Another year, another beginning of season press conference. Kurbis was getting tired of all these questions. And for what? To feed the media machine? To keep the clicks coming in? To keep the entertainment industrial complex rolling? There were never any questions of substance anymore, it was all this or that and if I get retweeted by Shazam Hefner, blah blah blah. Kurbis was sick of it. But at the same time, didn’t he contribute to it? Or rather, was this what he signed up for when he went pro in the biggest Simulation Football League out there? It definitely hadn’t been on his mind as one of the consequences, he just loved football. His attention snapped back to the conference, one of the reporters was asking him what he did over the offseason. He hadn’t done anything particularly exciting, except take a long roadtrip from Yellowknife south to Calgary, and then eventually up to his log cabin on the edge of Banff National Forest. But he knew what came after innocuous questions such as these. Questions about his shape, would he be back to his rookie form, why had he fallen off so much. He dreaded it, but at the same time, he had no one to blame but himself.
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