"Of course, I don't mean to blame him for taking my chance. We still have to pray for our injured teammate."
"Alright." Ma'el high-fived him, waved his hand cheerfully toward Garrispeed on the sidelines, and extended five fingers.
Garrispeed understood, pretended to take out a wallet, flipped through it a few times, shook his head, and made a regrettable expression.
The two then exchanged a glance in mid-air, leaned back, and smiled, showing great tacit understanding.
As he walked back, Ma'el glanced at the soccer ball already placed in the center circle arc. Unless there was another throw-in or corner kick, this should be his prize.
With this, he would have three monthly bests, three commemorative balls, and nine individual match bests!
Quite an achievement.
Before returning to London, if he couldn't take home the championship medal, he would take all these as the first batch of souvenirs for the honor room.
"Beep! Beep! Beep——!"
