With 56 minutes gone, as the sky began to fade from powder blue to black, Emerson Royal pumped a hopeful pass into the empty air above the roof-lights, seeking out Harry Kane, who craned his neck, adjusting his feet, reading the arc.
At that point the game seemed to fall apart a little. For almost an hour this had been a close, stifling game. Just before half-time Liverpool had applied one of those periods of surge-football, where they seem to be playing out of the same red mist, winning the ball back repeatedly, forcing the Spurs players to sweat and puff and turn a little dizzy.
