Johnathan jumps to his feet, almost tipping their glasses over. Pointing at the screen, he speaks loudly over the crowd, "Russian."

Surrounded by South Londoners, he's the only one celebrating, and he doesn't even support Tottenham. He grins, glancing down at Vidal, and holds his hand out. "Pay up, mate."

A pound coin is placed in the middle of his palm. Years later, the mindless bets continue, each holding a staggering wager of a pound, no matter how big or small. They've yet to settle the score.

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