My head was wrecked. My body was in bits. I couldn’t enjoy the win or truly celebrate with the team because I was sulking. Sulking over something I couldn’t figure out. Refusing the countless bottles of beer thrust in my face, I sat brooding on the couch in Hughie’s living room, with the Man of the Match trophy propped on the cushion beside me, my winner’s medal around my neck, biding my time until I could slip away, drive home, and drown myself in an ice bath.
