In the Angus Hall, all eyes were on John Mara.
John Mara, what are you going to do?
John Mara didn't even give him the time of day.
He slowly lifted the glass of water he'd brought with him, took a sip, and then gently tapped his fingers on the tabletop.
Howard Payne's brow furrowed even deeper.
"Howard," John Mara finally said slowly, "I've seen all the data you mentioned. I'm aware of it all."
"But I still don't understand," he said, staring at Howard. "What does this have to do with the Giants? Have we broken any rules?"
Everyone in the room fell silent.
"You see," John Mara said with a smile, spreading his hands, "since the Giants haven't violated any regulations, then all this stuff you're talking about—people not watching other games, declining profits for the betting industry, sponsors reducing their investments, and so on."
He looked at the crowd and said, "It's all bullshit."
His attitude was crystal clear.
Go ahead and sue me if you have the guts.
