Harbinger Of Glory

After the morning’s activity, Leo sat alone at the far end of the dining hall, his tray untouched for the most part, scrolling on his phone with a blank expression.

”Nothing good these days,” he muttered, but the noise around him seemed to have much to say, with cutlery scraping and conversations flowing from most seated tables.

Then came the heavy scrape of a chair.

Carlo dropped into the seat beside him with a groan that sounded like it came from his bones.

He rolled his head around his neck, muttering a long string of Italian curses before slumping forward with his elbows on the table.

Leo gave him a quick glance, just enough to acknowledge his presence, then looked back at his screen.

”Good morning,” Carlo said, but Leo just nodded, not sparing the energy to look at him.

”Whatever,” he said before pulling his phone out, joining Leo in the endless scroll of searching for good content.

Moments later, the empty seats around him began to fill one by one, first Udogie and Fornella, both moving like men who regretted every decision from the night before.

Udogie’s hoodie was halfway over his head while Fornella’s eyes were red and puffy.

Short greetings flew around as the two settled down.

Then, Ricci came next, yawning like he hadn’t slept at all, and finally Ruggeri dragged over a chair and dropped into it, half-spilling the orange juice in his hand.

”Never again,” Udogie muttered, rubbing his face.

”Every time you say that,” Ricci said, reaching for a roll, ”you’re out again the next night.”

”That’s because I forget how bad it is,” Udogie said.

”That girl last night was a freak with it, man. Lost her mind when I told her I play for Udinese, then I told her about my Tottenham move, and she went even crazier.”

Fornella gave him a dead stare.

”Yeah, maybe she was just crazy.”

Carlo chuckled, shaking his head.

”You should learn to handle your business better, my friend.”

Then, turning to Leo, he leaned forward.

”You should’ve come, man. The whole place was full of pretty Italian girls.”

Leo didn’t look up from his phone.

”You’re lucky the morning session got pushed back,” he said flatly.

”Plus, do you think your girlfriend would be happy hearing you say that?”

Carlo leaned back in his chair, stretching.

”That’s exactly why you should’ve come, and my girlfriend isn’t here right now”, he shot back.

”You need to live a little. Or what—” he paused, smirking, ”—you don’t like girls or something?”

That finally got Leo to look up.

Just a glance, slow, unimpressed, like he was weighing whether Carlo was worth the effort.

The latter grinned anyway, taking it as a small victory before he turned to nudge Udogie.

Eventually, Carlo and the others got up to grab coffee, dragging their chairs noisily across the floor as they went.

The next few days blurred into the usual cycle of national team camp.

Training, meals, and video room briefs.

In the morning sessions, the players stretched out across the field in scattered groups, chatting or yawning through the warm-ups while the coaches set up cones and poles.

Leo stuck close to the basics, clean touches, short passes, nothing flashy.

He ran his drills at the right tempo, never lazy but never trying to stand out too much either, for a coach whose philosophy he didn’t really know yet.

On the other hand, whenever head coach Enrico Baldini walked near, the atmosphere shifted.

Conversations thinned, touches grew sharper.

Leo would automatically tighten up, body stiff, eyes glued to the ball, running every exercise like it was being graded.

And maybe it was.

From the touchline, Baldini stood with his arms crossed, watching in silence and always next to him was Marco.

After one of the possession games, Baldini gave a short whistle and motioned for the players to grab water.

As they scattered, he turned slightly toward Marco.

”He’s good,” Baldini said, eyes still on Leo. ”But some of his basics... still need polish.”

Marco followed his gaze, watching Leo sip from his bottle at the edge of the group.

”He’s not showing everything,” he said simply. ”You should see him in a game first.”

Baldini exhaled through his nose, a small nod.

”And why is it that?”

”Have you looked at yourself in the mirror. Even I would be afraid to show too much in front of you for fear of being left out of a game. You look like a hunched bouncer.”

Baldini just looked at Marco, with his mouth slightly open, before shaking his head.

