Nadia was waiting in the lobby with a folder and the face she does.
Ping. The lift behind her. Somewhere off to the left a barman was putting bottles into a fridge one at a time, clink, clink, clink, and 20 feet beyond the glass doors that drum was still going.
"Press at 6. FIFA at 7 for the trophy thing, which you will hate, and I have told them 10 minutes." She fell into step with me. "The morning we landed in Russia, you could have had us at 750-1 for this tournament. This morning we are 4-1 for the final. France are 1-3."
"That is about right."
"The Sky panel picked France. All of them except Keane."
"Keane picked us?"
"Keane said France have not been in a proper fight yet and we have been in 5, and he would rather have the team that knows what the last 20 minutes feel like."
Roy Keane. Well.
