With the tightening of his last piece of armour he walks out.
His cleats grip the world with his first footstep onto the pitch.
At once his nostrils flair, the smell of stale blood and earth stagnating around the ground sharpening his senses.

Eoesop H. Dank fears no-one.

Dank's ears hear the shrill of the whistle a heartbeat before the rest of the pitch and he reacts instantly, his words overshadowing every other sound "HOLD THE LINE".