Chapter 27: Haram Football
The morning sun bled through the grey clouds hanging low over Lecce’s training ground, casting a kind of rusty glow over everything. It wasn’t raining, not yet anyway, but there was a stillness in the air, a tension that mirrored the upcoming fixture against Fiorentina. The silence was broken only by the occasional clink of metal and the soft murmur of early morning conversations. Alex Walker stood in front of his squad, hands clasped behind his back, as he took in the sight of his players finishing up their warm-ups. The faint hum of cleats scraping against the gravel set a steady, rhythmic sound in the background.
He looked around at his team. Some of the boys still had groggy eyes as they shuffled in, barely awake, while others had already bounced on their feet, full of focus and eagerness. There was a mix of determination and nervous energy in the air, like the calm before the storm that was Fiorentina.
"Alright," Alex began, his voice sharp and commanding as he stepped forward. It cut through the quiet like a blade through paper. "I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Fiorentina? They’re good. Really fucking good. Their quality is, let’s be honest, miles ahead of where we are right now."
A few heads nodded in agreement, though some of the younger players stiffened at the brutal honesty. Alex knew that sometimes the truth hurt at first, but it was necessary. His eyes swept across the room until they found those of his captain, Baschirotto. The old pro still had that edge in him, even as the team was trying to find its own identity.
"But here’s the thing," Alex continued, locking eyes with Baschirotto as if daring him to disagree. "We don’t give a shit about quality gaps. Not this week, not on that pitch. Because we’re not going to try to play pretty football. No tiki-taka, no positional play. We’re going full Haram Ball."
At that moment, the entire locker room erupted into laughter. The tension broke for a moment and the boys began exchanging amused, almost incredulous looks.
"Coach said the forbidden word!" Dorgu grinned widely as he pointed dramatically at his teammates.
"You mean long balls Insha’Allah?" Ramadani chuckled, his voice mixing sarcasm with approval.
Alex let a small, satisfied smirk creep onto his face. "No, I mean blocks so low they belong in Mordor. I mean defending like your mother’s life depends on it. I mean tactical fouls, time-wasting, and counter-attacks like lightning striking outta nowhere."