Shelford hadn’t simply been kicked in the balls by the French captain. He’d been spiked. At his feet there was a small puddle of blood. His thighs were stained red and caked with bits of fatty tissue. Worst of all, his scrotum had been torn open and one of his testicles had fallen out of the breach. It was dangling between his knees. The team physician came scurrying over. He told Shelford to pull up his trunks and meet him in one of the surgeries upstairs. To close Shelford’s wound, the doctor had to administer sixteen stitches. “They packed it all away and everything still works,” Shelford
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