Connor
"What a bloody fucking disaster," Hamish shook his head as he paced the length of my living room. "All those months of therapy, family conselling and anger management all flushed down the toilet within seconds before my own very fucking eyes. I have never been more appalled, the first game I witness of my grandson and he's busy trying to kill his so called fiancee. Have you been lying to me all these months? You two look like enemies than lovers."
I sat on the couch with ice pack on my cheek. The game had been marvelous, dubbed one of the most intense games of the decade, Scotland had been victorius and even though I very much had a blue eye I was named Most Valued Player of the match. It was an honor I took very seriously and I wouldn't have been happier. The excitement, the news and the press felt like a blur.
The celebration in the locker rooms even better.
