Champions League, on the road

The whistle goes. For a moment, the stadium holds its breath — fifty thousand chests paused — and then exhales together. This is the second the photographer waits for, more than the goal itself. The decision wasn't taken when the ball crossed the line; it was taken in the eight seconds before, in the tilt of a shoulder, in the angle of a stride.

What follows is a story told over three games, four cities and one long winter.

"You don't shoot the moment. You shoot the moment before."

Placeholder body copy. When Sanity is connected, this becomes a Portable Text renderer with embedded images, video (Mux), pull-quotes and inline galleries.

Each story closes the same way: with the stewards. They are the last people on a pitch, and the first to read what it leaves behind.