Alex sat in the locker room on Tuesday night. It was raining in London.
The Emirates Stadium was vibrating above them. The Champions League anthem was playing on the speakers in the hallway, a muffled, holy sound.
Arsenal led 2-0 from the first leg in Paris.
It should have felt safe. It should have felt comfortable.
But it felt like sitting in a dentist's waiting room before a root canal.
"They are going to come at us," Harry Kane said. He was taping his socks. He looked serious. "Mbappe is not happy. I saw him in the tunnel. He looks like he wants to eat someone."
"Let him try," Jude Bellingham said. Jude was sitting shirtless, looking like a statue carved out of confidence. "I am not edible. I am rock."
Mark was pacing. He was wearing his full kit, plus a pair of neon yellow wristbands.
"Why are you wearing wristbands, Speed?" Alex asked.
"Aerodynamics!" Mark said, waving his arms. "They cut the wind! Also, they glow in the dark. In case the lights go out."
