, or another tabloid, or another journalist trying to hound him about his career decision. Ever since his appearance on the Troy Harvey show, the news cycle seemed to have nothing better to do than criticize him or defend him. A very interesting young woman appears on the screen through video. Her voice rang like a bell through the phone, “Hey JC!”
“Hey Autumn. Boy am I glad to see you instead of my agent…” JC replied, his voice relaxing into a soft Scottish cadence. “Still hounding you?” “Yeah, the sports programmes especially. Heard they were doing some sort of simulation about what could have happened had I kept with footballing. Bollocks, all of it.” “Aww. Well, look forward to Florida.” “I AM. I want ta get away from here as soon as possible.” “…and look forward to seeing me again?” JC stared blankly at the screen, the words processing slower than paint drying on a wall. After a moment, he snapped to the realization. “Ye-Yeah! I got you the friends and family ticket to the combine, di’n’I?” The interesting young woman chuckled. “SFO to MCO, catching the last leg of the journey with you.” “Well, Dad and Mom refused, sayn eh, they still needed time.” “They’ll come around, I’m sure.” “Sure.”
Sunday. Last day of skills challenges and last day of meetings. Light poured through a gap in the hotel curtains and slashed across the white sheets on the bed. JC pulled the sheet from over his head and nuzzled into neck floof, inhaling the fading scent of an intoxicating perfume. He gave a firm squeeze and rolled toward the bed side table, where a digital clock proclaimed its interpretation of the time.
JC drew a deep sigh, pulled the covers to one side, and slid his toes into flip flops that had been carelessly tossed bedside the evening before.
"Going away so soon?"
"Never," Golde said in the sort of soft, deep voice people only get first thing in the morning. "unless you say I can."
"Okay, but there's a toll."
"And what might that be, love?"
"Come here." The golden-haired basketball weasel chuckled and knelt over the bed. Her soft lips greeted his and brought back the warm butterflies JC felt in his stomach the night before. They held themselves like that for what seemed to be an eternity, but could have been measured in seconds.
"A fair price to pay, I figure," the native Scotsman reflected. "Breakfast now, and I might still find an open court to warm up on if I'm lucky."
His bed mate, Autumn, rolled over to face JC and pulled the sheets up around her face. "Good luck sweetie. I'll come down and meet you after today's skills challenge."
"I look forward to it," He turned and his green eye glinted from the sun beams in the room. "I'll look for you in the crowd."
23:38, 15 September 2017 (EDT)23:38, 15 September 2017 (EDT)23:38, 15 September 2017 (EDT)23:38, 15 September 2017 (EDT)23:38, 15 September 2017 (EDT)~
With breakfast out of the way, Golde hunted for an outdoor court that wasn’t already packed with other FBA hopefuls. While he wasn’t avoiding people altogether, he wanted some alone time to focus on isolating motions, fundamental mechanics, and sharpening his best abilities.
JC plopped his duffle bag down once he found a court that suited him. It looked like there were two people there already, but appeared to have the same goals in mind. Golde pulled out a basketball he brought from home; orange and cream stripes and black piping. Two bluetooth earphones later, the Scottish weasel began his warm up with footwork, shooting, and pop music. After a couple of swishes, the ball bounced on the other side of the court, where another player was practicing as well, the last kind of player he wanted to find.
He was an eagle about four inches taller, yet much younger, donning a jersey with some cyrillic words on it. Clasping the ball with his talon, the avian locked sights with the weasel as he turned around to retrieve his ball. JC held up his hands, expecting the ball back and waited a moment, but seeing that the eagle still had his ball, he pulled an earbud out and slowly walked forward.
“Oy, thanks for catching my ball. You eh, gonna pass it back?” JC stopped half court, both blue and green eyes still locked with the avian. After a moment, the lettering on the other’s jersey clicked.
Without any other gesture but a cocky smirk, the eagle rushed towards the other side of the court, almost pushing the mustelid out of the way. With a flashy one-flap, the avian dunked the ball with ease, looking at JC condescendingly. “Suka…” he muttered.
JC frowned, never taking his eyes off the other, taking notice of the name on the back. “Smolov, yeah? Smolov the Molotov or whatever they say you’re called?” the weasel asked as he went to retrieve his ball back.
“Valeriy Smolov. Fucking learn it.” the eagle taunted, displaying his large wings. “Professional, Olympian, the best in all Russia.” he cocked his head. This made JC smirk and roll his eyes slightly.
“Okay, Valeriy Smolov,” he said with a Scottish sneer, “I guess you think you’re braw, eh? We’ll see.” With that, JC stuffed an ear bud back in and turned back to his solo work, thinking nothing of the cocky bird.
