Harbinger Of Glory

Spalletti was already on the pitch when they assembled.

The players found him standing by the centre circle, watching the last few arrive before giving a small nod to the staff beside him.

He waited until the last player had come through and then looked at all of them.

"Italian football," Spalletti began, looking around the group, "has always known who it is. Somewhere along the way, we forgot."

"When people outside Italy think about us, they think about defending. They think about catenaccio. They think about great defenders. Franco Baresi. Paolo Maldini. Fabio Cannavaro. They think about winning 1-0 and making it feel impossible for the other team to breathe."

Watching the players almost roll their eyes at his monologue, he couldn’t help but smile wryly since what he was saying was something they’d been taught since the start of their careers in the youth system.

But when he found Leo’s gaze, searching for him to continue his next words like he wanted to absorb it all, he couldn’t help but smile genuinely this time.

"There’s a reason for that," he continued. "We built a football culture around intelligence and around discipline."

"That mentality won us four World Cups. It gave us generations of players the rest of the world still studies today. It became part of who we are."

"But football doesn’t stand still."

"Because of a certain bald-headed genius who is not me," he said, making the players chuckle, "football is now about keeping the ball and pressing in zones and making your opponent feel like they are playing against eleven ghosts."

"This man has changed the game, and I respect him for it, but we are talking about solving our problems today. If we keep answering modern questions with yesterday’s solutions, we’ll stay exactly where we’ve been."

After he said this, his expression hardened a bit.

"We have missed two World Cups. For Italy, that should never become normal."

He let the words hang for a moment before continuing.

"Our football must still be intelligent. It must still be disciplined. But it also has to be brave."

After that, he looked at the grass and gestured towards it.

"Sit down," he said. "I should have done this in a classroom, but here we are."

The players sat on the grass, and Spalletti crouched slightly with the energy of a man who was more comfortable on his feet but was making the concession.

"My aim is simple," he said.

"Score two goals and keep a clean sheet. That’s the game. My opponent can have the ball for ninety minutes for all I care. If I get two chances and my players are good enough, I want both of them in the net."

After that, he looked around.

"Attack is the best form of defence for those who cannot defend. For those who can, defence is the best form of defence.

If you want to play in this team, you will defend. I don’t necessarily mean standing in front of a striker and trying to win the ball back.

I mean having the ability to keep your opponents away from the ball without foul play. That is also defending."

While he went on, someone behind him wheeled in a screen and a setup, drawing the attention of the players as Spalletti turned and thanked the staff member and turned back.

"Exhibit A," he said after he’d gotten the attention of the players back.

"Defending with the ball."

After he’d said that, the screen lit up, showing a passage of play.

Leo looked at the screen and instantly saw himself with the ball at his feet, and he couldn’t help but be surprised for a bit as he was being used as the case study.

Leo saw himself and felt something pass through him that wasn’t quite embarrassment and wasn’t quite pride, somewhere between the two, and he kept his face neutral.

On the screen was footage from one of his games in the championship, and there he was, in his own half with three men around him.

For the players, watching it was a press that should produce a turnover and sometimes produces a panic.

But then they watched the ball get manipulated away from the first two with the sole of his foot and then through the legs of the third.

After that, Spalletti paused it.

"Did you catch what I wanted you to see?"

What he got in return was silence as nobody answered with any conviction.

With a smile, Spalletti rewound it.

"Watch," he said. "Keenly."

The players leaned forward as the footage ran again, and this time everyone was looking at the same thing: the way the ball moved between three pressing players without the player carrying it ever appearing rushed, and then the release, the single pass that put a teammate in behind an entire defensive line.

After that, Spalletti paused it again.

"One ball," he said.

"That is all. One ball that puts your teammate in a position to score and the clinicality to finish it off. That is the play I want. That is the sort of play that wins games at the highest level. "

Saying that, he looked at the screen for a moment and then looked at the players sitting on the grass, and then he smiled.

"Isn’t that right, Calderon?"

At that, several heads turned in the direction that Spalletti had been looking in and found Leo was sitting with the blank expression of someone who had been paying attention to the screen and had not been expecting his name at the end of a sentence, and then he nodded.

"Ah, yes," he said as Spalletti pointed at him.

"Four passes," he said, causing Leo to look at him questioningly.

"If you are able to give me four passes of that quality in every game we play, regardless of the opponent, regardless of the scoreline, then you are already a regular in this team."

After that, he held Leo’s gaze for a moment and then looked back at the group.

"Today we work on one thing," he said as he told them to get back to their feet.

"Line breaking. That is what the afternoon is for. Now loosen up and let’s go."

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