This is it. This is our reward for 16 months that saw the world turned inside out.
Sixteen months that saw that most reliable of metronomes dictating our weekly routine stop entirely for three months, before returning in a weird fashion: no fans, masked coaches on the benches and echoes in what were once noisy revival tents made of brick and steel. Sixteen months during which we realized that the game really is the most important of the unimportant things in our lives.
We can do without it, sure. We proved that. But we are so much richer with it.