The Stadio Olimpico was no longer a football stadium.
The score was 2-2. Twenty minutes to go.
Both teams had ten men.
And every single person on the pitch looked like they had just run a marathon through a hurricane.
The commentator, who sounded like he was gargling with gravel and pure adrenaline, was having the time of his life. "I HAVE SEEN THINGS YOU PEOPLE WOULDN'T BELIEVE!" he roared, his voice cracking. "Red cards in the afternoon sun! Scissor-kicks off the shoulder of Orion! This is not football! This is a fever dream! And I never want to wake up!"
On the pitch, the game had lost all semblance of tactical shape.
It was a chaotic, end-to-end brawl, a contest of pure, unadulterated will.
"LEO! DROP DEEPER!" Lautaro Martínez yelled, his voice hoarse, as he tried to hold the ball up against a defender who was practically climbing on his back.
