Harbinger Of Glory

After the session, some of his new teammates caught Leo in the corridor outside the locker room, and the comments came in quickly.

It was warm, something Leo hadn’t expected, but the players had given it because he’d made a very good impression on them.

He took it all and said thanks and kept moving, turning into the long corridor that had the glass wall on one side overlooking the main pitch as he made his way back to the accommodation.

While he passed it, he couldn’t help but slow down.

Below, on the edge of the training area, Spalletti was standing in front of a cluster of reporters and camera operators, the setup of a post-session media availability with microphones extended and questions coming.

Leo watched for a moment through the glass before moving on.

Down below, one of the reporters had the microphone.

”Coach, you’ve only just taken over. How are you settling into the role? And do you genuinely believe this squad has the quality to take Italy back where it belongs?”

Before answering, Spalletti smiled, looking a bit amused.

”I think you guys need to start watching more football, more football,” he said, simply, and a few of the reporters laughed because they thought he was being dismissive, and he let them think that before continuing.

”I mean it genuinely. Some of the players I have called up are running their respective leagues at this very moment. If you don’t know their names, it says more about the watching than the talent.”

Hearing Spalletti’s words, one of the reporters picked up the thread immediately.

”So it’s like that. Then, can you name the player you’re referring to when you talk about those running their leagues?”

Spalletti looked at him with the patience of a man who had expected exactly this question.

”As I said before,” he said, ”watch more football.”

The reporter smiled wryly before settling down into his seat as the session continued.

As the days passed, Coverciano settled into its new routine.

Every session built on the one before it.

The work on breaking defensive lines gave way to team shape, team shape to set pieces, and every exercise carried the same message beneath it.

Spalletti wasn’t simply preparing them for the next match.

He was teaching them how he wanted Italy to play.

The first European qualifier of the new cycle was against North Macedonia, and the weight of that fixture in the recent history of Italian football was something nobody in the camp needed to have explained to them.

Two losses to the same side in the space of three years had contributed directly to Italy failing to qualify for a World Cup and their bad match record in Europe.

And so the match against North Macedonia was one of the utmost importance to Spalletti, as it was going to be his first impression as well as his first attempt at a fixture that had been churning out bad results for Italy in recent times,

The flight to Skopje the day before the match passed with little conversation.

Most of the squad slept, watched something on their tablets or simply stared out of the windows, saving their energy for what lay ahead.

By the following morning, the mood had improved, but it was still reserved.

North Macedonia might not have carried the reputation of Europe’s traditional powers, but nobody in the camp needed reminding of what had happened the last time Italy had underestimated them.

The National Arena Todor Proeski was a sea of red and yellow long before kickoff.

The Italian supporters had made the trip, their corner of the stadium loud enough to make themselves heard, but they were swallowed by the home crowd the moment the teams emerged from the tunnel.

When the whistle went, Italy tried to impose themselves early.

Donnarumma stood behind Bastoni and Scalvini, Di Marco and Politano pushed high whenever the opportunity came, while Tonali dropped deep to collect the ball before trying to move it through the thirds.

Up front, Immobile stretched the line, constantly looking for the run in behind.

On paper, it was a side with more than enough quality, but on the pitch, it never quite clicked.

Possession came easily enough, but it didn’t come with much purpose.

The ball moved across the back line, into midfield, then back again.

When the forward pass was there, it arrived a second too late.

When the run came, the pass didn’t.

Crosses drifted harmlessly through the box with nobody close enough to attack them, and as the first half wore on, North Macedonia grew more comfortable defending exactly the game Italy were giving them.

They were compact and disciplined and not particularly interested in doing anything that would give Italy room to breathe, and Italy spent the first half being frustrated by an approach they had every tool to break down and couldn’t.

The second half was more of the same for a significant stretch.

Until Politano found Immobile with a pass that slipped between two defenders and landed exactly where the striker’s movement had been asking for it.

And Immobile, who had spent most of the game looking like a man wandering through a city he didn’t recognise, suddenly looked entirely like himself, striking the ball first time and sending it into the net with the clean conviction of a player who never forgets how to score even when everything else has been difficult.

The Italian supporters found their voice and the players found something close to relief as the game moved into its final twenty minutes with Italy looking like they could manage it.

Then the 75th minute arrived, and North Macedonia changed.

The caution went, and the urgency came in its place as bodies surged forward and the intensity of the side rose with it.

The home crowd lifted the team with their chants, screaming like their lives depended on it until the Italian defensive shape, which had been comfortable for an hour, began to feel the pressure of their opponents.