Alex walked into the training ground on Friday morning carrying a plastic dry-cleaning bag. He held it like it contained the Crown Jewels.
He was "Bastian early" again, seven forty-five. The giant German was already at his locker, reading a newspaper with a very serious expression.
"Morning, Bastian," Alex said, placing the bag gently on the bench.
"Professor," Bastian grunted. He peered over the top of his paper. "You are carrying that bag like it is a baby. What is in it? Your new suit? Or did Milo send you a cape?"
"No cape," Alex smiled. He unzipped the bottom of the bag and pulled the plastic up slightly.
Revealing the white, grass-stained Real Madrid jersey. Number 4. SERGIO.
Bastian lowered his paper completely. He stood up. He walked over.
The giant defender looked at the shirt. He reached out a hand, hesitating for a second, before touching the fabric.
