The nostalgia hit Andrew Trimble hard, bruising his emotions, scratching his soul. It felt like an intrusion, this unexpected arrival of sporting remorse, a reminder of sunbright days and raucous evenings under the Ravenhill lights, when fans chanted his name and team-mates shared a togetherness only they could understand.
Before he knew it, the moment had lengthened into an hour or so.
His muddled thoughts centred around a promotional gig earlier that day where he’d...
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