Chapter 35: Vs Fiorentina (5)
It happened in an instant.
Patrick Dorgu hit the ground with a heavy thud, the kind that made you wince even from the stands. The collective gasp of the crowd was followed by a sharp whistle from the referee, slicing through the rising tension like a knife. But that whistle did nothing to stop what came next.
Baschirotto didn’t even hesitate. The big center-back stormed across the pitch like a freight train, eyes locked on Duncan, the Fiorentina midfielder who had gone in for the brutal tackle. Without saying a word, he shoved Duncan square in the chest. Hard. The Fiorentina player staggered back, throwing his arms up as if to protest, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything.
Banda was already there, screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes wide with a mixture of rage and panic. Then Berisha joined in too, his expression fierce, veins bulging in his neck as he shouted at the ref and the opposing players. What started as a scuffle quickly turned into a full-on confrontation.
["This is turning ugly!" the commentator shouted, voice rising in excitement. "Lecce’s players have lost their patience! That tackle was too much!"]
[His co-commentator added in a grim tone, "They’ve gone full Roman gladiator mode. This isn’t a football match anymore, it’s a declaration of war. Someone bring in the UN!"]
Fiorentina’s players weren’t going to stand idly by. Kayode came charging in to push Banda back. Mandragora got in Berisha’s face. Within seconds, both teams were at it, crowding around, pushing, shouting, some trying to play peacemaker, others clearly looking to escalate. From the stands, it looked more like a brawl outside a nightclub than anything resembling football.
The referee looked like a man trapped in a nightmare. His hands were up, trying to signal calm, but nobody was listening. He glanced at the fourth official with a helpless look, probably wishing he could disappear.
On the sideline, Alex Walker didn’t move.
His arms were crossed. His jaw was tight. His eyes were cold.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t bark instructions. He just watched it all unfold, silently. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t part of the tactical blueprint he’d drawn up. But emotionally? He understood. Every Lecce player who had run to Dorgu’s defense had done it for one reason, because they cared.