The San Siro was a vortex of pure, unadulterated noise.
The Inter players were still in a celebratory pile, mobbing a grinning Hakan Çalhanoğlu, while the Juventus players surrounded the referee, their faces masks of volcanic fury, screaming about the deflection.
On the sideline, the Juventus manager looked like he was about to spontaneously combust, kicking the air and yelling words at the fourth official that would make a sailor blush.
The commentator, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. "A GOAL OF UTTER, UNADULTERATED, RIDICULOUS LUCK!" he bellowed, his voice filled with glee. "Inter have taken the lead in the Derby d'Italia through a pinball wizard's dream! Bremer can only look on in horror! Szczęsny was in a different postcode! The hunters have drawn first blood with a fortunate, farcical, fantastic goal!"
The lucky goal didn't break Juventus's spirit; it filled them with a cold, calculated rage. They were a wounded animal, and now they were out for blood.
