“I want to help, but most of the players I know aren’t in…” I trailed off. There was one defender who was in town and uninjured—one very good defender who made Simon look like an amateur (no offense to Simon). No. My pride quashed the seed of possibility before it fully blossomed. There was no fucking way I’d ask him for help. I’d rather chop off my leg and serve it to him on a silver platter.
