His gloved hands moved just a fraction down the rope, his grip tightening, pulling. His body was nearly parallel to the ground, and every muscle screamed in its tautness, but he hadn’t felt this energized in weeks. On the other end of the rope, over the red flag tied in the center, burly county firemen were doing their best to bring down the reigning champions of Gleann’s Highland Games Tug-of-War. But there was no way Byrne wasn’t winning again this year. It had been a really tough, shitty week. He needed this. George crouched next to the line of Manhattan Rugby players, his hands on his knees, his head swiveling back and forth, barking orders. The firemen made a move, all heaving at once. The crowd erupted, their local guys a clear favorite to off the New York City intruders. There were three times as many onlookers as there were last year, and that pumped Byrne up even more. The firemen’s move didn’t work.
