Harry Kane looked broken, already haunted. When he stopped to speak to reporters in the small hours of Sunday morning, the crush began on the other side of the barrier, TV cameramen pushing from the back, everybody wanting to see and hear.
Kane’s lips moved and there were words, completely monotone, but it was as if he was not there, it was not him. We were looking at a hollowed-out version of the England captain. Somewhere else in Al Bayt Stadium, the real Kane looked at the apparition, too. What was going on? What had just happened?
