They came again before the half hour. Another corner, another ball hung on that near post. And again Da Costa found his man, and this time he did not just clear it, he went and hunted it, came off his mark and met it full and put it into the away end. [CRACK. "YEEEAAAHHH!"]
The one after that, Munir claimed clean, up above the lot of them, both gloves wrapped round it. And he did not simply catch it.
He held it over his head a half-second longer than the game needed, then was down and screaming, pointing, shoving the back four back into shape. His box, and he wanted them to know it.
["MU-NIR! MU-NIR!"]
The same men who had been counting his run-up an hour ago, saying his name now.
They had turned England's best weapon 3 times, and slowly, the way you never feel it happening while it happens, the match began to bend into the shape I wanted.
England had the ball and did not know what to do with it. Stones rolled it to Maguire. Maguire rolled it back.
