"Ma...el! Ma'el!"
The team's right-back Sagna started to choreograph a dance, spinning around on the locker room table, shaking his shoulders energetically.
"Bam bam bam bam... I have a friend, he's driving a Pagani down the sideline, dancing the Swan Lake on the defensive line...!"
Indeed, black people have some dance talent, you have to admire that.
"Let's call it the Dance of Ma'el." Sagna twisted and laughed, lifting the locker room's atmosphere, shouting, "Count now, how many names' dances have I choreographed?"
"Do you only choreograph for front players?"
Center-back Vermaelen felt a bit left out, spread his hands with a smile and said, "What about us in the backfield? Aren't we worthy of having one?"
"How would you choreograph yours?"
Sagna stood on the table, thought for a moment, then started twisting and stomping his feet again, "Bam bam bam... He's been passed again, he's out of position again... Oh, look how clumsy they are!"
