The mood inside the Sterling Era Training Complex was darker than a coal mine. It had been forty eight hours since the heartbreak at Anfield. The last minute deflection that stole the points still played in the mind of Michael Sterling like a bad movie on repeat.
Michael sat in his office. The curtains were drawn. He was sitting in the dark staring at a blank wall.
Arthur Milton walked in. He did not knock. He was holding a box of donuts.
"Boss," Arthur said softly. "You have been sitting in the dark for two days. You look like a vampire. Please eat a donut. It has sprinkles."
"I do not want sprinkles Arthur," Michael said his voice hoarse. "I want the three points back. I want Diego Nunez leg to be three inches to the left."
"Diego is sad too," Arthur said sitting on the sofa. "He is currently in the gym lifting the heaviest weights I have ever seen. He says he is punishing his muscles for the deflection."
"It was bad luck," Michael sighed. "Just bad luck."
