Here is a short, atmospheric story based on that premise. Twelve years ago, Lukas and his father watched every Žalgiris match shoulder to shoulder. His father, a former player with crooked fingers and a quiet smile, would whisper, “Žiūrėk, sūnau. See how he moves without the ball. That’s the real game.”

* “Mačiau, tėti.” (“I saw, Dad.”)

Then he closes the laptop. Outside, the snow has stopped. And for the first time in a year, he falls asleep smiling. I can write a comedy (a man hiding from his wife to watch the game), a thriller (a hacker interrupts the live stream), or a nostalgic family story. Just let me know.