I watched Warren nod, slowly, several times.

Then they shook hands — brief, civil — and Warren went out through the gates and Keegan came back to me.

I’ll be honest and admit that seeing them touch put a small cold pang through me.

It would be a lie to pretend it didn’t.

Fourteen years is a long time to be the only one, and letting even a handshake in cost me something.

The drive home was quiet, the championship trophy riding on the back seat between our gym bags.