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... ged from the dugout for what felt like the second first time of his career, of course it actually was. The buzz of the Unipol Domus filled his ears, a cocktail of jeers, chants, drums, and whistles. It wasn’t Old Trafford or the Bernabéu, but it had the same sting of anticipation, the same pre-match crackle in the air that reminded him why football was both a drug and a curse.

He followed his team to the bench, one slow step at a time. There was something sacred about this walk. It remin ...

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