Juninho had just cleared off the line when Scholes picked up the ball 25 yards out and launched a breathtaking swerving shot that found the top right corner, leaving Schwarzer for dead.
Everywhere you looked, one of them seemed to be staring at nothing, drinking it in, transfixed: a dead stalk of dock weed or the blank corner of a stone wall or an icicle dribbled from the lip of a gutter.
