[Wembley Way. Saturday May 19. 14:32 BST.]
Frank Whitlock was seventy-three years old and Margaret had been dead since November and she had bought the hat thirty years ago at the official stall outside the Royal Box end, and the hat was in the bag at his feet because he was going to put it on at five past five and not before.
His son David next to him in the queue. Forty-five. Born the year Palace went down for the first time. Had not been given a choice in the family.
In front of them was a man in a half-and-half scarf with his daughter on his shoulders. The daughter was perhaps four.
Frank had seen the dad at the 2016 Final in the same scarf with the same daughter who had then been a few months old, and the dad in 2016 had spent the last ten minutes of injury time at Wembley with his head turned so the baby could not see him crying.
Frank had been crying too. Margaret next to him with her hand on the back of his neck.
