He shakes his head, "You don't get it. Last game... We were right on the edge of winning. Eighty to fifty. But... I... I screwed up bad. Broke our full forward's leg, sprained my ankle... We never had a chance. They thrashed us."
Surprised, you ask how he managed it.
He just bursts into tears. Doesn't look like he's up for talking, right now.
As you move back to give the poor kid some space, a man in a cloak, with stars and all, walks up to and angrily grabs your wrist. He looks at you very seriously, "Could have done that worse. Tell you what... Let's have a do over."