I went in and the tap was running.
Somebody had turned it on to fill a bottle and left it, and it was the only thing making a noise in that room, and above us the whole thing was going, muffled, like a party 2 doors down.
I walked the length of that room and turned it off.
Then it was 30 men breathing, and a strip light, and the noise of a stadium coming through 4 feet of concrete like weather in another county.
Wilfried Zaha sat under his peg with his shirt over his head. Aaron Wan-Bissaka was on the floor with his back against the wall and his legs straight out in front of him. James McArthur had his boots off and was looking at his own feet, and he is 30 years old and he had just run further than any man on that pitch.
Christian Benteke was flat on the physio bed with Rebecca's hands in the top of his leg and his eyes shut.
Steam off all of them. The room smelled of wet grass and wintergreen and 29 degrees.
