Michael Sterling sat in the brand-new canteen of his £1.5 million training ground, a mug of tea in his hand, his eyes glued to the giant TV on the wall.
The TV screen was split into four boxes, showing four angry, suited pundits, all shouting over each other.
"It's the 'Battle of the Firsts'!" the host, a man with teeth too white to be real, was yelling. "It's the feel-good story of the decade! In the blue corner, Manchester City... first in the Premier League, the reigning, treble-winning, unstoppable champions of the world!"
The screen cut to a highlight of a slick, masterful goal.
"And in the red corner," the host continued, his voice full of fake, patronizing warmth, "Barnsley FC! First in League One! The giant-killers! The 'Lucky Mascots'! The 'Kids' who are this close to winning promotion to the Championship! Isn't that just... lovely?"
A grumpy-looking ex-player, who looked like he'd been sucking on a lemon, just snorted.
