Chapter 28: Chapter 27: Atalanta U23 vs Como U23 [VII]
The clock showed 84 minutes when Como pushed forward with desperation as three-nil down with six minutes left meant they had nothing to lose. Their striker broke through the middle as Greco stepped across to challenge, and the Como player tried to turn, but Greco’s tackle was clean but hard as the striker went down for a free kick.
But Como’s frustration was showing when their right-back came in late on Lombardi near the touchline, catching him on the ankle after the ball was gone, and the referee’s whistle blew immediately. "Foul! Yellow card!"
Como’s right-back protested weakly, but he knew—the challenge was late, born of frustration—and he took the yellow without argument as Atalanta’s tempo hadn’t dropped, if anything looking more comfortable now with the substitutes having settled in and the team moving as one unit.
Demien orchestrated everything, and even with two shadows on him, he found ways to contribute through dummy runs that created space, quick one-touch passes that broke pressure, and positioning that forced Como to adjust, while the confidence had spread through the team because they weren’t just winning—they were controlling.
*******
At 90 minutes, the referee checked his watch, showing three minutes of added time, and Atalanta kept the ball, circulating it from side to side as Como pressed half-heartedly now with legs heavy and spirits broken. At ninety-two minutes, Demien received the ball near the center circle as two Como players closed, but without the same intensity as earlier, and he played it back to Riccardo, who took two touches before finding Conte on the right.
Conte played it back to Mancini, and the center back held it, letting time drain as the referee raised his whistle before one long blast and two short signaled full time.
Full time. Atalanta 3-0 Como.
The small crowd applauded—not loud since this wasn’t a major match—but genuine, and Atalanta’s players shook hands with Como’s team with professional respect. Demien found Como’s two midfielders who’d marked him, shaking hands without words, just nods, as they’d done their job as best they could.
Riccardo caught Demien near the center circle, pulling him into a brief hug and clapping his back once. "You made that look easy," Riccardo said quietly.
"Team effort."
"Don’t be modest. We both know what happened out there," Riccardo’s expression was serious. "You controlled the game."
He walked away before Demien could respond, and Luca appeared, grinning wide. "Did you see that run? I beat two players!"
"The assist was perfect."
"Because you created the space for it," Luca’s grin widened. "Coach was right about you. You’re different."
They walked toward the tunnel together as the directors’ box was emptying with suits and clipboards filing out, but only Gasperini remained, standing at the glass and watching the players disappear into the tunnel with his notepad full now—page after page of observations—and Belotti appeared beside him. "Mister?"
"Hmm."
"The players are waiting for post-match analysis."
"Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes," Gasperini didn’t move. "I need to think."
Belotti left him alone, and Gasperini looked down at his notes where the page in front of him had scribbled observations:
#8 Walter - 2nd half
Como doubled him entire half - still created60yd pass 1st half (Carlos goal)Threaded pass 1st half (Parisi goal)Beat double-team 78’ - dribbled through 2Dummy run 67’ - pulled markers, opened space for captainNever panicked under pressureComo coach clearly targeted himWhy did Fiorentina release???
#11 Bianchi - 2nd half
Explosive run 78’ - beat 2 defendersGood cross for Gabriel goalWatch again
He closed the notepad slowly, thinking about an eighteen-year-old academy reject playing well above expectations for this level before concluding he was worth another look. Gasperini turned and walked toward the exit.
*******
Atalanta Locker Room - Post-Match
The locker room erupted when the door closed as Romano shouted, "Three-nil! Clean sheet!" and players clapped and shouted with relief and joy mixing together, while even the players who’d been subbed off at halftime joined in, celebrating as a team.
Gabriel grabbed Luca, pulling him into a headlock. "That run! Where did that come from?"
"I don’t know!" Luca was laughing. "It just happened!"
"Two defenders! You beat two defenders!"
Across the room, Riccardo stood with the captain’s armband still on his bicep, catching Demien’s eye and raising his water bottle in acknowledgment as Demien raised his in return, while Mancini was talking with Torres and Greco—the three substitute center backs reviewing their defensive performance—and Lombardi and Conte, the wing-backs, were stretching their legs after the full ninety minutes.
Coach Rossi entered with clipboard in hand, and the room didn’t go silent, but the volume dropped as he said simply, "Good work. Three-nil. Clean sheet. Exactly what we needed."
He looked around the room before continuing. "Gabriel, good movement in the box. That third goal was perfectly timed."
Gabriel nodded, still grinning, and Rossi continued. "Luca, that run for the third goal—exactly what I asked for. Attack their right-back. You destroyed him."
"Thank you, Coach."
"Riccardo, good leadership in the second half. Kept us organized when Como pressed."
Riccardo nodded once, professional, and Rossi’s tone didn’t change, but something in his eyes did when he addressed Demien. "They put two players on you for forty-five minutes. You still found ways to create. That’s football intelligence."
"Thank you, Coach."
"Everyone else—good energy, good support, this is how we play," Rossi checked his clipboard. "Showers, then food. Rest tomorrow. We train Monday and Tuesday for Wednesday’s match."
He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Good performances today. Keep working."
He left, and the room stayed quiet for a moment before conversations started up again as players moved toward the showers with the energy still high from the win.
Demien pulled off his shirt and grabbed his towel as his legs were tired, but not dead, and his stats had held up—stamina, pace, passing, all of it—while the system chimed softly in his head as he walked toward the showers.
「MATCH COMPLETE」
「FULL-TIME ANALYSIS」
「Match Rating: 9.1」
「Goals: 0」
「Assists: 0 (officially)」
「Key Passes: 8」
「Chances Created: 4」
「Passing Accuracy: 87%」
「Duels Won: 11/15」
「Times Dispossessed: 2」
「Defensive Actions: 4」
「Distance Covered: 10.8 km」
「MISSION COMPLETE」
「Objective: Maintain 7.0+ rating ✓ (9.1 achieved)」
「Secondary: 1+ key pass ✓ (8 achieved)」
「REWARDS GRANTED」
「+20 TP」
「+2 SP」
「SPECIAL RECOGNITION: Elite Performance (9.1 Rating)」
「Bonus Reward: +5 SP」
「SPECIAL RECOGNITION: Elite Performance Under Tactical Constraint」
「Additional Reward: +50 TP」
「Current Balance: 0 TP | 3 SP | 0 MP」
「Total Rewards: +70 TP | +7 SP」
「New Balance: 70 TP | 10 SP | 0 MP」
Demien dismissed the notification as the hot water felt good on his shoulders, and by the time he finished, most players had already left for the cafeteria. He dressed quickly in jeans and a simple black t-shirt with his training bag slung over one shoulder, and the corridor outside was quiet as most of the staff had gone home.
Marco was waiting near the exit.
"Demien!"