Voices echoed low and clipped in the tunnel, mostly bits of instruction, radio static and footsteps quick over concrete.
A steward hurried past with a clipboard in hand, muttering into a headset as one of the broadcast technicians crouched by the wall, adjusting something beneath a monitor.
His colleague waved a hand urgently at someone in production, calling for help as they adjusted the equipment on the Officials.
The tunnel wasn't chaos, not quite — but it was charged, like a machine waiting to hum to life.
"Alright, clear the middle," someone called out from the far end.
"We're two minutes off."
Boots shuffled.
Then came the rhythm of something heavier — the stomp of studs.
Arsenal and Liverpool players filed in, calm but focused, lining up shoulder to shoulder on either side of the tunnel.
The moment had crystallised; no more warmups, no more noise except what filtered in from above.
A wall of sound was waiting.
