The morning after the Scotland game, Alex woke up feeling like he had slept in a washing machine.
His ribs were bruised from the elbows. His shins were blue from the kicks. His kit from the night before was probably still wet.
But he was happy.
He walked into the recovery room at St George's Park. It was quiet.
Harry Kane was there, sitting on a foam roller. He looked tired.
"Morning, Captain," Alex said, stretching his stiff arms.
"Morning, Professor," Harry groaned. "How is the body?"
"Stable," Alex said. "But... loud. It is screaming at me."
Harry laughed. "That is tournament football. You play, you hurt, you sleep, you play again. It is a grinder."
Gareth, the manager, walked in. He looked fresh. He looked excited.
"Recovery today, lads," Gareth said. "Pool. Massage. Sleep. We need it."
"Who is next, boss?" Harry asked.
Gareth's smile faded a little. He pressed a button on the remote. The big screen on the wall lit up.
