Down in the Etihad’s bowels there lies a room. With capacity to hold 100 or so folk, it is about function not glamour. Every football ground has a variation of the same space, and after each match, a pair of contractually obligated managerial types enter via a side door flanked by a largely silent, usually suited, club employee.
Largely banal queries are then posed until said club employee decides enough is enough. Usually, the answers given are in equal measure predictable and bland. And so, it continues, match-after-match. No one really knows why. It just is.
