For a full ten seconds, the universe seemed to hold its breath.
The Apex stadium, which had been a cauldron of noise, fell into a state of collective, open-mouthed disbelief.
Players from both teams just stood there, staring at the referee, then at the bewildered David Kerrigan, then back at the referee, as if trying to solve a complex math problem.
Ethan was right there with them.
He felt like his brain had been unplugged and plugged back in too quickly.
He had gone from a commanding 11 vs 10 advantage to a chaotic 10 vs 10 scramble in the time it takes to tie a shoelace.
On the pitch, Grant Hanley was the first to recover.
He stomped over to the shell-shocked Kerrigan, who was still pleading his innocence to the stone-faced referee.
"What did you say to him?" Hanley demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
"Nothing!" Kerrigan insisted, his face a picture of wounded theatricality. "I just asked him if he needed directions to the nearest opticians!"
