The match resud after the free kick scramble, and Adriano limped back onto the pitch with heavy strapping around his ankle while his jaw was set with determination despite the visible discomfort, and the wonderkid imdiately slotted back into his position as Fiorentina’s attacking midfielder while the physio jogged back to the touchline.
The next twenty-three minutes beca a war of attrition as both teams pressed and probed without finding the breakthrough, and Atalanta dominated possession while Fiorentina sat deep and absorbed pressure with disciplined defensive lines that frustrated every attacking attempt.
Demien orchestrated from central midfield with renewed focus as his earlier anger had been channeled into controlled aggression, and he dropped deep to collect passes before spraying balls wide to Luca and Costa, but Fiorentina’s defenders read the patterns and closed down space before chances could fully develop.
Luca made two more dangerous runs down the left flank that ended with crosses blocked at the source, and Costa cut inside from the right twice only to see his shots deflected wide for corners that ca to nothing, and Parisi grew increasingly frustrated as service into the box dried up under Fiorentina’s compact shape.
Fiorentina launched occasional counter-attacks through Adriano’s intelligent movent between the lines, but his mobility was clearly compromised by the ankle injury, and twice he tried to accelerate past challenges only to pull up short as pain flashed across his face.
The electronic scoreboard at the far end of the stadium continued displaying 1-0 in Fiorentina’s favor as minutes ticked by without change, and the tension in the stands grew as Atalanta’s supporters urged their team forward while Fiorentina’s fans celebrated every defensive clearance with increasing nervousness.
Coach Rossi paced the touchline with his arms crossed as he watched his team create half-chances that died in the final third, and he shouted instructions about width and tempo while his assistant scribbled tactical adjustnts on the clipboard beside him.
In the directors’ box, Gasperini watched the match with his full attention locked on the pitch below.
Then the 43rd minute arrived.
Fiorentina won a corner on the right side as Franchi’s cross had been deflected behind by Rinaldi’s desperate intervention, and their players pushed forward into Atalanta’s box while Leone organized his defense with sharp commands and pointing fingers.
Cataldi stood over the corner kick and delivered it toward the near post with pace, and bodies jumped in a mass of purple and blue as the ball swung through the crowded area, but Ferrari rose highest and headed it clear toward the edge of the box.
The ball dropped to Vitale at the top of the arc, and the striker controlled it on his chest before turning and striking a first-ti volley that flew toward the bottom corner with power, and Leone dove full stretch to his right as his fingertips reached the ball just enough to push it away from goal.
The ball bounced once near the six-yard line before Leone scrambled to his feet and grabbed it with both hands, and without hesitation, he turned and looked upfield as Fiorentina’s players were caught high and out of position.
Leone’s arm cocked back and released in one fluid motion as the ball flew through the air toward Luca near the halfway line, and the wing-back controlled it on his chest before it dropped to his feet while Signorini sprinted across to close him down.
Luca’s head snapped up and he spotted Demien making a run through the center circle with space opening ahead of him, and his right foot connected with a firm pass that rolled into Demien’s path with perfect weight.
Demien’s first touch pushed the ball forward as his legs pumped into full sprint, and suddenly he was driving through Fiorentina’s half with only Fabbri standing between him and the defense, and the midfielder rushed across to block the path while Demien’s acceleration carried him forward.
Fabbri lunged with a sliding tackle as his leg extended to win the ball, but Demien’s right foot flicked it to the left at the last second while his body swerved right, and the combination left Fabbri grasping at air as Demien burst past him into space.
Now it was just Demien and Adriano.
The wonderkid had dropped deep when he saw the counter developing, and he positioned himself directly in Demien’s path as his eyes tracked the ball and his feet spread into a defensive stance despite the throbbing pain in his ankle.
Their eyes t for a fraction of a second, and every word from the bathroom confrontation, every mory of Elena’s betrayal, every ounce of accumulated bitterness hung in the air between them.
Demien’s pace didn’t slow as he approached with the ball glued to his right foot, and Adriano shifted his weight forward to ti his challenge, but then Demien’s body moved in a way that defied expectation.
His right foot dragged the ball behind his standing leg in one smooth motion while his body turned 360 degrees, and the Marseille Roulette unfolded with fluid precision as the ball stayed close throughout the rotation, and by the ti Demien completed the turn, Adriano’s montum had carried him forward into empty space while Demien erged on the other side with the ball still at his feet.
"WOOOOOO!" The crowd erupted with appreciation for the skill as Adriano stumbled and fell to one knee, and the wonderkid’s face showed shock and humiliation as he watched Demien accelerate away.
In the directors’ box, Gasperini threw his head back and laughed out loud as the sound carried genuine delight, and he turned to his assistant while shaking his head before saying, "It’s been so long since I enjoyed watching a youth match this much."
His assistant grinned while still watching the pitch as he responded, "That skill was ridiculous."
"That skill was perfect," Gasperini corrected while leaning forward again with anticipation written across his face.
On the pitch, Demien’s legs pumped at full speed as his acceleration stat of 83 carried him away from the fallen Adriano, and he crossed into Fiorentina’s defensive third with Bellotti and Gabbrielli scrambling to cover while Parisi made a run toward the near post.
Adriano pushed himself up from the ground with both hands as his ankle scread in protest, and when he looked up, Demien had already gained fifteen yards, and desperation flooded through him as he shouted, "Soone get him! Mark him!"
Bellotti committed first and stepped forward to challenge Demien directly, but that decision left space behind him as Parisi continued his diagonal run unmarked, and Demien’s eyes caught the movent in his peripheral vision.
The Lofted Dink technique activated as Demien’s right foot slid under the ball with delicate precision, and the pass lifted over Bellotti’s outstretched leg with just enough height to clear him while dropping toward Parisi’s run with perfect trajectory.
Parisi’s eyes lit up as the ball descended into his path, and he took one touch to control it at the edge of the six-yard box before his right foot struck it cleanly toward goal, and Battistini dove desperately as his fingers reached the ball.
The keeper’s hand made contact and deflected the shot upward, but the power behind Parisi’s strike was too much, and the ball bounced off Battistini’s palm before looping toward the penalty spot where it dropped dangerously.
User Comments
0 comments from readers