The match kept swinging from one end to the other when the guide walked over to Izan with a half-smile, half-challenge on his face.
"Do you want to get on?" he asked.
Izan was about to wave him off.
The players looked like they were enjoying themselves, and he didn't want to steal their spotlight.
But then he thought about it for a second.
He was already here.
Boots were in his bag.
And the way the players kept glancing at him between phases told him they were dying to see what would happen if he stepped onto the grass.
"Plus, I could get a little work out in," Izan muttered after a few moments before turning towards the guide.
"Why not," he said quietly and then turned toward the benches behind them.
The Association president had already settled comfortably on one of the seats, arms folded, clearly amused.
