I called Parish at two. He was in his office at Selhurst Park, the January deadline ticking, the usual circus of last-minute deals and loan agreements and panicked phone calls from agents playing out across the league while Crystal Palace sat quietly and did nothing.
"Danny. I've spoken to Dougie. No striker. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Blake is ready. The squad is deep enough. And the message matters, Steve. If we go into the market every time we lose a player, we're telling the academy that the pathway has a ceiling. That when it matters, when the pressure is real, we buy instead of trust. I won't send that message. Not to Blake. Not to Olise. Not to Kirby. Not to any of them."
Parish was quiet for a moment. Then: "I trust you. I've trusted you since the corridor. I'm not stopping now."
"While I have you," I said. "I need to talk about a bus."
"A bus?"
"Lorraine's bus. The supporters' bus from Peckham. The one that went viral."
