The morning of the Torino match, Leon woke up with a strange, new sense of clarity.
The world didn't just look the same; it felt different, like he was seeing it in a higher resolution.
He walked into the kitchen, where his mother was humming a tune, a clear sign that she was in a good mood. She had already prepared his pre-match breakfast of eggs, toast, and fruit.
"Buongiorno, my little tactical genius," she said, giving him a cheerful smile. "Are you going to tell your friends to pass the ball into the little net again today?"
Leon laughed, pouring himself a coffee. "That's the plan, Mom. But this other team, they are very good at putting a big wall in front of the little net."
"Ah," she said, nodding with the profound wisdom of someone who understood football on a deeply spiritual (and completely non-tactical) level.
"So you must tell your friends to pass the ball around the wall. It is simple, no?"
He grinned. "Exactly. You should be a coach."
