The Friuli Stadium was already rumbling before the teams even emerged. The crisp Italian night air carried the smell of fresh-cut grass, the sort that made Thiago think of childhood kickabouts back in Brazil — except this was nothing like those lazy afternoons. This was the Europa League, away in Udine, and every single seat in the stadium seemed filled with white and black stripes.
Thiago sat on the bench, zipped up in his black Borussia Dortmund jacket, watching the starting eleven line up in the tunnel. He wasn't nervous — not exactly. The energy was there, though, that twitchy feeling in the legs, the way you start bouncing your knees without realising.
Klopp stood a few feet away, hands buried in his coat pockets, eyes fixed on the tunnel entrance. The man looked like he could sprint onto the pitch himself if needed.
