Chapter 29: The Calm Before The Storm
By the time Saturday rolled around, Lecce was humming with tension and anticipation. The streets were unusually quiet in the early morning, as if the entire city was collectively holding its breath. Fiorentina were coming. Not just a team, but a test. A real one. And though the mood around the club had lifted slightly after the dramatic win over Monza, nobody was under any illusions. Fiorentina were a different beast entirely.
Inside the training facility, everything was moving with quiet purpose. Staff moved equipment around with focused urgency, players arrived in clusters, and cameras from the media team clicked and rolled as they gathered footage for the club’s social platforms. The tension wasn’t spoken aloud, but it was there. Everyone felt it. Everyone knew.
And in the middle of it all sat Alex Walker, now dressed in a sharp black Lecce tracksuit, perched calmly behind a modest table inside the press room. The club’s crest was emblazoned on the backdrop behind him, shining under the harsh overhead lights. He looked composed, professional, but also a little distant, like his mind was already three steps ahead, thinking about passing lanes and pressing traps instead of press quotes and soundbites.
The room in front of him was full. Journalists filled every seat, some scribbling into notepads, others tapping away on laptops, and a few with phones held up to record video or audio. Familiar faces mostly. Local and national media all gathered here for a glimpse into the mind of Lecce’s new coach. The one who had won over the fans with grit and guts, and now stood on the verge of his first real Serie A trial by fire.
The press officer gave a quick nod, and the first hand shot up almost instantly.
Daniela Marchetti from Gazzetta dello Sport, poised and confident as always, spoke up first.
"Coach Walker, Vincenzo Italiano said yesterday that Fiorentina are the better side and expect to win comfortably against Lecce. Do you have a response to that?"
A small murmur rippled through the room. The type of question designed to stir the pot. Alex didn’t flinch. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, and smiled, but not in a way that invited mockery.
"Well," he began, his voice steady and calm, "I think it’s fair for any manager to back his team. I’d do the same. That being said, this is football. Matches aren’t won in interviews. They’re won on the pitch."
He let the silence hang for a second.
"If they think it’ll be comfortable, I guess we’ll see just how comfortable ninety minutes at the Via del Mare really is."