"I want two more things before you disappear into match prep," she said.
"Elena, the semi-final is tomorrow."
"I know. That's why I need these now. Ten minutes. Total."
She walked me to the first-team pitch. Beckenham was quiet. The afternoon session was over. The players were in recovery or heading home. The pitches were empty, the January light fading, the grass striped and clean, Terry's work visible in every perfect line.
Tomás set the camera low, angled upward, the training ground stretching behind me through the frame. No music. No narration. No set dressing. Just the question and the answer.
Elena: "Danny. You have a four-year contract at Crystal Palace. What do you want to achieve?"
"I'd like to win a trophy."
Elena: "One trophy in four years?"
"One trophy. A cup. A real, tangible, holdable trophy that the fans can see and the players can lift and the club can put in a cabinet that has been empty for too long."
