The dressing room was quiet.
Too quite. So quiet that you could hear the metaphorical pin drop.
Jerry sat hunched over, with his elbows on his knees. Sweat dripped from his hair, soaking the red kit that clung tightly to his skin. The halftime whistle still echoed in his ears, along with the roar of the Dortmund supporters celebrating their equalizer.
2-2.
After everything, they were level again.
Tom stood at the front of the room, arms folded. The players sat around him, some of them staring at the floor, while the others were wiping their faces with towels. Jester was leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed, chewing his lip. No one spoke. Or rather, no one dared to speak.
Then Tom exhaled and broke the silence.
"You're playing scared".
His voice wasn't loud but it cut through the air like a razor.
"You're not tired. You're not being outclassed. You're just being scared".
Jerry blinked.
