The final whistle had barely faded when a small, efficient man in a blazer appeared at my elbow. He had a laminated lanyard around his neck and the brisk, pleasant manner of someone who had done this many times before.
The trophy presentation would take place in fifteen minutes. Centre circle. Could I ensure the squad were assembled and presentable?
I thanked him and looked out at the pitch. The squad were scattered in the loose, easy way of men who had just won a game some flat on their backs in the grass, some still jogging it out, some already on their phones before they had even left the field of play. I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled.
"Listen up," I said, when they had gathered around me. "Trophy presentation in fifteen minutes. Centre circle."
There was a beat of silence.
"A trophy?" Zaha said, his face entirely deadpan. "For this?"
"For this," I confirmed.
"We played two games," McArthur said.
"We did."
