Half-time. In the dressing room, the atmosphere was electric. I let them have their moment the back-slapping, the high-fives. Sakho was holding court in the corner, his laughter echoing off the tiles.
Zaha sat with ice on his ankle, a quiet satisfaction on his face. Rodríguez leaned against the wall, water bottle in hand, looking like a man who had done this a thousand times. Because he had.
Then I stepped into the middle of the room. Silence.
"Good half. But the game's not over. And we're about to change."
I walked to the tactical board Sarah had set up and moved three magnets.
"Hughes will come out with a different shape. Three at the back, wing-backs pushing high. He has to. He'll throw bodies forward." I looked around the room. "We are not going to keep pressing at the same intensity. We have Fenerbahçe in five days. I'm not burning you out on the first day of the season."
