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... h minute.

The cross came from Dalot—deep, looping.

Nathan rose to meet it.

His timing was off, but he leapt anyway.

He twisted mid-air and craned his neck—

THUNK!!

The ball struck his forehead and veered, not toward goal but somewhere between Row Z and the moon.

The crowd groaned in unison.

"Bloody hell..." someone muttered behind the dugout.

Nathan landed and staggered a step, half-expecting applau ...

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