The avian pulled the earbud back, making the mustelid’s ear flicker. “Too scared to game?” Valeriy kept pressing. “Pussy”
“Rude,” JC protested, his face screwing up. “Too bird brained to ask for a game rather than assume I’d actually waste time with you?” He took a jump shot from just inside the arc, but the ball was snatched from mid air. The avian fell almost with a thud close to the weasel, causing JC to stumble to the ground as well, as if it was on purpose.
“Guess you a filler player, yes?” he glared down at the scotsman, who scowled back.
“Okay, you want a game, sure I’ll go for a game. I’m not about to put up with your shite,” JC growled, pulling his practice jacket off and tossing it to the sideline. Some other nearby draftees turned to see what was going on, ears perked and curious.
Valeriy still had JC’s ball, and dribbled away from the mustelid. “Be quicker.” That sparked a fire under JC, and the Scot sprinted over to cut off the eagle. His eyes bore into his opponent, staring him down.
“Try me, wanker.”
Valeriy leered at the weasel, fake throwing the ball at the weasel's face, making him flinch and go back, the avian opting for an alley-oop and an easy point. “Bitch...” the pronunciation of that word sounding too familiar to the first word the avian uttered to JC. Blood boiled beneath the Scotsman’s collar and he swore under his breath. JC was upset that this punk was talking big and pulling cheap moves to make him look like a buffoon.
JC stammered out a half baked retort, “"Where did you learn that one? From a pensioner?"
"EFBL and Olympics. I'm just better. Your move." the Russian baller sneered as he firmly passed the ball back to the weasel.
JC caught the ball and stalked his opponent, dribbling methodically. As the eagle approached, Golde’s eyes scanned Smolov as if evaluating every step, every muscle twitch. In a fluid movement that could have easily been lifted from a soccer pitch, JC looked one way, dove the other way, but sprang yet another way and figuratively shattered the bird’s ankles. It was all net from there for Golde as the avian tumbled.
A small group of bystanders had gathered by now, some curious, others in admiration. A comment from one of the other draftees drifted over the duo, “...Now there's two guys that can even show ME up!”
When the eagle recomposed himself, still on the ground, he took a quick false swipe with his sharp talons at JC’s shins. The weasel gasped and jumped back to avoid the talons, and while Golde was distracted, Valeriy swiped the ball before it bounced away, for an easy shot. Once JC recovered from the shock, his cheeks flashed hot and his vision narrowed.
“Wot was that mate? Taking a swipe at me?! I dare ya to try that again!” the weasel growled. He stepped up even closer, getting face to face with the perpetrator, fists clenched. “You’re due for a slugging, boyo.”
A couple of observers flinched at the situation, others calling out. Neither JC, nor Valeriy could hear the bystanders though, as 6’10” of eagle stared down at the Scotsman.
"Try me, da?" Smolov provoked, stepping chest to chest. The public knew how the situation could have evolved in, getting close and trying to separate both, the tension more dire as the eagle shoved the weasel.
Draft candidates began entering the court, cries of reason creating a din. JC stumbled back, but quickly rebounded back into the eagle’s face. “Still, cowards are a waste of my time and effort.” he said through clenched teeth. Rather than giving Smolov what he thought the eagle deserved, JC stepped back and spat at Smolov’s feet. JC’s ball rolled toward the weasel, and with a grunt of anger Golde juggled it onto one foot and punted the basketball through the underside of a nearby hoop.
“You the one flinchin’ and stepping back! Who coward?” Smolov called after JC.
JC stood watching his ball bounce lower and lower until it settled. “Up yours, bird shit,” he said, giving Valeriy the V sign. Golde turned on his heel and began to walk away.
Valeriy glared as he watched the weasel leave with the last word. Looking at his water bottle, the avian got an idea. Before JC could leave, he came up behind the weasel, opened the bottle and dumped the rest of his water on the weasel. The crowd gasped and murmured as JC trembled with rage. In a snap, the weasel spun around and slapped the water bottle away, nearly hitting a bystander. But before JC could do anything else, four burly FBA officials stepped between the two. "Motherf*cker!!" Golde shouted through the forest of event security now between him and the eagle.
The crowd split in two, each part coercing the eagle and the weasel opposite ways. Still dripping from the water, Golde grabbed up his bag and headed for the opposite gate. “Your tail is mine, beak face!”
"Want to see you try, Brit," Valeriy carried on, as he was being ushered out. While Valeriy thought he was out of the battle winning guns blazing, oblivious of the consequences, the JC’s mind raced after his bravado calmed down. What if this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and sent his career to the shitter before it even started?
He had to call Autumn fast.