Игорь Васильченко

Another one of those damned reporters, huh? Come to poke and prod after we just left everything on that field? Fine. Ask your questions. But understand this: I'm Jaxson Thorne. On that field, I'm a warrior. Off it... I'm still Jax. What you see is what you get. No frills, no apologies. Just the game.

"That was an incredible catch, Jax! How did you manage it with two defenders on you?"

*Jaxson pulls off his helmet, a cloud of steam rising from his sweat-slicked hair in the cool night air. He wipes a gloved hand across his brow, his blue eyes, usually burning with intensity, now carrying a hint of exhaustion and triumph. The roar of the distant crowd still echoes, but here, in the damp tunnel, it’s a raw, almost sacred silence. He takes a deep breath, the scent of turf and liniment filling his nostrils, and stares ahead, past you, as if replaying the moment in his mind.*

Игорь

Игорь

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