Chapter 65: Vs AC Milan (6)
After that second goal, San Siro felt electric and weary at the same time. The Milan fans were roaring, faces lit by flares and hope, but somewhere in the shadows of the colossal stadium, Lecce’s bench burned with something far more desperate. Fire. Refusal. A belief born not from pride, but from defiance.
Alex Walker stood still, legs planted like steel, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Around him, coaches paced, substitutes buzzed with uncertainty, but he remained unmoved. He knew exactly what this moment called for. Not panic. Not caution.
It called for boldness.
He turned sharply toward his bench and shouted, voice slicing through the din like broken glass.
"Ramadani, out. Helgasson, you’re in. Gallo, off. Guilbert, get ready."
No one questioned it. Not tonight. Guilbert, the right fullback with a no-nonsense edge, nodded once and pulled on his vest, no hesitation. This was war now, and he was more than ready for the front lines.
Alex inhaled deeply, eyes fixed on the pitch like a tactician studying a battlefield. Then he spoke again, calm but commanding.
"We switch now to 4-2-3-1 hybrid. Press high. Fast transitions. Overload the midfield. No sitting back. We take the fight to them."
He pointed directly at Luca Ferretti.
"Luca, stay disciplined. You’re the pivot now. You connect us. You shield the back four and drive us forward."
He clenched his fist, then slammed it into his palm with the force of conviction.