Atalanta's defenders stood frozen for a moment—Tolói shaking his head, Djimsiti with hands on hips, Musso retrieving the ball from the net with his jaw tight—while the away section fell silent except for a few voices still chanting desperately.
Tolói turned to Djimsiti, his voice sharp. "We need to be tighter! No space behind!"
"I had Giroud!" Djimsiti shot back, frustration clear. "The rebound—"
"Doesn't matter now," Koopmeiners interrupted, jogging over. "Reset. We're still in this."
Musso placed the ball on the center spot and clapped his hands twice. "Dai ragazzi! One goal! We equalize and we're back!"
On the touchline, Gasperini was already on his feet, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted instructions that were barely audible over the celebration.
"PUSH UP! HIGHER LINE! DON'T SIT BACK!"
His assistant showed hand signals—pressing triggers, defensive shape—and Gasperini's face showed no panic, only calculation as he processed what needed adjusting.
