The Forgotten Man

He looked up at the front line, where a defender was hesitating over whether to send the ball long. "Don't give it to him!" someone shouted from the stands. "He can't run anymore!" Another voice followed at once. "Broken Prince! Where's your crown?" Laughter rolled under the sheet-metal stands like low thunder. Mason did not turn around. He only raised his right hand and asked for the ball. The local broadcast commentator sounded lazy and faintly amused. "Eighty-seventh minute, and Carter still wants it. Ten years ago, he was the most expensive teenage prodigy in American soccer. Now he's chasing an equalizer for Riverbend Ironworks on a rainy night. Soccer can be cruel, can't it?"