All I wanted when I stepped up to the bar was a strong drink and a fat bag of ice. But Priest, with his square jaw and forearms for days just had to open his mouth, coming at me with the unsolicited play by play of my most recent humiliation. He's as rude as he is cocky. Steer clear of the grumpy coach? Not a problem. But when it looks like the youth center we adore won't make it another year, we need money. Big money. My team is left scrambling for a solution. The answer is clear. Drag the disgraced coach out of retirement to train us to win... and win big. Only, when I approach him, he can't get away fast enough. Too bad he doesn't want to help, because I'm not taking no for an answer. But it's not until I'm pinned against the wall, with coach Anaconda-In-His-Shorts gripping my jaw, forcing my face up to his... that I realize what this arrangement might really cost me.