“Not only did we lose to the freaking
, but I couldn't even play,“ he said disappointedly. “I'd probably break something anyway. Everyone's already making fun of me. They think I'm frail.”
“Listen, mate, I don't know a lot about American football, but didn't you say NFL?” Danny nodded as the bartender poured him another drink. “You must make millions! Even if you're not playing.
Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now?”
Danny sighed and took a sip of his drink. This English bartender dude would never get the pressure of playing in the NFL.
“Maybe you should get yourself a girl, you know? To get over the loss.”
“I got a girl. Back in St. Louis. Well, if she still wants to be with a loser like me.” He downed his drink and got poured another. The bartender shook his head and went to serve someone else.
Danny looked around the pub. He would have loved to hook up with some random girl he never had to see again, but his conscience – and also the media – would have never allowed that.
Something like that would always come out.
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