McClean was already walking off the far side of the pitch, slow but steady, handing the captain's armband to Will Keane.
He passed by Leo, tapped his chest once, then held out his hand.
"Go show them," he said.
The high five cracked clean between them as Leo stepped forward.
One foot, then the other as the grasses rustled under his boots.
The ones Mia had painted.
The noise from the away end rose, trying to wish their still-unfamiliar youngster well.
"Game on" the commentator croaked as the restart began.
Leo hovered just ahead of the defensive line, not a spectator, but an axis.
He had only come on but the sweat trailing down his back would make you think otherwise.
Whatmough had the ball now, but there was no immediate pressing.
Just two Watford forwards loitering near the box.
Leo took two steps back, showed, and opened his stance.
"Whatmough!" he called. "Middle!"
