Full-time and handshakes. A little Tears for Fears tinkles over the public address system. Beyond that … what, exactly? How to describe this swirling, velvety anti-noise? The sound of no gloves clapping? The sound of time physically disappearing down a vortex? The sound of no emotions?
It began with North London Forever and by the end we felt as though we had been in north London for ever: stuck on an endless loop of William Saliba passing to Jurriën Timber, of Virgil van Dijk pausing as he tried to bait a press that would never come. Long periods of this game were played at literal walking pace.
