The Forgotten Man

In the distance, he heard someone shout his name in the tone people used for a joke. He did not look over. The door shut. The grass at the Dallas training facility was so green it looked unreal, like another world. Red, white, and blue U.S. flags snapped in the wind. Dozens of cameras pointed toward the parking lot exit. Mason stepped out with his bag. Ryan Brooks was walking past a black sponsor SUV. He wore sunglasses, tall and clean-cut, with two assistants and a brand manager trailing behind him. A global superstar. The true face of American soccer. They crossed paths at the entrance. Brooks paused, took off his sunglasses, and looked at Mason's knee. "You actually came," he said. Mason nodded. "My name was on the list."