Harbinger Of Glory

Vittoria yanked the blanket halfway off him, letting the sunlight splatter across his face, literally.

”Aren’t you going in for recovery or something?” she asked as she settled beside Leo’s frame on the bed.

The latter’s response was a sound rather than words, his head moving slightly into the pillow.

”I have a free day,” he mumbled as Vittoria backed off but then pressed on.

”So what are you doing?”

”Sleep mostly!”

”And then what?”

He shrugged, the gesture mostly lost under the duvet, before mouthing, ”Nothing,” a second later.

”Nothing,” Vittoria repeated, like the word had personally offended her.

She left him alone for about four minutes, which she considered generous, and then came back and sat on the edge of the bed.

”Do you do anything,” she said, ”aside from football?”

Leo didn’t answer.

”Leo.”

But still nothing.

On the third mention of his name, he surfaced eventually, deciding to stop resisting his girlfriend’s incessant questioning since he knew how persistent she could be.

”A good morning would have been nice,” he said, eyes still mostly closed.

”It’s the afternoon.”

”That too would have been nice.”

Vittoria shook her head and settled cross-legged on the bed, clearly deciding that this conversation was happening whether Leo wanted it to or not.

She got him talking eventually, pulling the answers out of him piece by piece.

Training. Recovery sessions. Sleep. More training.

Occasionally Mia or Sofia or both.

Occasionally Jake and Ezra, and now Carlo, though that usually involved food more than any actual plans.

Then it was back to training again.

She listened without interrupting, letting the pattern build until the shape of his life became impossible to miss.

And as it did, something in her expression changed, something close to a sigh expressed on her face.

”Your life is genuinely empty,” she said as Leo nodded.

”You’re the one filling it currently,” Leo said, with the satisfied expression of a man who believed he had said something that deserved a reaction, at least a sweet one.

What he got instead was a smack on his shoulder as Vittoria leaned closer.

”Stop flirting. I’m being serious.” She straightened up. ”Hobbies. Tell me one hobby.”

”I have the—”

”If you say the PlayStation, I’m taking it with me when I leave.”

Leo closed his mouth as Vittoria sighed and looked at him with the expression of someone facing down a genuine project.

”I’m going to find you some hobbies,” she said.

”You can do that,” Leo said. ”But right now I need to rest.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but she’d only said so much when he reached out, caught her wrist and pulled towards him.

She went down against him with a small huff of surrender, and after a moment of token resistance she relaxed into it, going quiet, her back against his chest and his arm around her as the apartment settled into a serene stillness.

.....

Some distance away, in the room at the Italian Football Federation’s headquarters in Rome, it was conversant to say the least.

3 people sat together, but the room was filled with the particular tension of an organisation trying to rebuild something after it had publicly fallen apart.

The men sat around the table with papers spread between them and their conversation circling the same subject it had been circling for the better part of an hour, which was the upcoming international window and what needed to come from it.

”We have missed two World Cups in a row,” the man leading the discussion said, not for the first time, though the repetition felt necessary rather than redundant.

”Mancini is gone, and this federation cannot afford a third miss. Whoever we select now needs to be players who are ready to fight for the shirt, not players who are simply available.”

”We also need to start by making sure we qualify for the upcoming Euros.

That could be the start for our once great nation because nothing is guaranteed for us anymore if we can lose to North Macedonia in our quest to make it to the World Cup, no offence to them!”

He looked at the table, eyes going around before bringing it back to the papers on the table and then pointing at them.

”Talent isn’t enough anymore,” he continued.

”We need hunger. We need players who understand what representing this country actually costs.”

He let that settle and then turned toward the man sitting slightly to his left.

Marco Piatelli had been Italy’s U21 coach for the better part of the time before Luciano Spalletti, newly appointed after Mancini’s departure, had asked him to step up as assistant.

He’d rejected the offer at first, but after some convincing from Thomasso, his father petitioned by Spalletti, he picked up the baton.

”There’s something I wanted to raise,” he said as Spalletti looked at him.

”Go ahead.”

At that, Marco smiled, a smile that said many words, but of all those words, one Spalletti could recognise was gratitude.

Gratitude for being given the stage to talk.

After keeping the duo with him in suspense, Marco opened his mouth.

”Do you by any chance know who Leo Calderon is?”

...

Leo had the bags in one hand and Vittoria’s hand in the other when the squeal came from somewhere behind them.

”Oh my god, is that—”

He turned, half expecting it to be for him, which was the assumption he’d gotten comfortable with over the past few weeks, but it wasn’t.

Six girls, somewhere between fourteen and sixteen, had already closed half the distance across the car park with their phones out.

”You’re Vittoria, right? Vittoria D’Averna?”

Vittoria blinked and then recovered immediately.

”I am,” she said, smiling as the girl in front went somewhat rigid with excitement.

”Can I get a picture? You’re so pretty. What are you doing in Wigan even?8 I follow you on everything. My friend showed me your page like a year ago, and I’ve just—” she stopped herself.

”Sorry. Picture?”

”Of course,” Vittoria said with a smile as she leaned forward.

The photo took ten seconds, all while Leo did his best to get out of the view, knowing the girls could post it or it could spread.

After the picture, the girl then looked at Leo, like she wanted to remember where she’d seen him, but after a few seconds, she shook her head, which was getting clouded before walking away, thanking Vittoria four times in the process.

Leo stood there holding the groceries as Vittoria turned back to him, laughing, still slightly stunned.

”I genuinely didn’t think my reach went this far.”

Leo said nothing for a second.

Then he set the bags down on the boot and folded his arms.

”I don’t think a single soul in this town who isn’t Wigan has come up to me like that,” he said.

Vittoria raised an eyebrow. ”Are you sulking?”

”I have a repertoire to match yours,” Leo said jokingly.

”Three man of the match awards. A goal in every game.”

”Well, I guess you should start working harder then. Keep up,” Vittoria said, patting his cheek once, and turned to get into the car.

Leo opened his mouth to argue the point further and then stopped, looking down at the boot.

He counted the bags.

Then he looked back toward the entrance of the shop.

”We left the eggs,” he said. ”And the bread.”

Vittoria, already in her seat, looked at him through the open door.

”Go on then, champ,” she said.

”At least you’ll get recognised now.”

”Funny,” Leo said, pointing slightly at her as he began moving back towards Mart.