Harbinger Of Glory

While the celebrations went on, Donnarumma remained on the ground for a moment.

He rolled onto his side, looked back at his goal and closed his eyes briefly.

He lay there for almost 15 seconds before he got up.

There was no need for anyone to tell him what had happened.

He collected the ball from the net and threw it toward the centre circle before raising one hand toward his teammates.

My mistake, he mouthed.

Leo, who had ended up on the grass after committing to the cutback that never came, pushed himself up and looked at the scoreboard.

ITALY 0-1 ENGLAND.

The Italian sections had gone noticeably quieter, but across from them, the noticeably smaller English supporters were still going.

Italy quickly tried to shake off the gloom with Barella clapping his hands and encouraging his mates.

”Come on!” he said and turned toward his teammates.

”Forget it. Come on. Reset.”

But it wasn’t as effective as he thought it would.

Leo jogged back into position, but his eyes stayed on the English players for another second.

They hadn’t really been up to par with the talent on show, but now, they were leading.

On the touchline, Spalletti squinted, folding his arms across his chest.

The camera’s in the stadium found him, but his face gave away nothing.

”Spalletti’s expression hasn’t changed,” the commentator observed.

The co-commentator laughed quietly.

”I’m not sure whether that’s calm or fury.”

”Probably a bit of both.”

The referee pointed toward the centre circle as Italy restarted, and for the remaining minutes of the half, they tried to force something back, but England defended with enough discipline to keep them away from any clear opening.

When the whistle finally came to end the half, the Italian players headed toward the tunnel looking like they were glad that it was over.

Spalletti followed at the back with Piatelli beside him.

”The front three aren’t getting into the game,” Spalletti said quietly, something Piatelli agreed with.

”Five of our six shots have come from midfield.”

”Scamacca’s struggling and the same goes with.”

”El Shaarawy too,” Piatelli added as Spalletti looked ahead at the players disappearing through the tunnel.

”Get Kean ready.”

Piatelli looked at him.

”And Regutti too for the start of the second half. I will inform the officials myself.”

At that, Piatelli nodded and peeled away toward the dressing room while Spalletti continued walking.

By the time he reached the door, his mind was already on the second half.

Up in the executive box, Vittoria remained in her seat.

Her hands rested together in her lap.

She looked calmer than she had been moments ago, but Aldo knew better.

He glanced sideways before putting it to his daughter.

”You’re annoyed.”

”I’m not.”

Vittoria finally looked at him and then gave up the act.

”That goal was ridiculous.”

Aldo smiled while nodding at his daughter’s comment.

”That’s one way of putting it.”

”They haven’t even been better than us.”

”And yet they’re winning.”

Aldo leaned back.

”That’s usually enough.”

Vittoria glanced at her father before switching to her mother, sitting on the other side, who had been watching the pitch with an almost suspiciously neutral expression.

”Who are you supporting?” Vittoria asked a second later.

”It’s two nations here that you have ties to, so who?”

Sienna turned toward her like Vittoria had asked a ridiculous question.

”Of course the better team. And also don’t forget, you have an English passport too.”

Vittoria stared at her while Aldo looked at Sienna too.

Sienna held the expression for about two seconds before it broke.

”I don’t like either of you.”

Vittoria laughed while Aldo looked at his wife.

”You’ve been waiting for England to score, haven’t you.”

Vittoria looked between them.

”She’s supporting England,” she said as her father nodded.

Sienna stood.

”I am leaving,” she said, trying to leave, but Aldo stopped her and laughed.

”Sit down, woman,” he added as Sienna tried to tug at his arms.

”No.”

”Come on.”

”I will go and watch the second half somewhere else.”

While her parents squabbled, Vittoria turned back toward the pitch, still smiling.

The argument behind her continued for a few more seconds, but she barely listened.

Her eyes were already searching for one player as the Italian substitutes began warming up below.

Inside the dressing room, Leo pulled the compression sleeves from his forearms and dropped them into the kit bin.

Carlo emerged beside him, rolling his shoulders.

”Doesn’t this shirt feel massive?”

Leo looked at him as the two exited the room before shaking his head while Carlo glanced over his shoulder.

”Yeah?” he said after Leo didn’t answer.

You’ll get used to it,” Leo said

”I hope so.”

”You scored on your debut. I think they’ll forgive you for shabby dressing or something.”

”I have a brand to keep up, mate,” Carlo said, emphasising the word at the end to troll Leo.

They joined the players heading back toward the tunnel where the noise grew louder with every step.

When they emerged into the Meazza, the English supporters were still singing.

There were far fewer of them, but they had somehow made themselves impossible to ignore.

Carlo looked toward the away section, and Leo did the same, though he shook his head a bit.

”Nothing beats the English for this.”

The players spread across the pitch a moment later as the slightly empty stands began to fill.

”Welcome back to the second half at San Siro,” the commentator said. ”Where England lead Italy by a goal to nil.”

”And there are two changes for Italy. Moise Kean replaces Scamacca, while Carlo Regutti comes on for Berardi on the right.”

The co-commentator glanced down at his notes.

”That’s an interesting one. Carlo doesn’t normally play there.”

”But he can deliver from that side.”

”He can. And considering Italy need a goal, having someone who can put a ball into the box from either foot gives Spalletti another option.”

Leo took his position in midfield, rubbed both hands over his face once, then looked up ahead, finding Kane standing over the ball at the circle.

The England captain looked completely relaxed.

A while later, the referee checked both halves, glanced toward his assistants, then raised the whistle.

A moment later, Kane touched the ball, and once more, the game was underway again.