Championship Relay

I spotted a small silver whistle sitting silent near the center of the wooden coffee table, rolled flat inside an empty cardboard tape ring. A signal like that belongs out in the open, ready to call the next play. I hopped up onto the polished oak table surface, dug my boots in, and drove both shoulders straight into the heavy cardboard ring. With one steady shove, I rolled the ring back. I gripped the whistle's metal ring with both hands, hauled it upright against a tall coaster, and gave the polished chrome one firm tap with my knuckles. Loud or quiet, you keep the field ready for action.