I can’t type the words. Sophie Downey’s stopwatch, started the moment the clock hit 90 minutes, is running on the desk next to me, but my fingers won’t move. I refuse to write a variation of “Arsenal are European champions” with time still on the clock because the thought of having to press that backspace key and delete it is too much. The editors will have to wait; I’ll start writing the intro paragraph when there’s one minute 30 seconds of the seven minutes of stoppage time to go, but gingerly, agonisingly – even that feels too soon.
I believe, I really do, but what if? And then I’m too busy sobbing into my hands to finish or press send. The narratives, there are so many narratives: Renée Slegers, the former academy player head coach with the retro Arsenal ring on her little finger who was made permanent manager only four months ago; Leah Williamson’s journey from being a mascot at a European Cup final to playing in one; Chloe Kelly’s salvaged season; Beth Mead’s emotional turmoil; Mariona Caldentey making it three in a row after winning the past two with the now vanquished Barcelona; Kim Alison Little. Where to start? Where to end?
