Chapter 920 - 920: Spurs

5 minutes later Rebecca was at my shoulder with her tablet. "Mateo. His sprints are down a third since the hour. Now, before he pulls something."

I sent Højbjerg on. Kovačić came off and sat down next to Sakho and did not take his eyes off the pitch.

"Last 15! LAST 15, LADS!" Sarah, both hands up with the fingers spread.

Tottenham won a free kick on the edge of our box. Bray was off the bench before the whistle had finished, shouting the wall into place with 5 fingers up, and Michael Steele was on his feet next to him shouting at Pope.

"Your side, Nick! He goes your side!"

Eriksen stood over it for a long time. Then he curled it over the wall, dipping, to Pope's side, and Pope was already moving. He went up and clawed it down out of the top corner with Kane landing on him. The ball ran loose along the line. Pope got 1 hand out from under Kane and dragged it into his chest.

"GOAL! It's over! IT'S OVER!" Kane was up on his knees pointing at the line, and the whole end under the arch with him.

The referee looked at his watch. It did not buzz. He waved play on.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

Pochettino was out of his area with both arms up at the 4th official. The 4th official pointed him back.

"Push out! PUSH OUT!" Tarkowski, hoarse, limping, waving his line up.

With 5 minutes left JJ drifted back out to the left wing. Aaron followed. For the first time since half time JJ turned and went straight at him.

The ball on his left foot. Aaron 3 yards off. JJ's sole came down and the ball stopped under it, and the noise in Wembley stopped with it.

Aaron did not move.

JJ did not move.

2 seconds.

JJ went, and Aaron went at the same moment and took it off his toe.

Tk.

"AARONNNNN!"

Sarah grabbed my arm with both hands.

"Dion," she said. "That's Dion's."

Aaron played it to Eze. Eze turned and ran at the Spurs half with nobody in front of him. Lamela came across and Eze went past him. Alli came across and pulled him down by the shirt 22 yards out, dead centre.

Prrp.

Yellow for Alli. The away end was screaming at the referee. Our end had gone quiet, row by row, watching Eze pick the ball up.

Benteke came over to take it off him. Eze held on to it, and Benteke looked at him, and let go.

Bray was at the front of the technical area with 1 hand cupped round his mouth.

"OVER THE END! OVER THE TALL MAN!"

The clock said 88. Lloris built his wall. Kane stood on the end of it, the tallest man in it.

"HARRY! LEFT! 1 YARD LEFT!" Lloris, on his toes on his line. Eze put the ball down and took 4 steps back and 2 to the left, and looked at the top corner over Kane's head.

I did not breathe. He hit it.

It went over Kane's head and started coming down. Lloris had leaned to his right before Eze's foot touched the ball, and he had to come back, and it dropped behind his glove into the top corner.

Fwip.

3-2.

"GLAD ALL OVER! GLAD ALL OVER! GLAD ALL OVER!"

"GET IN! GET IN, EBERE!"

Our 3 sides poured down towards the front. For the first time all night Eze ran. He ran the length of the Holmesdale end with his mouth open, screaming, and our whole team ran after him and could not catch him.

Bray had sat down on the bench with his iPad on his knees and his face in his hands.

"EZE! EZE! EZE!"

The Spurs end stood with its arms folded.

"How long? HOW LONG, REF?"

The board went up for 4. Bray was already at my shoulder.

"They'll send Lloris up. 7 in the box for every corner, and Christian's out on his feet." He looked at the bench. "Mamadou."

Sakho was already stripped. I sent him on for Benteke.

"Alderweireld!" Bray shouted at his back as he ran on. "You're on Alderweireld!"

Sakho put a thumb up over his shoulder without turning round.

In the 94th minute Hugo Lloris ran the length of the pitch for a corner, and the Spurs end roared him every yard of the way. The ball came in to the near post, and Kane was there, and Tarkowski was on him before it was in the air, the way Bray had drawn it. Kane still got his head to it. Pope went up backwards and tipped it over with his fingertips and landed on his neck.

Lloris stayed up for the next one. It came in and Sakho headed it out of the box. It dropped to JJ on the edge of the D, and he hit it on the half volley with everything he had. Højbjerg threw himself in front of it. It smacked off his back and into the crowd, and Højbjerg lay on the grass face down with his fists clenched.

PRRRP. PRRRP.

Pochettino shook my hand. He did not hold it long.

"It is November," he said.

"I know."

"Nobody wins anything in November." He let go and turned away, and then he turned back. "Your right back on JJ everywhere, the whole second half." He shook his head. "Very brave. Or very stupid."

"We won."

"Tonight," Pochettino said, and went to his players.

He went to JJ first. JJ was sat in the centre circle with his knees up and his arms round them. Pochettino crouched and put a hand on the back of his head and talked to him for a long time, then pulled him up and went to the next one.

I went to JJ too. His face was wet and he was grinning.

"You put him on me," he said. "The whole half, gaffer."

"You were killing us."

"I know." He had Aaron's shirt in his hand already. I had not seen them swap. "1 goal, 1 assist, and I lost."

"That happens."

"The stop," he said. "Your new winger taught him that."

"Dion."

"Dion," JJ said again, and nodded. "You still stand like that. Hands in your coat. You stood like that at Moss Side Athletic every Sunday. I used to look for you."

"JJ! JJ, come on!" Kane, from the tunnel, with his arm up.

He went.

Eze was last off the pitch. He stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and turned round and looked up at the Spurs end, still full. Then at the Holmesdale end, still singing his name. Then he went in.

In our dressing room he sat down in his place by the wall and unlaced his boots very slowly. Neves came and stood in front of him with the match ball under his arm. He had taken it off the referee at the final whistle.

"For you. Man of the match."

Eze did not take it.

"Give it to Aaron," he said.

Aaron was on the bench in the corner with JJ's shirt across his knees. He had not said anything since the whistle. He looked up when Neves put the ball in his lap.

Rebecca came through with ice for Tarkowski's thigh and stopped in front of Aaron with her tablet.

"13 kilometres," she said. "Highest in the building."

Aaron nodded at the ball in his lap.

Bzzt.

MICHAEL COOKE. 19:52.

Dion watched it at his mum's. He says Aaron did not bite once all night.

I read it out. Aaron turned the ball over in his hands for a long time.

"Pitch 3," he said. "Tuesday. 10 o'clock. Tell him."

My phone went again at home at 11.

JJ. 23:02.

Southgate rang. Back at Wembley Thursday. England. Still waiting for my text.

Well done, I sent.

That is what you always say.

Then keep doing it, I wrote.

On Tuesday morning Aaron Wan-Bissaka was on pitch 3 at 10 o'clock with a bag of balls. Dion Asare was on the left touchline 30 yards away, and Gary Issott was at the fence with his mug, and none of the 3 of them looked up when I walked past.

At 6 o'clock that evening I was in the passenger seat of a silver Astra outside a house in Hampton with the engine off. 2 weeks to the day. Michael Cooke took his cap off and put it on the dashboard.

"What are you going to say?"

"What I saw," he said. "To his face. With his mother sat there."

The kitchen light was on. Somebody moved the curtain and let it fall back.

***

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