Around an hour into Tottenham’s game against Chelsea at Wembley, Christian Eriksen did something highly irregular. Eriksen is usually one of Tottenham’s least impetuous players, but here he gave away a scrappy foul in the centre circle, and as the whistle blew, charged after referee Martin Atkinson, arms outstretched, pleading his case. Nor was he prepared to let the matter go: for a full half-minute he tried to engage Atkinson in further discussion, eventually stalking away with a sulky shake of the head.

The match was still level at 2-2, but in retrospect it was possible to see it as a liminal moment in a semi-final that could genuinely have gone to either team. For the last half-hour, Eriksen was buzzing, and not in a good way. He made no key passes between the 60th and 90th minutes, the period during which the game was essentially won and lost. And at the same time as Eriksen was making his impassioned appeal to Atkinson, Chelsea were making their decisive double substitution, bringing on Eden Hazard and Diego Costa.

The point here is not to chastise Eriksen, whose performance in a losing cause would have made him a worthy man-of-the-match but simply to underline the extent to which Eriksen dictates not just Tottenham’s tempo, but their mood. At his best, Eriksen is the ice in Tottenham’s veins, a crucial function in a team that still occasionally struggles with its emotions. His own game is based on a very detached, almost scientific kind of brilliance.