The silence in the dressing room was suffocating. Jamie sat in the corner, face buried in his hands, body shaking with silent sobs. Big Dave sat beside him, hand on his shoulder. Baz stared at the floor. Kev nursed his bruised hand from punching the locker. JJ looked at me, eyes asking: What now?
I slumped onto the bench, head in my hands. I was ready to give up. Ready to accept defeat. Ready to let the dream die.
Then the system flickered to life. The holographic interface showed the brutal stats: possession 38%, passing accuracy 67%, shots on target 1. Player ratings were a sea of red 4s and 5s. The system was confirming what I already knew. I had got it spectacularly wrong.
I was about to close the interface when my eyes caught the player personality profiles. The profiles I'd built over the season. Baz: 'Brave. Honest. A leader.' Kev: 'Determined. A fighter. A winner.' Big Dave: 'Resilient. A rock. The heart of the team.'
