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I mean, it’s probably programmed to pay out every so many goes, but even so, he’s won. My plan was always to only play as many games as it took for it to end on a draw, not just to create a ‘to be continued’ vibe ahead of the Grand Final, but also because it feels safer if there’s no real winner.

‘Okay, only a few questions left, so I want you to sit on that bench, side by side,’ I tell them. ‘Please.’

I tag that on to the end, because it feels weird ordering them around.

They’re in front of the old-fashioned arcade games, the colourful lights flickering behind them – it’s a cool shot. I stand just off-camera with my questions.

Jamie stretches his legs out in front of him. Eddy sits with his arms folded.

They look like they have been arranged specifically to contrast with each other, and yet this is all them. Jamie is loose and animated, a half-smile always waiting at the corner of his mouth. Eddy is still, controlled and almost intimidating. His amusement twinkles in his eyes, if you’re quick enough to spot it.

‘Ready?’ I ask.

‘Born ready,’ Jamie says.

Eddy sighs.

‘That’ll make a good opening,’ I tell them with a laugh. ‘Okay, so, you’ve played against each other a lot over the years. What is the first thing you remember about meeting?’

Jamie answers immediately. ‘He ignored me,’ he says.

‘I didn’t know you,’ Eddy says.

‘I introduced myself.’

‘You told me that you wanted to be like me when you grew up,’ Eddy reminds him.

‘How old were you?’ I ask Jamie.

‘Nineteen,’ he replies.

‘Yeah, so I was only twenty-five,’ Eddy reminds him.

‘Well, you’ve always seemed older to me,’ Jamie tells him, like it’s an explanation, although it seems like a thinly veiled insult.

‘What did you think of Jamie as a player?’ I ask Eddy.

‘Talented,’ he says begrudgingly. ‘But too cocky.’

‘He doesn’t like that I’m a genuine competitor to him,’ Jamie says. ‘I’ll be smashing his records long after he’s retired and there will be nothing he can do about it.’

‘See what I mean?’ Eddy says. ‘Cocky.’

‘And what did you think of Eddy?’ I ask Jamie.

‘I thought he was the one to beat,’ he replies. ‘When I came through, he was already the standard. If you played well against Leeds, people asked how you did against Hood. If you got past him or put a stop to him scoring, everyone talked about it.’

Eddy’s expression doesn’t change, but I can tell he isn’t entirely comfortable with the praise.

‘Is that why people call him the king of rugby league?’ I say.

Jamie looks at Eddy, then back at me.

‘That might be true. But I’m the prince,’ Jamie continues. ‘I’m literally Royle. And I’m coming for his crown.’

I can’t help but laugh.

Jamie looks straight at Eddy, no joking this time.