The "Sterling Judgement" was a line in the sand.
His first stop, the morning after the media frenzy, was the hospital.
The smell of antiseptic and stale flowers was still there, but the atmosphere in Arthur's room had changed. The panic was gone.
The Gaffer was sitting up in bed, his leg still in a complex metal brace, but his eyes were clear, sharp, and shining with a satisfied, almost smug, light.
He was watching a replay of Danny's 44th-minute volley on a small, wall-mounted TV, a faint smile on his lips.
"Gaffer," Michael said, walking in with a bag of fresh, non-hospital-grade coffee.
"Chairman," Arthur replied, his voice still a rasp, but a strong one.
"I see the 'dinosaurs' are officially extinct."
"You saw the game, then?" Michael asked, a wide, genuine grin on his face.
"Saw it?" Arthur scoffed, hitting mute on the TV.
