By midmorning of the following day, the Wigan training complex had regained its usual lively atmosphere as players moved into the complex from the parking lot, while the staff ensured that the facilities were ready for use.
The same couldn't be said about the sombre mood in the office of the man at the helm of the club.
Dawson's desk had disappeared under folders, and on the other side of it stood Nolan, flipping through a sheet that had already been marked up with three different pens.
He rubbed a hand down his face before dropping it back onto the pile.
"That's another one," he muttered.
Dawson didn't look up immediately.
"Who?"
"The kid we called up a month and a half ago to stand in for Leo," Nolan said, tapping the paper.
"Nothing serious yet, but that's the fourth this week."
Dawson leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
"Fourth," he repeated.
Nolan kept going, almost as if reading the list aloud might make it less irritating.
