Sam Kerr waits. Maya Le Tissier waits. There is a throw-in to be taken and a Chelsea player down injured on the turf and everyone else is just sort of milling about trying to look busy. Le Tissier puts a hand on Kerr’s shoulder to let her know she’s there. Kerr shuffles her feet and feints both ways to let Le Tissier know she could disappear at any moment. But mostly, they wait.
And when you think about it, waiting is perhaps the defining sensation of this job. Waiting on the back row of the bus before it leaves. Waiting for the team meeting to begin. Waiting in hotel rooms and dressing rooms and airport departure lounges and passport control. Kerr is 29 years old, and has been around this sport long enough to know that the vast majority of the moments that make up her day do not matter. So she waits, priming and preparing herself for the handful of seconds that will define her.
