The silence lasted two seconds. Literally two seconds. Then the Holmesdale responded with a noise so ferocious, so defiant, so furiously determined that it felt like the old ground was going to physically lift off its foundations. "CRYSTAL PALACE! CRYSTAL PALACE! CRYSTAL PALACE!"
Not a song. Not a chant. A declaration of war. Twenty-five thousand people refusing to accept the equaliser, refusing to allow the momentum to shift, refusing to let Marseille believe even for a second that they were back in this match.
The effect on the players was visible. Dann, who had been walking back to the centre circle with the heavy tread of a man processing a goal conceded, suddenly straightened. His head came up.
His shoulders squared. He pointed at Tomkins and barked an instruction. Tomkins nodded. McArthur, whose legs should have been gone by this point, found another gear the gear that existed beyond exhaustion, beyond physical capability, in the place where willpower overrode biology.
