Keane: "It'll be En-Nesyri."
Everything in me stopped.
"He goes down as he strikes it," Keane said, flat, bored, the way a man reads out a shopping list. "Watch it back. He isn't falling over because he's emotional. He is on the floor before the ball is in the net. That's a muscle. I've done that one."
Nobody on that panel argued with him.
And in a breakfast room in Moscow, 20-odd men turned round at the same time and looked at the armchair by the window.
At a 20-year-old with his leg up on a stool and an ice wrap round the top of his thigh, who had not said a word since I walked in.
Youssef did not look at one of them.
He looked at me.
And I looked back at him.
And neither of us said anything at all, and on a television in the corner of the room Roy Keane carried on talking, and 8 seconds later he moved on to England's full-backs.
"And here is the bit nobody has said out loud all morning," Jones said, "so I'll say it. Danny Walsh is English."
