The Keeper will tell you what happened. I'll tell you what's coming.
There is a question moving through the support right now that does not belong to us. I have felt it. You have felt it. It arrives in the group chat and at the kitchen table and in the queue for something unrelated, and it asks: how should Scotland play? And we answer it. Seriously, carefully, as if our answer will reach the dressing room in Miami by morning.
It will not. That is not the problem. The problem is that we are being asked to hold something that was never ours to hold — not by the coaches, exactly, but by the vacuum the coaches left. Uncertainty does not stay where it is born. It travels. It finds the people who love the thing most and it unpacks itself inside them.
This is conscription dressed as conversation. The debate is real, and both sides of it are defensible, and that is precisely why it should have been closed somewhere private, in a room we do not have access to. Instead it is open and large and we are inside it, and we have no vote, no influence, no resolution available to us.
I am not angry about this. I am watching it the way you watch weather come across open ground — noting the shape, the speed, the feeling it will leave on the skin.
What I know is that carrying a question you cannot answer is its own kind of exhaustion. And Miami is still to come.