The days after the Croatia game were a blur of noise and white shirts.
Alex walked into the team breakfast room. He was wearing his England tracksuit.
The room went quiet.
Then, Declan, the big midfielder from West Ham, stood up. He started to clap. Slow. Rhythmic.
"The Professor!" Declan shouted.
The whole team joined in. They were clapping. For him.
James, the Chelsea striker, was grinning. "You benched a legend, Alex. Luka Modric looked like he needed a map."
"I just... I just stood in his way," Alex mumbled, his face burning red. He grabbed a piece of toast and tried to hide.
Harry Kane sat down next to him. The captain looked serious, but his eyes were happy.
"Enjoy it, Alex," Harry said. "But not too much. One game does not make a summer."
"I know," Alex said. "I am stable."
"Good," Harry nodded. "Because Friday... Friday is different. Friday is Scotland."
Alex swallowed his toast. Scotland.
"Is it... is it like a derby?" Alex asked.
