The story then cuts away to me sitting on a couch in the PR office.
"Rowen!" my mother screeches. "I can't believe you wore that horrible cap on TV!"
My dad snickers. "You know I hate my hair, Mam."
"Your hair is your trademark!"
"No, it's Da's trademark. That's why I wear my beanie."
She rolls her eyes and stops talking so she can keep listening.
The reporter talks about our family and shows some old clips of my dad playing. There's even a couple of pictures of us in one of the European stadiums when I was a kid.
"Aw," my mom whispers. "I remember that day." She looks almost misty-eyed seeing my dad in his glory days, me a little bitty squirt.
And then the story shifts to present day and some of the interview I did yesterday.
"Mid-fielder," the reporter says to me.
"Yeah," I an
