July 15th, 2017
The two days between our arrival and the first match were a strange cocktail of jet-lag recovery, light training sessions, and corporate glad-handing.
The players had their city tour, a carefully managed affair that produced a thousand Instagram posts of them looking awkwardly at temples and smiling politely at Mr. Tan.
We had the reception dinner, a stilted event where I made a short, boring speech and the players tried to avoid spilling anything on the pristine white tablecloths.
But beneath the surface of the sponsored pleasantries, the real work was happening. It was happening in the video analysis room, in the gym, and on the training pitch at Geylang. And it was happening in a quiet conversation I had with Andros Townsend on the morning of the match.
I had called him to my hotel room, a suite with a view so spectacular it felt like we were floating in the sky. He walked in looking wary, like a man who was expecting bad news. I got straight to the point.
