Dispatch from an advertising future #62


He dialled the crowd up to 11 as his team swarmed up-field. He swung the view around to follow the forwards, swooping, hovering. The pass found the wing, past two defenders he hoisted a cross into the box, where… into the keeper’s arms. He reached for his beer with one hand and his controller with the other. He flicked the switch and reran the move. The same players streaming forward, the pass to the wing, the lofted cross… he moved number 6 into position. L1 + R1 + ◯… He wished there was a 12. He switched back. His defence scrambling back.