The best news of the week did not come from the football pitch. It came from a landline telephone in a small house in Yorkshire.
Michael Sterling stood in his kitchen. He was holding the phone.
"I am home Michael," his mother said. Her voice was strong again. "The doctors kicked me out. They said I was arguing too much about the quality of the porridge."
Michael let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for three days.
"You are safe Mom," Michael said. "That is all that matters. Are you resting?"
"I am resting," she promised. "I am sitting in my chair. Your father is making tea. And I have the radio on. I am ready for the Tottenham game."
"We will win for you," Michael said.
"Just win," she said. "I do not care who it is for. Just do not let that Australian manager beat you. He smiles too much."
Michael laughed. He hung up the phone.
He looked at Sarah. She was sitting at the table eating a pickle. She was nine months pregnant. The baby was due any second.
