After the final whistle, after the booing and brawling had subsided, as Arsenal’s giddy players jigged and danced their way over to their supporters in the corner, Yves Bissouma stood alone in the Tottenham half watching them. Watching with longing, and envy, and perhaps even a certain curiosity. Joy? Pleasure? Celebration? What are these strange new things?
By that stage, of course, Bissouma’s teammates had long since retired to the warmth of the dressing room. They did not want to be there any longer, and nor did the Tottenham fans who were already slogging down the High Road in…
