"Had to switch it out," he said, no doubt in his mind he would need that jersey on the pitch. "No Vick's today."
Maund walks through the double-doors to the player's tunnel, his cleats clicking and clacking against the concrete. For most of his professional career, he used to walk through before the starters lined up side-by-side and took a seat on the bench. Some nights, he didn't walk out at all, instead sitting in an unmarked suite on the fourth floor.
For two-and-a-half seasons, Aaron Maund waited for his shot.
It came early last summer, and since, he hasn't loosened his grip.