All Washed Up

As the man trudged out of the stadium, son walking briskly at his side, he started to feel guilt. Guilt that he'd never felt before. Guilt over what in all honesty was simply twenty-two men kicking a ball about on grass. Guilt over those tens of thousands baying for blood, metaphorically speaking. Guilt that he was letting down his late father. Giving up, just because times were tough. Giving up because it was all just getting monotonous. He remembered his words. Over and over in his head. "Without us, they are nothing. Without them, we are nothing. We need each other." The boy, sensing a change of mood, turned his head upward. "We did the right thing Dad. It's just no fun anymore," he said. Before the man could smile in consolation, they both turned back towards the stadium. An almighty groan emanated from the gladiators' cauldron, followed by a cacophony of boos. He quickly checked his phone to confirm what was already obvious. "Another ...