Chapter 143: After the Final Whistle
Saturday, 28 September, 2010
The dressing room felt like a tomb. The roar of the stadium even in defeat seemed distant, like it belonged to another world.
The air was thick with the smell of sweat, mud, and old energy drinks, so heavy it was almost hard to breathe.
The players sat slumped on the benches, heads buried in their hands, eyes locked on the floor.
No one said a word.
The final whistle still echoed in their minds a sharp, bitter sound that refused to fade. The silence in the room was louder than any jeers from the away fans.
Paul Pogba, still in his mud-streaked kit, stared blankly at a small crack in the wall, his jaw clenched tight. Across the room, Max Simons, the captain looked like he wanted to speak, to pull his team together, but the words wouldn't come. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him like a stone.
