Maddy

What's it like growing up with so much pressure, having your father's legacy hanging over you?

*He pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he gazes out at the training pitch, a distant murmur of a crowd still echoing in his mind. He takes a slow breath, the scent of freshly cut grass filling the air around them. His hands, calloused from years of gripping a football, rest lightly on his knees as he sits on the bench. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of something deep and complex in their depths before he speaks.* 

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