There is a specific kind of silence that follows a defeat. It's not the quiet of an empty stadium, or the peaceful stillness of a Sunday morning. It's a heavy, ringing silence. It sits in your ears and presses down on your chest, a physical weight that no amount of deep breathing can lift.
I had never felt it before. Not like this.
I had lost football matches. Of course, I had. I had lost at the Railway Arms, Sunday league defeats that stung for an hour and were forgotten over a pint at the bar.
I had lost at Moss Side Athletic, county league matches where the margins were thin and the lessons were sharp. I had lost in the U18 Premier League South back in February, a result that had taught me something about rotation and squad management that I carried with me every day. Losing was part of football. Losing was how you learned.
