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Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 378: The Calderon Paradox! · Oct 18, 2026

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Chapter List (629)

Page number / 13

351 Chapter 351: Reality Hits! 2026-10-18
352 Chapter 352: Something Uncomfortable! 2026-10-18
353 Chapter 353: Wrong Man To Press! 2026-10-18
354 Chapter 354 - 20 Minute War! 2026-10-18
355 Chapter 355: London’s Bridge Falls Down! 2026-10-18
356 Chapter 356: Half Time Across the country! 2026-10-18
357 Chapter 357: Second 45! 2026-10-18
358 Chapter 358: Down And Down! 2026-10-18
359 Chapter 359: A Goal For The Fallen 2026-10-18
360 Chapter 360: Unsettling! 2026-10-18
361 Chapter 361: Not A Fluke! 2026-10-18
362 Chapter 362: Aftermath Of The London Success! [GT - !] 2026-10-18
363 Chapter 363: Bad Decisions! 2026-10-18
364 Chapter 364: The Story Grows Legs! 2026-10-18
365 Chapter 365: Nothing Is Ever Enough! 2026-10-18
366 Chapter 366: A Boyhood Dream! 2026-10-18
367 Chapter 367: Girl And A Golf! 2026-10-18
368 Chapter 368: Playing House! 2026-10-18
369 Chapter 369: You’ll Be Alright Kid! 2026-10-18
370 Chapter 370: A Homecoming Eleven Years in the Making 2026-10-18
371 Chapter 371: Who Else! 2026-10-18
372 Chapter 372: Hammers’ Equalizer? 2026-10-18
373 Chapter 373: Rising Expectations! 2026-10-18
374 Chapter 374: A Tremor! 2026-10-18
375 Chapter 375: On Course! 2026-10-18
376 Chapter 376: Three From Three! 2026-10-18
377 Chapter 377: Do You Know Calderon? 2026-10-18
378 Chapter 378: The Calderon Paradox! 2026-10-18
379 Chapter 379: Back In Rome! 2026-10-18
380 Chapter 380: Back In Rome! [2] 2026-10-18
381 Chapter 381: A Welcome Protocol! 2026-10-18
382 Chapter 382: Eyes! 2026-10-18
383 Chapter 383: An Oldhead! 2026-10-18
384 Chapter 384: No Time To Waste! 2026-10-18
385 Chapter 385: A White Bib! 2026-10-18
386 Chapter 386: Under The Tricolore! 2026-10-18
387 Chapter 387: The New Italian Football! 2026-10-18
388 Chapter 388: Spalletti’s Lesson! 2026-10-18
389 Chapter 389: Nothing New! 2026-10-18
390 Chapter 390: European Qualifier! 2026-10-18
391 Chapter 391: Honeymoon Ends! 2026-10-18
392 Chapter 392: No Excuses! 2026-10-18
393 Chapter 393: A Necessary Shock! 2026-10-18
394 Chapter 394: Disrupting The Order! 2026-10-18
395 Chapter 395: Underway! 2026-10-18
396 Chapter 396: GO! 2026-10-18
397 Chapter 397: As Intended 2026-10-18
398 Chapter 398: A Reward For Their Football. 2026-10-18
399 Chapter 399: Finding The Target Man! 2026-10-18
400 Chapter 400: A Deadball Situation! 2026-10-18

Aside from the active nightlife, most of Rome was quiet at that hour.

Most of the federation building had long since emptied, its corridors dark and the day’s conversations and meetings reduced to little more than memory.

Only one office remained occupied.

The glow of a computer screen was the room’s only source of light, painting everything in shades of blue and grey.

It caught the sharp lines of Luciano Spalletti’s face as he leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the desk and eyes fixed on the footage playing in front of him.

In the next second, he paused the video and sat back for a moment.

Then he leaned forward again.

”What a player...”

On the monitor, Leo Calderon’s image sat frozen mid-turn, one foot planted and the ball tucked beneath the other as he prepared to evade a challenge.

It wasn’t the first clip, and it wasn’t even the hundredth.

For the better part of the evening until now, Spalletti had been working his way through every piece of footage he had been given and the ones he sought himself.

From Early Wigan appearances to slightly grainy tapes of youth matches that, most of the time, focused on other players, to some of the recent Italian Under-21 games and even the new Premier League season.

