He looks so sad.
I should be screaming with everyone else right now. I ran out onto the field and that's my brother over there in the green, the one with his helmet off and his hands in the air, leaping in circles with our cousin. We won!
But . . . that guy over there. The one who dropped his pass. The one we owe the game to, if I'm being honest. Bad luck to him. Most guys would be on the ground by now. Not him. He's got his head up and his shoulders back, he's not bending to us or to the pressure of disappointment. Strong, but somehow I can tell . . . he's miserable.
I can't quite cheer as loudly as my brother deserves.
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