Sunday, October 30, 2022

Gewiss Stadium, Bergamo

Full Time

The whistle's final sound cut through the stadium and the noise that followed wasn't an explosion but an exhale, and the Gewiss Stadium crowd released breath they'd been holding while Atalanta's players raised their arms briefly toward the stands without running or jumping on each other.

The second half was in everyone's legs.

Demien stood near the center circle with his hands on his hips while his chest rose and fell, and watching from the bench had drained him differently than playing but the tension had been real because every Inter attack had threatened the lead.

He turned toward the center and began the handshake routine—Koopmeiners first with a quick clasp and nod, then De Roon who tapped his shoulder once, then Lookman who was already in his tracksuit.

When he reached Musso, the goalkeeper's gloves were still on and sweat covered his face, and Demien nodded once while their hands met briefly.

Inter's players filed past in the opposite direction with heads down and shoulders carrying weight, and most exchanges were quick—handshakes, mumbled words, immediate separation.

Bolu Marino appeared in the line wearing his substitute's bib, and he moved slower than his teammates while his eyes scanned the pitch, and when he reached Demien he paused for two seconds longer than necessary.

His hand extended while his eyes searched for contact, and the pause created a gap in the flow of players moving past each other.

Demien's hand met his because the routine was automatic, but his eyes had already moved past Bolu toward the tunnel, and the handshake completed without their gazes meeting.

Demien was walking away before Bolu's hand fully released.

Bolu stood still for three seconds while players moved around him, and his jaw worked side to side while his hand dropped to his side, and his eyes stayed on Demien's back until the number 28 disappeared into the crowd of players heading toward the tunnel.

***

The camera cut wide from pitch level to the elevated broadcast position, and both teams were filing toward the tunnel in separate lines while stadium staff moved onto the field.

Then the shot shifted to the VIP section.

Gareth Southgate rose from his seat with his coat already zipped, and his face showed nothing while he moved toward the aisle, and an FA staff member stepped aside to let him pass.

Commentary

"And we should note," the lead commentator said, "England manager Gareth Southgate was in attendance tonight."

A pause followed while the camera held on Southgate descending the steps.

"No official comment on his scouting purposes, but his presence at a match featuring several young talents is worth noting."

The camera showed Southgate reaching the bottom of the steps where another FA staff member was waiting, and the two men spoke briefly—their mouths moved but no sound carried—and Southgate's hand gestured once toward the pitch before both turned and walked toward the exit corridor.

Three seconds later they disappeared from view.

The broadcast cut back to the pitch.

Neither commentator added anything further.

***

Atalanta Dressing Room

Inside Atalanta's dressing room the atmosphere was quiet, and players moved through post-match routines—boots coming off, ice packs distributed, jerseys dropped into laundry bins.

Music stayed off.

Conversations happened in low voices between pairs rather than across the room, and the energy felt like relief after difficulty rather than joy after dominance.

Demien sat at his locker unlacing his boots while his legs felt heavy, and his mind replayed moments from both halves—the buildup to the first goal, the finish on the second, the timing of the third, then watching Inter's comeback from the bench.

Gasperini waited until everyone was seated, and he stood in the center with his arms crossed while his eyes scanned once.

"First half," Gasperini began. "We controlled space. We forced mistakes. We exploited the gaps their system created and we executed the game plan exactly as designed."

He paused.

"Second half. Control slipped. We sat deeper than instructed. We invited pressure instead of managing possession. The margin almost disappeared because we stopped doing what worked and started protecting what we had."

His face stayed neutral.

"This wasn't a perfect night. It was a good one. The difference matters. Perfect nights happen rarely. Good nights happen when you execute well for sixty minutes and survive the final thirty through discipline and experience."

He looked around once more.

"Three points earned. Job done. But understand that teams better than Inter will punish the same mistakes harder if we make them again."

Gasperini walked slowly past several lockers toward the exit, and when he reached Demien's spot he paused and nodded once.

"Well done," he said.

Then he continued walking and the door closed behind him.

The room shifted after his departure—conversations resumed at normal volume, players stood to shower, laughter came from one corner where Lookman was talking.

A defender spoke up while pulling on a clean shirt.

"Nearly gave everyone a heart attack in the second half. My grandmother probably had to change the channel."

Scattered chuckles followed.

Koopmeiners shook his head while wrapping ice around his ankle.

"Should've killed the game earlier. Three-nil up, we sit back like we're defending one-nil. Makes no sense."

De Roon replied without looking up from his phone.

"Easy to say now. Try making that decision in the seventy-fifth minute when you've been running for ninety."