Basically, anything available.

At first he’d only intended to watch a few matches, but then a few had become several, and several had become an entire night.

He’d been lucky that Marco had already had someone compile all of Leo’s actions from his games into a single file, and the deeper he went, the more the problem revealed itself.

Not whether Leo was good enough, since that was unquestionable, but the problem was where exactly to put him.

After thinking for a while, Spalletti resumed the video, rewinding it back to performances involving Leo playing as a centreback for Marco back in his first game for the Italian U21 team against Japan.

And then to one of his most recent games against Chelsea in the Premier League where his impact had been undeniable.

Spalletti rubbed his forehead.

”Dawson...” he muttered, then a second later, ”And Marco.”

A small smile appeared as he thought of the two young coaches.

Both were smart enough to realise the same thing.

You couldn’t confine Leo to a position since that would limit him.

Instead, you had to build something different for him, and that was what could be the challenge if one were to get the most out of the player.

Because if Leo eventually arrived in the senior national team, the standard solution wasn’t going to work.

His eyes drifted toward the corner of the screen where he saw the time showing, 2:03 AM.

Spalletti stared at it for a moment and then sighed.

Any normal person would’ve gone home hours ago, but he had no intent to do so.

Instead, he reached for the folder beside him, which had been handed to him by Marco, showing the latter’s recommendations.

The next name sat beneath Leo’s.

Carlo Regutti.

Spalletti nodded slightly.

”I’ve heard of you.”

But he hadn’t heard enough.

The following morning, Marco Piatelli moved through the federation headquarters carrying a coffee in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

The building was alive again, with bits of conversations flowing out of the offices.

Several people greeted him as he passed, and he greeted them back, exchanging nods and brief words before reaching his office.

There he dropped his bag beside his desk, set down his coffee and then immediately turned around and headed back out.

There was somewhere else he wanted to be.

A few minutes later, he stopped outside Luciano Spalletti’s office, where the door was partially open.

Marco knocked lightly.

”Coach?”

”Come in,” a voice answered groggily.

Marco stepped inside and immediately paused.

The room smelled strongly of barley coffee.

His eyes moved toward Spalletti, who was still wearing the same blazer he’d been wearing yesterday.

His hair looked slightly worse, and his eyes looked considerably worse.

Marco folded his arms.

”I take it you didn’t go home.”

Spalletti looked up, smiling slightly.

”No.”

”I can see that.”

Spalletti pushed himself out of his chair and stretched his back as several joints protested immediately.

”How long?” Marco asked.

Spalletti glanced toward the ceiling.

”Not sure.”

”That’s not reassuring. As a 64-year-old man, you need all the sleep you can get. I can’t help but worry about what you’re going to do when things get serious if this is just the start!”

Spalletti chuckled a bit as he walked past Marco toward the window and grabbed the blind cord, which had sealed off from daylight.

One pull later, the blinds shot upward, and sunlight flooded in instantly.

Marco blinked, and Spalletti squinted.

Neither looked particularly pleased about it.

The older man turned back toward the office and then toward Marco.

”We need to move quickly with the boy.”

Marco’s expression sharpened immediately.

”Leo?”

Spalletti nodded and then crossed his arms.

”Spain.”

Marco’s eyebrows rose slightly.

”Right.”

”England too.”

Spalletti continued.

”As far as I know, nobody has tied him down yet. Not even us!”

”No.”

”So if someone decides they want him...”

”They can still get him,” Marco finished.

Spalletti nodded once as Marco looked down briefly.

”You’re convinced already?”

At that, a huge laugh escaped Spalletti.

”Marco,” he said as the laugh receded.

”You should have offered him to the previous head coach. Maybe things might have changed a bit then.”

”Well, even I didn’t know him back then,” Marco chuckled before pointing towards the federation’s administrative block some distance away.

”It was my father!”

Spalletti nodded at that, and then grabbed his keys from the desk.

”I’m going home.”

Marco looked genuinely relieved when he heard that.

When Spalletti left a moment later, Marco remained where he was, with his hands resting on his hips.

A few seconds later, he walked towards the table and then grabbed the file he’d given to Spalletti before setting it aside.

When the table looked decent enough, Marco grabbed the coffee cups, tossed them into the bin beside the desk and also made his way out!

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