The morning after the Newcastle victory, the Sterling Era Training Complex looked less like a professional football facility and more like a field hospital.
Michael walked into the physio room holding two cups of strong coffee.
Mateo was sitting on a treatment table holding an ice pack to his face. His left eye was completely swollen shut, turning a spectacular shade of purple.
He looked like a panda that had lost a boxing match.
"You look beautiful, Mateo," Michael said, handing the first coffee to the head physio.
Mateo grinned, which looked painful. "I stopped the goal, Boss. My face is fine. I have another one."
Michael laughed, but deep down, he was worried.
Next to Mateo, Shaun Higgins was asleep on a massage table. The Butcher was snoring so loudly the windows were vibrating. His legs were covered in bruises, souvenirs from his battle with the Swedish striker.
