Connor
"Laddies!" Angus threw his arm over my shoulder and dragged me toward the center of the locker room. The boys all hushed down. Jerseys half-off. Sweat still dripping. Medals clinking around necks.
Coach Jaime stepped forward and pressed a cold bottle of golden champagne into my hands. "I think Connor has earned the honor," he said, grinning. "After that game? The very song that reminds us who we are. The air of the British around us and knowing we secured victory on their soil, it's only fitting that we sing 'The Rattlin' Bog'!"
The locker room erupted.
"Aye!"
"C'mon Connor!"
"Get on the bench, la!"
The entire team screamed as I let out a loud laugh, popping the champagne. Foam sprayed everywhere and the boys cheered louder. I climbed up onto the bench, champagne bottle in one hand, the other pointing at the ceiling.
"Alright, you daft bastards!" I shouted over the noise. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it proper!"
