The camera panned out as Izan and Piatelli stood on opposite halves of the field, each holding the other's jersey, each soaked in a different kind of legacy.
"To those here. And to those watching around the world. Thank you for being part of it. Good night from us at Mestalla,"
"And may the next one try to live up to this," Tyldesley added, one final beat.
"Good night."
......
The locker room smelled of sweat, eucalyptus gel, wet socks, and relief.
Boots clunked into plastic bins.
Tape was peeled off the shins.
Some players sat slouched on benches, shirts half-off, towels wrapped at the waist.
Others still had adrenaline in their systems, pacing short laps from locker to shower and back again.
Laughter floated up here and there—Rice and Saliba bickering over who lost their man on the second Valencia goal while Saka held out his phone, playing back a grainy clip of Izan's third from a fan's perspective, howling with laughter at the crowd reaction.
