Away Locker Room - Post-Match
The away locker room felt like a funeral.
Players sat in their assigned spots, some with heads in hands, others staring at nothing, a few stripping off their kits slowly because exhaustion made every movement feel like swimming through concrete.
Nobody spoke. What was there to say? They'd competed, created chances, defended well, and still lost because football was cruel sometimes and margins were measured in millimeters and VAR could take away joy with geometric precision.
Demien sat between his bag and the wall, his jersey soaked through with sweat and his legs cramping in ways that made standing painful, and the disappointment sat in his chest heavy enough to make breathing difficult.
Gasperini entered after giving his players five minutes of silence, and when he spoke his voice carried no anger—just tired acceptance of a result that could have gone differently but didn't.
