Post-Match Ice Down

Full-time blew, three points secured, and the roar finally faded from the stands. I stepped off the pitch and made my way back into the changing room, climbing up onto the raised physio treatment table. A thick rolled white towel gave me a solid backrest, right next to a heavy stainless steel flask sweating with cold condensation. I eased my back against the firm terry cloth, slipped off my right boot, and propped my heel against the icy metal base to cool down the joint. Ninety minutes of controlling the tempo takes pure work, but disciplined recovery is why I never drop standards. Job done.