Alex sat at a small wooden desk. The room was silent, except for the scratching of pens on paper and the ticking of a clock on the wall.
It was Tuesday morning. He was not at the Emirates Stadium. He was not at the training ground. He was in history class.
He was taking an exam on the Industrial Revolution.
Alex sighed. He looked at the question: "Explain the impact of the steam engine on transport."
His analyst brain wanted to write about pass completion rates and transition play. He forced himself to write about coal and trains.
He was seventeen years old. He was a Champions League winner. He was an England international.
And he still had to finish high school.
His phone, hidden deep in his pocket, buzzed.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
It buzzed again. And again.
The teacher, Mr. Henderson (no relation to the Liverpool captain), looked up over his glasses. He glared at the class.
Alex froze. He knew who it was. It was Mark.
