Lecce's third goal sent shockwaves through the San Siro. The equalizer had shattered the illusion of safety, breaking the dam of expectations and composure. Suddenly, both teams were throwing men forward, no longer hiding behind calculated strategies or compact defensive lines. The pitch turned into a bruising battlefield, every inch fought for like it was sacred ground. The once measured and cautious play of the first half had been abandoned. What replaced it was raw hunger, a wild desire to snatch all three points and walk away with the glory.
The crowd responded in kind, the atmosphere swelling to a fever pitch. It was no longer just noise. It was something primal, almost alive, like the stadium itself had been possessed by the game's madness. Fans roared, whistles pierced the air, and a wind of pure tension swept through the stands. Several major chances unfolded in a chaotic storm as the game spiraled into an all-out campaign of desperation, brilliance, and near misses.
