Benatia found me last.
My captain. The man who could not jump. The man I dropped for the biggest match of his life, who ran my back line for 90 minutes from a touchline in a bib and lost his voice for a team he was not playing in.
He came over slow, on the legs that cost him his place, and did not hug me. He took my hand and shook it once, hard, and held my eye, and behind him the team was still down on the turf.
"You were right. To leave me out. You were right, and I was angry, and you were right." He did not let go. "That is a hard thing for a captain to say. So I say it one time. You built this. These boys nobody wanted. You."
I have been given a lot in this game. I am not sure I have been given anything better than that, from that man, on that grass.
And I let myself stand still for a second and understand the size of it.
