"To be, or not to be fast," Mark declared. "That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of slow defenders, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and run past them."
Alex sat in his seat, rubbing his temples.
"Mark," Alex said. "Please sit down. The bus is moving."
"I am practicing my oratory skills!" Mark shouted. "I am the Cicero of Speed! The Demosthenes of Dribbling!"
"You are the Mark of Madness," Rico laughed from the back. "Sit down before you fall."
Mark sat down. He peeled the banana.
"So," Mark said, chewing. "New format. Champions League. Swiss Model. What does that mean? Do we get chocolate?"
"No chocolate," Alex said. "It means one big league table. Eight games. Different opponents. No groups."
"Sounds complicated," Mark said. "I prefer groups. Groups are like little families. This sounds like a giant party where you don't know anyone."
