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We stood back up and went our separate ways.
The fans loved seeing me fight.
This fight I didn’t mind.
It was more for fun.
After all, Andy was my childhood best friend.
We lostby one goal but claimed something that resembled a moral victory because I had been in a fight.
I did the cliché interview for television after the game.
Standing near the now empty bench, a microphone in my face, being asked the same questions.
How did you play as a team tonight?
What do you think comes next for the SOLA Empire?
What do you tell your teammates before a game knowing you’re out of the playoffs?
Tell us about your fight…
I knew how to give interviews. Both good and bad.
Plus, the owners of the team loved to have my face plastered everywhere possible.
In fact, that was part of my gigantic contract they offered when I signed with the team.
I was the face of the team and I had to be that.
Again… through good and bad times.
Also, Oscar Verwert and his wife Ellen were in attendance at tonight’s game.
I wasn’t sure of their thoughts on me fighting, but it made the fans happy.
And that’s all that mattered to them.
People paying to get into the arena, then paying for everything from a bucket of popcorn to a foam finger.
I walked down the tunnel to the locker room.
When I opened the door, Rome saw me first.
He stood shirtless and dropped to his knees.
“Don’t hit me!” he cried out. “Please, Sebastian, don’t hit me!”
I shook my head.
“I thought for a minute you were going to start kissing him,” Joe said with a smirk.
“I almost took a nap during that fight,” Atlas threw out.
“I know Andy,” I said. “We grew up together.”
“Hard to throw a punch at your best friend?” Jago asked.
