“We’re starting in ten! Look alive!” he shouted. It was true, the team did seem dead. Our fly-half was actually sleeping, on his side, at midfield. Larson, our eight-man, trotted by and kicked him in the small of the back. Without a flicker of interest, Coach Q looked up from his director’s chair and then back down at his copy of Men’s Health.
oh no more than half way through the book and NOW i have to learn about rugby
