He dropped the ball.
Literally.
As the crowd rushed onto the field, cheering wildly, not a single person wore his colors; he was buffeted in all directions by shoulders of green and pom-poms in gold; game over. Game lost. Well done, Faramir.
The half of the stadium that remained in the bleachers were either on their feet, faces red and glaring, mouths wide in angry shouting, or collapsed on the bench, rows of heads bowed in disappointment.
He didn't bother looking at the bench.
Dad was livid.
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