The hotel air conditioning hummed. It was a low and constant sound.
Alex sat in the lobby. He was looking at a tactics board.
Maya sat opposite him. She was drinking a glass of orange juice. She looked very serious.
"The United States," Maya said. "They are interesting. They do not play with rhythm. They play with energy. Kinetic energy."
"They run a lot," Alex said.
"Correct," Maya adjusted her glasses. "I checked the data. Tyler Adams runs twelve kilometers per game. McKennie runs eleven. They are like batteries that never run out."
"Batteries die eventually," Alex said.
"Not in ninety minutes," Maya warned. "They press high. They want to turn the game into a basketball match. Back and forth. Fast break. Transition."
"I hate basketball," Alex smiled. "The ball spends too much time in the air."
"Exactly," Maya said. "You need to keep it on the floor. Gravity is your friend."
The automatic doors of the hotel opened.
A man walked in.
