Frank Coughlan: Why Nidge and Keano prove that we really can punch above our weight
Last night he was back. If you looked carefully you could see a trace of a smile, just occasionally, pass across a face that comic-strip cliche would normally have set in a scowl.
It was a countenance I had been scrutinising all week. Those early uploads of him on the training pitch, a bit of jogging, a word with Martin, a giggle with Robbie.
Then the press conference which I watched in full. Then, rather sadly, pored over again. The potentially tetchy bits, anyway.