First to arrive is a white transit van, its sides and back devoid of markings or identification, an anonymous shell. When the doors are opened, the inside is stacked with large heavy sports bags and netting sacks filled with footballs. On the passenger seat sits an old man, a fragility in his thin frame and sloping shoulders that the wrapping of his official blazer cannot hide. As the kit is unloaded, he remains in his seat, smiling widely.