Welcome, then, to the age of asterisk. Whatever punishment Manchester City and their owners receive at the end of this process, the fact remains, everything is tainted now.
Overturn the tables, scatter the gold coins. Throw your medals in the bin. You cheated to win them. Whatever that thing was, it’s done. Stolen glory, stolen income, stolen joy. Every chant, every “we won the lot”, every awkward documentary scene about the deep, throbbing heart of this empire of love. It all looks odd, sinister, cold, sloppy, but also, and this is always the best response, utterly absurd.