The conversation continued while Demien listened without participating, and he felt the weight now—physical exhaustion in his legs, mental fatigue from sixty minutes of constant decisions, emotional drain from watching the final half hour unable to affect anything.

The blue interface materialized in his peripheral vision.

「MISSION COMPLETE」

「OBJECTIVE: Make Opponent DM (Bolu Marino) Feel Hopeless」

「STATUS: ACCOMPLISHED」

「REWARD: 100 SP」

「Current Balance: 40 TP | 102 SP | 179 MP」

The notification appeared and disappeared after five seconds—just confirmation that the objective had been met and the reward applied.

Demien dismissed it with a thought.

A knock came at the door, and a media staff member poked his head inside.

"Demien Walter?" he called. "Man of the Match interview. They're ready for you."

Demien stood while his legs protested, and he grabbed a clean Atalanta jacket from his locker and pulled it on before walking toward the door while teammates offered acknowledgments—Højlund's fist bump, Hateboer's shoulder pat, Mæhle's nod.

***

Pitch Side - Post-Match Interview

The interview area was set up near the tunnel with a backdrop displaying sponsor logos, and the interviewer stood holding a microphone while a camera operator positioned himself three feet away.

The interviewer was a woman in her thirties wearing professional attire, and she smiled as Demien approached.

"Demien Walter, congratulations on the victory and on being named Man of the Match," she began once the camera operator gave a thumbs up. "Dominant first half performance from you and the team. Can you talk us through how the game plan worked so effectively in those opening forty-five minutes?"

Demien's breathing had settled during the walk.

"The team executed perfectly," he said. "We identified the spaces Inter's system was leaving open and we exploited them through quick circulation and intelligent movement. Credit to everyone for following the tactical instructions."

"Two goals and an assist in the first half," she continued. "At what point did you feel the match was under control?"

"Never completely. Three-nil is a good lead but it's not safe, especially against a team as good as Inter. The second half showed that—we made it harder than necessary by sitting too deep."

"The second half did see Inter mount a significant comeback. From the bench, how did that feel watching your teammates defend the lead?"

"Difficult. When you're on the pitch you can affect things. On the bench you just have to trust that everyone will execute. The team showed character by holding on when the pressure built."

The interviewer paused briefly.

"There's been attention this week on matters off the pitch," she said carefully. "Does any of that affect your preparation or performance?"

Demien's expression didn't change.

"My focus is always on football. What happens off the pitch stays off the pitch. Tonight was about beating a very good Inter team at home and earning three points. That's what matters."

The interviewer nodded and moved on.

"Looking ahead, Atalanta sit third in the table now. How important is maintaining this momentum?"

"Very important. Every match in Serie A is difficult. We've had a good run but we can't relax. The team that stays consistent over the full season is the team that achieves their goals."

"Thank you, Demien. Congratulations again on the performance."

"Thank you."

The camera operator lowered his equipment, and Demien nodded once before turning to walk back toward the tunnel.

***

As Demien headed back inside, movement near the players' area caught his attention.

Sophia stood with her arms folded near the barrier that separated the pitch from spectator areas, and when their eyes met she smiled.

He walked over and she stepped forward, and their hug was brief—his arms wrapped around her and she pressed close for three seconds before they separated.

"First half was incredible," Sophia said quietly. "Second half was torture."

Demien smiled despite his exhaustion.

"I felt it too. From the bench it's worse because you can't do anything."

"You did enough. Two goals. Completely controlled their midfielder. That's more than enough."

They talked for another minute about when she'd leave to drive back to Milan and when they'd see each other next, and then Demien excused himself because the team bus would be leaving soon.

Their goodbye was simple—another hug, a brief kiss, a promise to call later—and she walked toward the exit while he headed back inside.

***

Later - Team Bus

The bus pulled away from the Gewiss Stadium at quarter past eleven with most of the squad settled into their seats, and the interior was quiet except for scattered conversations and the engine's hum as the driver navigated through Bergamo's empty streets.

Demien sat near the back with his headphones in though no music played, and his phone screen showed clips from the match already circulating—his second goal from multiple angles, the assist in slow motion, tactical breakdowns showing how Atalanta had exploited Inter's shape.

He scrolled past them without watching because he'd lived the match already, and outside the window Bergamo's lights passed by in familiar patterns.

Somewhere else—in London or Manchester or wherever Gareth Southgate had traveled after leaving the stadium—decisions were being weighed about squad selections and player evaluations and who deserved opportunities.

Demien knew he was part of that conversation now.

The knowledge sat in his chest without demanding acknowledgment, and he leaned his head against the window while the bus continued through the night and his eyes stayed open watching the city pass by.

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