Picture it. The last notes of the national anthem fade. Seventy thousand people are still on their feet, buzzing, half-drunk on beer and adrenaline. Then every light in the stadium dies at once. Total dark. Total silence. The kind of hush that usually only falls over a Welsh valley at dawn.
Introduction A single spotlight snaps on, dead center of the star painted at midfield. Dust motes float in the beam like slow-motion snow. And there he is. No pyro. No…