Narrator: In the world of professional football, the stakes are always high. But for the Snworb, the threats have never been more explosive. Tonight, we take you deep into the heart of the Joy Foundry, where an ordinary tap room hides a sinister secret. Beneath the surface of mud and turf, a plot is brewing — one that could bring everything crashing down.

This is Tough Breaks, and in this episode, the Pro Bowler didn't make his plays on the field...

~~~

Something felt off. No, something smelled off. A faint whiff of hops and yeast that didn't belong here. Not in the hall outside the locker room just before a game.

Draw Zelned wheeled and jogged to the central spiral staircase; the scent grew stronger with each step. The Joy Foundry's beer taps were legendary, pouring out ice-cold drafts to thirsty fans at every level of the stadium. The tap room was two levels down, encased in Lake Erie ice - and right next to the support pillars.

Entering the tap room, Draw's nose crinkled. Pipes and kegs lined the walls, giving the scene the look of the bowels of a living beast. The usual earthy aroma was tinged with a sharp, acrid odor. Draw moved cautiously. As he approached the kegs, he noticed something out of place - a thin wire, glinting in the low light, snaking its way around the base of the main keg. His heart skipped a beat.

He knelt down, examining the wire closely. It was connected to a bundle of red cylinders strapped to the keg. His football instincts kicked in, adrenaline surging as he realized what it was: a bomb, rigged to detonate when the taps reached maximum pressure... one minute before kickoff.

There was no time to get help. The pressure in the system was building. Draw's eyes darted around the room, landing on the row of polished beer taps that glimmered faintly. His breath hitched with a sudden, wild idea — a last-ditch effort, a desperate play he hadn't dared consider before.

The beer.

If he could relieve the pressure manually, the detonator wouldn't trip, and the stadium full of fans would be saved.

He darted to the nearest tap, the one marked "Lake Erie Sunset," and yanked the handle hard. A thick, golden stream of beer shot out, splashing into the metal drain below with a force that vibrated up through his arms. He leaned in, the cold liquid pouring into his mouth, gulping it down as fast as he could. The taste was bitter, the carbonation biting at his throat, but there was no time to savor it.

For a moment, he was just a man drinking to survive, the beer washing away the terror that clung to his insides like tar. The drink seemed endless, and yet, his efforts were nowhere near enough. The pressure gauge on the wall showed the level dropping, but too slowly. He needed to do more.

Draw stumbled to the next tap - labelled "Frog & The Hog" - and pulled it with even greater force. The beer hit him square in the face before he could angle himself to drink it, soaking his shirt and dripping into his eyes. He blinked it away, leaning into the stream with renewed desperation. His stomach churned, already full to bursting, but he pushed through, determined to drain the lines as much as possible.

Time seemed to stretch, each second a battle against his body's limits. Draw felt the tension in his gut, the liquid sloshing inside him, a leaden weight that threatened to buckle his knees. But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.

Next, he pulled a tap stamped "Tire Swing", the beer now a torrent that filled his mouth and lungs, every swallow a struggle. His breath came in ragged gasps between gulps, the room spinning as the alcohol took hold. The pressure gauge dipped lower, closer to safe, but still not low enough.

With a groan, he moved to the final tap - "Love You, Bye" - wrenching it open and drinking deeply, his vision blurring as he forced himself to keep going. The cold beer numbed his throat, his senses dulling under the onslaught. His hands shook as he held the tap, his mind a fog of drunken determination.

Finally, the needle on the pressure gauge ticked into the green. Draw staggered back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his body and mind sagging into stupor.

He had done it. He had averted the explosion, saved the Foundry, saved the fans. He had outplayed the saboteur and saved his team.

~~~

Draw Zelned lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor of the tap room, the world tilting at odd angles in his woozy vision. The once-spotless floor was now a swamp of spilled beer, and the taps dripped lazily, as if mocking his effort. His head pounded in sync with his heartbeat, each throb a reminder of the gallons he'd downed to save the stadium.

The door creaked open, and Lila Heathko stepped inside. She froze in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the scene—the puddles of beer, the overwhelming funk of hops, and the disheveled and soaked cornerback.

"Draw? What in the world happened here?" Lila asked, her voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Draw groaned, his hand feebly waving in the direction of the taps. "Bomb...pressure...had to...drink," he managed to mumble, his words slurred and barely coherent.

Lila walked over, carefully avoiding the beer puddles, and knelt beside him, examining the mess of wires and tubes. "Wait a minute, are you telling me you drank all this beer to stop a bomb?"

Draw nodded weakly, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. "Pressure was building...had to relieve it...no time to think."

Lila's face broke into a grin, and she chuckled, shaking her head. "But, why did you drink the beer? There's a pressure release valve right over there." She pointed to a large orange lever on the wall, just a few feet from the taps, conspicuously labeled "Pressure Release."

Draw stared at the lever, his eyes slowly widening in realization. "You mean...I could have just...?"

Lila couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. "Yep. That would've done the trick. No need to turn yourself into a human keg."

Draw let out a groan that was equal parts frustration and embarrassment. "Oh man...I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

Lila patted him on the shoulder, still grinning. "Don't worry, I'll keep it between us...mostly. But I have to say, this might be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen. Who knew the league's lowest-paid cornerback would go to such great lengths to protect the team?"

Draw tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "Yeah, well...maybe they'll give me a raise now?"

Lila stood up, offering him a hand. "Maybe. Or at least a really big glass of water."

Draw took her hand and slowly got to his feet, wobbling severely. "Thanks, Lila. Next time, I'll let you handle the explosives."

~~~

Narrator: In a game where the smallest mistake can lead to disaster, sometimes the simplest solutions slip through the cracks. Tonight, we witnessed one of the league's most dedicated - and perhaps underestimated - players go above and beyond, risking his dignity to save the day.

Draw Zelned may not have the highest salary, but when the pressure was on - literally - he didn't back down. Sure, he might have overlooked a certain big orange lever, but he poured everything he had into saving the day and didn't tap out when it mattered most.

This is Tough Breaks, where tonight we learned a lesson: heroics come in all forms, and sometimes they come with a bit of a hangover.

Advance Regress