Harbinger Of Glory

Dawson set the last of the papers aside and pressed two fingers into the back of his neck, working at the stiffness that had settled there over the last couple of hours, and looked around his living room.

The international break turned the complex into something he didn’t quite know what to do with.

The sessions he’d run with the players who hadn’t been called up were useful enough. But after spending the day in a quieter training ground, coming home to an equally quiet house left the silence lingering a little longer than he’d have liked.

A second later, he looked at the clock on the wall and suddenly had a thought flash across his mind.

”Italy should be playing by now,” he said as he began to look around the desk he was working at.

A moment later, he found what he was looking for in the form of a tablet and reached for it.

He brought it to his side and pulled up the streaming service, scrolling through it for a while before he found the game he wanted to watch and settled in.

The first thing he noticed was the scoreline, showing Italy leading by the odd goal as well as the 22 minutes of the game that had already been played.

The second thing he noticed was the shape of the Italian team, specifically the player sitting at the base of the Italian midfield with his back to the defensive line and his eyes on everything ahead of him.

Dawson watched Leo for a moment and then shook his head.

Leo had mentioned it to him that morning about his inclusion in the starting lineup, but seeing it was much more effective than hearing it.

Starting a game right after joining the senior side of your national team.

”Yeah, it’s not even surprising,” Dawson thought to himself as he watched Ukraine, who had the ball and were trying to work it through the lines.

In that same bit, Leo was moving between the half spaces, constantly adjusting his positioning and closing the central lanes before the Ukrainian midfielders had even looked up to consider them.

Seeing that, Dawson snorted and shook his head.

”He’d have told me where to stick that role,” he said with a little chuckle.

”Spalletti asks him, and he just gets on with it.”

He put the tablet on the armrest and settled back, feeling more than proud that the little boy he’d unearthed almost 2 years ago was currently taking his first steps in the jungle of international football.

....

Inside the Giuseppe Meazza, Ukraine began to edge further up the pitch.

Their midfield stepped ten yards higher than before, the back line following behind them as short, urgent calls echoed across the grass.

They knew a goal down wasn’t a position they could afford to sit in for long.

That was simply not entertainable.

They strung together some passes, looking to break down and find a way through the gaps, but it was as futile as trying to do something that couldn’t be done at all.

And one simple reason for that was Calderon.

All who watched the game keenly couldn’t miss his presence.

When a space felt hollow, he filled it or called for it to be filled.

He drifted across the spaces in front of Bastoni and Scalvini, never chasing the ball, only arriving where it looked most likely to go next.

More than once, a Ukrainian midfielder lifted his head, glanced inside and thought better of the pass, sending play wide instead.

That was exactly what Italy wanted, and so the away side kept adjusting, until they found a route with one of the oldest tricks in the book.

After being able to get the ball to the flanks, Tsyganov looked up and wrapped his foot around the ball, sending a curling pass into the space behind Scalvini.

The oncoming ball never looked like a challenging task for the Italian until Artem Dovbyk reacted.

The striker muscled his way across the defender, almost bullying Scalvini as he got his body between man and ball and met the bounce before the Italian defender could recover.

In the next second, he drew his leg back, not bothering to bring the ball under control.

He struck through it on the rise, trying to flash it across the face of goal before Donnarumma could set himself.

”Bastoni has to get there...” the commentary conferred.

And the defender did.

The Inter Milan man threw himself across the angle, stretching every inch of his frame before his outstretched boot caught just enough of the effort to divert it behind.

It was only then that the San Siro breathed again.

”What a recovery!” the commentator exclaimed.

”That is outstanding defending from Alessandro Bastoni. Had he missed that by an inch, Dovbyk might have found the back of the net or worse, his teammates standing in the middle.”

”And that’s exactly what Ukraine have been searching for,” the co-commentator added.

”They are still searching for their first shot on target. Italy have dealt with it this time, but the warning signs are starting to appear. Spalletti’s boys need to get their minds right.”

Bastoni climbed back to his feet and gave Leo a quick tap between the shoulders, pointing toward the back post as the box began to fill with bodies.

The height difference between the two sides wasn’t that much, but it was enough for the Italians to take care.

Leo nodded and dropped into position right behind Dovbyk, who was being marked by Scalvini and now covered by Leo.

Zinchenko took his time over the corner, one arm raised above his head before he whipped the delivery toward the six-yard box.

Unfortunately, his effort never reached its target.

As the ball flew into the box, Donnarumma burst through the crowd, rose above everyone in yellow and plucked the ball cleanly out of the air with both hands before bringing it safely into his chest as he landed.

”Authoritative goalkeeping,” the commentator said.

”He saw it early, came through traffic and killed the danger in one movement.”