aThe song came down the tunnel after us through the concrete, di-ma magh-rib, di-ma magh-rib, not letting up for a breath even with the pitch gone empty behind us.
I got them in, shut the door, gave them 3 seconds of it, then took it back off them.
"Sit. Water. Listen."
Bounou dropped onto the bench, his boy's initials biroed on his wrist tape. Benatia had a cut over his eye he had not noticed. Sofyan was grey already, chest going like a bellows on a forge, but when I looked at him he sat up and jutted his chin. Don't you dare, that chin said.
Rebecca crouched at him without waiting for me and looked up. Small shake of the head. Not yet. Getting there.
"We're the fitter team," I said. "Keep running at them. Do not sit on this, or we die on it." I dropped to a crouch in front of the lot of them. "One more thing. Modrić."
Heads came up.
