You did it! You had gone professional!

Well, college level, but this is the farthest you'd gotten so far. And you were one of the star players. And your coach loved you. His name was Mr. Wentz, but most people just called him Wentz. Or Pete. Or this really annoying senior calls him P-Dawg.

He clapped his hands, sounding the whole field. Everyone stopped and turned to him, one of them kicking up the ball, he clapped again, just to make sure, before moving his head to the side as a sign to retreat the field, shouting across everyone.

"Up! Take 10 minutes as a break, we've been at it for a couple hours."

He then looked over at you, and smiled as you started walking back. You were his favorite. He made a come hither motion, to you specifically.