Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 401: A Matter Of Inches!

Harbinger Of Glory

Chapter 401: A Matter Of Inches!

Translate to
Chapter 401: A Matter Of Inches!

Keane helped Raspadori to his feet while Chiesa jogged across from the right, both of them looking toward the ball.

Behind them, and from his central position, Leo was already moving toward it, eyes on the spot where the ball sat and already wondering how he’d play it.

"Leo Calderon, also approaching the free kick," the commentator said.

"And on a night like this, in a stadium like this, on debut for the Azzurri, you would not put anything past him."

Chiesa looked at Raspadori and then back at Leo covering the last few steps toward them.

"Why not leave it to the kid," he said as Raspadori’s brow went up slightly, not having expected the suggestion.

His brow went down as immediately as it had gone up before looking down at the ball and then back up at Chiesa, who gave a small nod in Leo’s direction.

Raspadori looked at Leo arriving beside them and also shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, why not," he muttered towards Chiesa as Leo got there and looked between the two of them.

"What are we doing?" he said in the best Italian he could muster.

Raspadori pressed his lips together to keep from laughing and rolled the ball to Leo’s feet before turning and walking away, shaking his head at the pronunciation of some of Leo’s words while Chiesa gave Leo a nod and peeled off toward the box without another word.

Leo looked down at the ball and then up at the referee who was still organising the wall, pulling the Ukrainian bodies back the required distance.

When he finally got them settled, he turned and looked at Leo.

"Ready?"

Leo opened his mouth and then closed it and then nodded, setting the ball down properly, and took four steps back and two to the left and stood there looking at the wall and at the space above it and at the corner of the goal beyond.

"So it’s Leo Calderon standing over this," the commentator said, and there was no mistaking the anticipation sitting underneath the words.

"Debut for Italy. Free kick in a position that he absolutely can do something with if players like Chiesa are leaving the effort to him.

The wall is set, Bushchan is organising himself between the posts, and in the box you have bodies from both sides waiting on the delivery."

Leo raised his right hand toward the box, the same gesture he’d used at corner kicks, fingers spread and trying his best to convey to his teammates as much as he could about where the ball was going.

The Italian players in the box responded, adjusting their positions accordingly, reading the signals and moving to the spots that the delivery was going to need them in.

Bushchan tracked all of it from his line, eyes moving between Leo and the crowd of bodies between him and the ball, calculating, trying to stay ahead of what was coming.

A moment later, the referee’s whistle went, and in the next second, Leo stepped into it.

Bushchan watched the cluster of blue and yellow shirts beginning to move toward him as the ball left Leo’s boot, all those bodies looming.

His brain was occupied entirely with the delivery, with the cross that was coming into a very crowded six-yard box, and so when the ball didn’t come into the box at all it took him a half second too long to understand why.

Leo had gone straight for goal, and the ball rose over the wall and began bending, the arc of it doing something that made the commentator’s voice climb immediately.

The ball rose over the wall and began to bend, the arc pulling the commentator’s voice up with it.

"THAT’S A BEAUTIFUL EFFORT! NOW IS IT IN!!"

The commentary called after the ball as the players of both sides slowed almost to a still, all ball watching, including Bushcan who hadn’t been able to move.

It looked destined for the back of the net, but like some force acting upon it, the ball didn’t dip further and smashed against the crossbar to the relief of Bushcan and the rest of the Ukrainian players.

The sound cracked through the San Siro, followed by a collective gasp from eighty thousand people caught between celebration and disbelief.

"The crossbar!" the commentator shouted as the rebound dropped into the box.

There, Zaccagni fought tooth and nail to meet it on the bounce, but his header was awkward, hurried, and drifted wide without trouble.

"WOOOW," the commentary called as the broadcast cameras cut immediately to Leo standing 29 yards out with both hands on the back of his head and staring at the crossbar like it had done him wrong.

"What an effort. He was inches away from a debut free-kick goal. That was heading for the top corner, but the woodwork has denied him to keep the suspense still in the game because Italy would have pulled ahead further had that gone in!"

"Zaccagni couldn’t convert the rebound," the co-commentator said, "but look at this moment from Leo Calderon. He’s been running the show for the better part of the half and almost gets a goal to show for it but alas....."

"The idea to deceive Bushchan was already set for the cross with that little hand feint," the main commentator added quickly.

"He didn’t see the strike coming until it was too late. That is some top-level ingenuity from the teenager here."

Spalletti on the sidelines had a wry grin on his face.

He’d almost celebrated, but the crossbar had stopped him shortly.

Shaking his head at the chance that had escaped, he stepped forward, beckoning his players back to shape.

Leo in particular finally dropped his hands, turned, and started jogging toward halfway again, a small smile breaking through like he was trying not to dwell on the effort.

Behind him, Bushchan collected the ball and reset for the restart, all while the Italian crowd became more confident by the second.

Their applause lingered, consistently folding into the noise of the game as it carried on.

After the game resumed, not much changed even with the scare.

Ukraine probed without reward while Italy stayed compact, keeping Ukraine on their toes with another effort from Chiesa that found the side netting before the referee’s whistle came to end the first half of the fixture.

"Italy lead Ukraine 1–0 at the break," the commentator said as on the pitch, the players began walking towards the tunnel.

"And if this first half has told us anything, it’s that this Italy side under Spalletti is playing with a different edge this game. Plenty still to come after the interval. Stay tuned!"

How did this chapter make you feel?

One tap helps us surface trending chapters and recommend titles you'll actually enjoy — your vote shapes You may also like.