In one of the post-match interviews, Kazuki Yamada sat before the cameras in the cramped press area beneath the stadium, his hair still damp from the shower and his tracksuit zipped to the collar.
He was twenty-eight, an attacking midfielder with years of big matches behind him and the heartbeat of Japan's midfield, and tonight he looked calm but tired, like a man who had given everything for ninety minutes and had little left over for anything else.
The interviewer smiled politely. "Congratulations on the win, Yamada-san. Another dominant performance from the team. But I have to ask, how is the team coping without Hiro Takahashi?"
Kazuki's expression did not change. "Hiro is a brilliant player," he said carefully. "He is one of the best in the world. But Japan isn't built around any one individual."
The interviewer pressed on. "Surely you feel his absence, though. He's the Golden Ball winner, the face of Japanese football."
