After the match against Sheffield Wednesday, Richard invited Dave Richards to his office for a quiet drink. He uncorked a bottle of fine wine for his guest and poured himself a glass of orange juice before they settled onto the sofa.
"Pre-season expectations feel naïve now," Dave Richards said. "Sheffield Wednesday want to make a name for themselves in the Premier League, but the reality is harsh. Commitment and discipline can only take you so far—team spirit can't hide a lack of quality forever."
He then took a sip of his wine, a heavy bitterness settling in his chest.
Richard nodded. Sheffield's performances so far had been deeply polarizing—impressive against stronger opponents, yet utterly incapable of capitalizing against weaker sides. Giant killers, people called them. But how long could a club survive on that label without ever becoming a giant themselves?
