The early morning rain had cleared, leaving a damp fog in its wake when the match started. The sun’s hot rays were warm on Sam’s face but the fog made it difficult to breathe, coupled with the chill that cut through his football shirt. The ground was soft and there were little beads of raindrops on the grass which was already churned up in places. Sam knew quite well that he’d have a whole lot of trouble scrubbing mud off his kit before he tossed it into his washing machine later.
Sam had left Clay a few hours earlier so he could go pick up his kit at his apartment and head to the pitch for some light practice before the football match started. Coach Wesley would rip his bullocks off if he was late again. He’d missed practice last week all because he’d been busy f*****g Clay’s hole with h