”You should thank nepotism,” he said, causing Marco to look back at him.

”I would have been sacked a while ago if that was the case,” he replied, and then that was all.

The two men went back to watching, quiet again.

The rest of the week rolled on in the same routine.

Drills, tactical sessions, stretches, and film study in the evenings.

Then came the night before the match.

The team sat in the meeting room, scattered across rows, some leaning forward, others half-asleep against the wall.

Baldini stood at the front, arms folded, going through the last bits of tactical reminders, press triggers, shape when losing possession, rest defence positioning.

When he finished, he looked up at the group.

”Tomorrow’s early,” he said.

”I want you all resting soon. No late-night calls, no games, no nonsense. You know how I am about—”

”Professionalism!” half the room answered in unison, mimicking the tone he used when he said that.

Baldini smirked faintly at them and then closed his folder, gave Marco a small nod, and walked out first, Marco following behind him as the players started talking and joking again, the serious atmosphere vanishing with the receding steps of Marco.

.....

An hour after their evening brief, Leo stood just outside the accommodation block, leaning against the railing, the night air still and cool.

On his phone screen, Mia’s grin filled the little box, her beaming smile lighting another smile on Leo’s face.

”I topped my grade, you know?” she said, slipping it into their conversation with a proud expression.

Leo’s eyebrows lifted.

”You did? Well, you were always a bit smarter than me,” he said, his grin matching hers.

”Keep that up, yeah? You conquer your books, I’ll conquer football.”

Mia gave a little laugh, her eyes darting off-screen like she was checking if someone was listening.

Then, leaning a little closer, she whispered, ”I don’t want much from your trip, but... a bag would do.”

Leo chuckled.

”A bag, huh?”

He rubbed his chin, pretending to think.

”Well, lucky for you, I already got something. Not saying what it is, though.”

Mia let out a delighted shriek that made Leo flinch and laugh at once, before she quickly shoved the phone toward someone beside her.

”Sofia wants to say hi,” she said, the sound muffled in the handover.

”Leo,” Sofia’s voice came, more composed, but clearly amused.

”Don’t spoil her too much. You know how she gets.”

Leo grinned.

”It’s my duty,” he said, mock-serious, tapping his chest like a soldier taking an oath.

Sofia sighed, laughing.

”It’s not. You’re just infatuated with your sister.”

He waved them both off with a smile.

”Alright, tell her I’ll call again after the game.”

”God bless, Leo.”

The call ended, and the night fell quiet again.

Leo pocketed his phone and took a deep breath before turning toward the accommodation entrance.

The lights inside gave off that warm, tired glow of a place that had been full all day.

As he made his way down the corridor, the noise of voices seeped out from his room, mostly Carlo’s.

Italian, rapid and animated.

It sounded like half an argument and half a conversation that got too loud.

Leo paused, listening for a second, though he didn’t get much and then pushed the door open.

Inside, Carlo stood on his bed, gesturing wildly as Udogie, Ricci, Ruggeri, and Fornella all sat around the room, all looking somewhere between entertained and exhausted.

The chatter cut for a moment when Leo entered, and Carlo turned toward him, his expression brightening.

”Leo!” he said, switching to English.

”Tell me something. Don’t you think I could have played in the World Cup just two weeks away had our senior team qualified?”

Leo blinked, still halfway in the doorway, unsure how he’d walked into this.

”I...” he started, about to nod, then hesitated and shook his head instead.

That tiny motion was enough to restart the debate.

”See!” Ricci exclaimed, pointing at him. ”He says no!”

But Carlo threw up his hands.

”That’s not the point!”

Fornella groaned, muttering something about logic while Ruggeri leaned back on his hands, laughing.

”You hired a lawyer into the debate but still lost.”

Leo thought, just exhaled and walked to his bed before flopping backwards onto the mattress, eyes half-closed.

The chatter kept going but Leo just let it roll over him.

He’d had enough noise and company for one day.