By the time his afternoon came to an end, Jack Grealish’s mouth was open and his eyes were scrunched. He was panting like a marathon runner, every step he took to the sideline told you his legs were screaming in agony.
As he passed David Moyes, though, he got a pat on his back – and then came the smile. The kind of smile, when you have been in Grealish’s company, that immediately endears him to you; it’s full of mischief, it tells you he knows how to enjoy himself and it’s always there when his mood his good.