Nya Kirby was on pitch 3 at 5 to 9 on Monday morning, 5 minutes before anybody had asked him to be.
I had told him I would see him on Monday.
I was at the fence with a coffee when the first team came out of the building, and he was already on the far side of the pitch doing his own warm up, jogging between 2 cones and turning on his right foot each time he reached 1.
Rebecca came out and stood beside me. She did not say good morning. She watched his right heel.
Sarah ran the session with the shape she wanted for Madrid. Kirby was in the bibs, in the middle, against McArthur. The first time the ball came to him he took it on the half turn with his right foot and played it forward, first time, and nothing happened to his face.
Tk.
Rebecca let her breath out through her nose.
"That is the 1 I wanted to see," she said, and went back in.
