I’m Padraig O’Callaghan from Cork, boyee, but don’t call me Paddy. Jaysus, I feel like I’m at some group anonymous session. I fecked up my life, got busted for using a banned substance in rugby, and now I’ve been excused from both my provincial club and the Irish International team. Right before World Cup selection. Feck. My agent convinced me to play for a small American club until things settle down. So here I am in Michigan with a half-arse team and a physical therapist with some wacky treatments. Like she plays music while we train, has us do yoga every week, and her stinky salves? Don’t get me started. Gillian Sommersby is a bit of an odd bird. And she doesn’t give a shite that I don’t want her help. Something deeper is compelling our Miss Sommersby, and it’s not her daft ratty shoes she wears every day either. So how has this strange wan captured my interest more than my beloved rugby?