Chiesa pointed at himself in surprise. When he saw Boskov nod, he ran toward the touchline without even taking off his jacket, only for his clothes to catch around his feet and send him sprawling onto the grass.
The movement was as comical as something out of a cartoon, yet no one outside the Sampdoria bench laughed.
The fans in the stands behind the bench glanced at the ridiculous scene and felt even sadder.
They had set out full of ambition, only to fail before achieving anything.
Dortmund fans were feeling utterly miserable right now.
It was like when Brother Lee bought a team, only to discover at the start of the season that every last player was fucking useless.
They had promised to compete for trophies on multiple fronts, yet they were already getting battered black and blue in the group stage.
If Sampdoria were this strong, then Barcelona, who had won last year, had to be some kind of galactic superteam, right?
Fortunately, they would not be playing in the Cup Winners' Cup this year.
Enrico Chiesa watched from the bench for a while and felt Dortmund were nothing special. Once he came on, he should be able to beat a man every time he tried.
The main reason was that Dejan Lu had made dribbling past people look far too easy. Dortmund's players seemed like wooden stakes.
Still, Dejan Lu really was incredible.
Previously, Chiesa had thought Dejan Lu was a year younger than him and should have been behind him in the pecking order.
Who would have thought the other guy would go straight into the first team while he was still fucking sharing a table with the youth team?
Having recognized the gap between them, Chiesa decided he first needed enough playing time. He set himself a small target for today's appearance: score one goal. If he could not, then get an assist. If that failed too, winning a penalty would do.
Just as he was about to come on, Sampdoria launched another attack.
Marco Lanna was clearly in good form. Seeing Dejan Lu vacate the flank and move into the box, he drove to the byline decisively. After shaking off Schulz, he whipped a high-quality diagonal cross into the area.
Chiesa shook his head.
The pass was good, but the timing was wrong.
Dejan Lu was facing three defenders. What was the point of playing that ball in?
As Dejan Lu charged forward, Chiesa immediately froze.
Dejan Lu swung his right foot. Helmer turned sideways to block, Zorc threw himself into a sliding tackle, and Kutowski shifted over to provide support.
But the ball passed straight through Dejan Lu's legs.
A mistake?
Chiesa could not help sucking in a sharp breath. Fuck, this guy was unbelievably good.
The ball rolled toward the right side of the penalty area, where Roberto Mancini charged in and unleashed a thunderous shot. The next second, the ball was already hanging in the net.
That was fucking awesome!!!
Even Chiesa could not stop himself from cheering for Dejan Lu.
That move—its deception was simply too strong.
He had drawn the full defensive attention of five opponents, making Mancini's shot almost an afterthought.
The first-time finish was excellent, but in front of such an inspired dummy shot, it felt like mere icing on the cake.
Seeing the bewildered German defenders in the box, Chiesa could not help taking delight in their misfortune.
He was not the only one Dejan Lu had crushed.
"Are... are we still making the substitution?"
Pezzotti asked, swallowing hard.
Another goal had been scored in the time it took the player to get up and warm up.
"Make it."
Boskov turned around uneasily. He was worried the barrier fence would not be enough to stop the home fans.
The atmosphere at Westfalenstadion was too intense.
If anything happened, the old Yugoslav coach was ready to grab Dejan Lu and sprint into the players' tunnel at once.
The fourth official at the touchline had already raised the substitution board.
Dejan Lu noticed Chiesa at the sideline and walked straight toward him.
Clap.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap, clap—
Just as he was about to reach the touchline, applause rose from one section of Westfalenstadion and gradually spread throughout the entire stadium.
Dejan Lu reacted immediately, raising both hands and applauding the stands.
Chiesa was completely dumbfounded.
Just half a meter more, and Dejan Lu would have been able to high-five him.
Only a single step separated them.
Yet at that moment, on this Dortmund night, the Number Seven standing before him, slightly taller than he was, seemed to be a whole light-year ahead.
The stadium fell silent again. He had thought the fans would boo.
Either Dejan Lu or Dortmund's players.
But he had never imagined that they would applaud Dejan Lu.
The man who had personally created five goals and massacred the home side!
Chiesa's outstretched right hand hung in midair, and he did not even dare move it the slightest bit.
He felt that at a moment like this, making even one extra movement would be a desecration of football.
"Good luck, mate."
Dejan Lu clasped Chiesa's hand and patted him on the shoulder.
Chiesa snapped out of his trance and rushed onto the pitch.
The broadcast camera instead turned to the stands, where they discovered that the first person to applaud had been Franz Beckenbauer!
With the protagonist gone, the rest of the match became entirely insignificant.
Yet Sampdoria still scored another goal, ultimately beating their opponents 6–1.
Coppel insisted on attending the press conference despite his team's crushing defeat.
But football had no admirers for losers, and all that awaited him was mockery from the German media.
"Mr. Boskov, could you talk about Dejan's performance today?"
"Why did you take Dejan off early? Coaches rarely substitute a player early when he is not injured."
"Vujadin, how would you rate Dejan's performance? What score would you give him?"
"Mr. Coppel, could you talk about the applause at Westfalenstadion?"
Coppel: ...
He wished he had not heard that question.
Still, Coppel gathered himself and said, "It was a great match. We lost terribly, and as the coach, I will take full responsibility. But what I want to say is that a star changed the course of the match. I never expected that Number Seven to dominate the game."
"So you believe Dejan was the key reason for your defeat today?"
An Italian reporter pressed him.
Coppel nodded vigorously. "If you watched the match, you would know just how outrageous his performance was. Lothar Matthäus and Brehme lost, and we lost too. There is no difference. Perhaps only Diego Maradona can match him."
The Italian reporters below all laughed.
Diego Maradona had played in Serie A for some time, and they all knew his personality well.
Once these words got back to him, Diego Maradona would definitely have something to say.
Boskov could not be bothered with propriety anymore and immediately picked up the microphone. "Dejan was outstanding today, but the victory belonged to the entire team. Dortmund did not display their full strength, and the scoreline does not reflect the gap between the two teams."
Dejan Lu was already at the center of the storm. Boskov truly did not want him to remain the focus off the pitch as well.
"So what do you think of Dejan's performance?"
Boskov said, "This is normal. Dejan has that kind of talent."
Westfalenstadion.
Because Schmidt did not want to get up, Beckenbauer stayed seated with him a while longer.
The two wanted to leave quietly, but a Bild newspaper reporter recognized them at a glance.
Schmidt wanted to lose his temper immediately, but Beckenbauer hurriedly stopped him.
It was better to have less negative press after a defeat. European competition could easily become an issue on the national level, especially with the world still in the Cold War.
Tomorrow's East German newspapers would have a field day.
The reporter tactfully turned to Beckenbauer and asked, "Could you explain why you applauded the opponent? Have you conceded defeat? Surrendered to their footballing skill?"
"Unless I compete on the same pitch, I will not concede defeat. I have already retired, so there is no need to compare me with current players. I applauded because I saw a match filled with charm. Some people say Italian football is boring, but Sampdoria today was full of passion. This is what football should look like. If you think that is weakness, then go ahead and say so. People must admit that some forms of art transcend national borders."
Beckenbauer smiled and said, "Do not make things difficult for Dortmund's players. Sometimes, people simply encounter opponents they cannot defeat no matter how hard they try."
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