Lu had originally wanted to get up.
But his teammates were too worked up. With the atmosphere like this, getting up now would have been a little inappropriate.
Rolling around clutching his foot at this point would have looked too fake, so Lu simply curled up slightly.
If anyone asked, he was dizzy, weak, and nauseous. If they asked again, his lower limbs were numb.
Sampdoria's team doctor arrived late, along with Boskov, who followed beside the stretcher. The referee was busy breaking up the fight and did not even notice the coach running onto the field.
"Dejan, hang in there!"
Boskov shouted as he crouched down.
"Vujadin, get him onto the stretcher first."
"Oh, right, hurry!"
Boskov clumsily helped out, and the three of them carried Lu off the field.
Pezzotti looked back and saw that the head coach was gone. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
"Dejan seems to be injured. Dunga shoved him down when he was completely unprepared. It could be a muscle strain or some other problem. A foul like Dunga's is truly vile and must be severely punished."
Rossi said disgustedly.
"Red card! The referee has shown three red cards in a row. Dunga, Roberto Mancini, and Lanna have all been sent off. It's now nine against ten, but Dejan's injury is a huge blow to Sampdoria. They'll have to make a substitution next."
"Sampdoria are leading 3-1 now. With one man down, it's hard to say whether they can hold on until the end."
Fortunately, the remaining players held firm, and they eventually won 3-2 away from home.
Baggio appeared at the post-match press conference.
With Lu absent, Baggio was the star of the day.
"Roberto, could you comment on Dejan?"
"Tell us about Dejan's performance today, Roberto."
"Do you think Dunga's foul was completely pointless, Roberto?"
"Roberto, who do you think is more handsome, you or Dejan?"
"..."
Giorgi did not know whether to laugh or cry. As the coach, he had become completely invisible.
Baggio pulled the microphone over and said, "I won't defend someone just because he is my teammate. I can only say that something happened today that I did not want to see. This is absolutely not the kind of match I want."
Giorgi knew at once that things were about to go bad.
Sure enough.
The reporters went crazy.
"Do you mean Dunga was wrong?"
"How many matches do you think Dunga should be suspended for?"
"What did Dejan say to you today?"
"What do you think of Dejan as a player?"
"..."
Baggio continued, "Suspensions are the federation's business, and I don't want to talk about that. But you should understand the importance of respecting your opponents. You must respect football. Only then can you become a true master. Dejan was outstanding today. He played with great elegance, like a ballet dancer."
"Who do you think is better, you or Dejan?"
a reporter pressed.
Baggio smiled and shook his head. "It doesn't count if I say it myself. Let the fans and the media judge. That's what you like doing most, isn't it?"
"Roberto, then who do you think is more handsome, you or Dejan?"
Baggio, who had been preparing to stand up, grabbed the microphone again. "Being handsome is no help in football, but Dejan is indeed very cool. My sister told me I had to exchange shirts with him, but I couldn't make it happen this time."
Baggio was the eighth child in his family. He also had a younger brother, with a whole bunch of older brothers and sisters above him.
Even in Italy, where people liked having lots of children, they were considered a large family.
Seeing Baggio leave, Giorgi could only stand up as well.
Baggio belonged to Fiorentina, while Giorgi was merely a coach working for Fiorentina. That was the difference.
San Raffaele Hospital.
Milan was a little farther from Florence than Genoa was, about a hundred kilometers farther, yet Lu was still sent to Milan for treatment at the first opportunity.
"Doctor, is he really all right?"
Boskov asked.
"Yes, sir. I guarantee there's nothing wrong with him physically. If you're still worried, you can have him stay in the hospital for observation for a few days."
The doctor spoke helplessly.
"Observation, observation!"
Boskov immediately nodded.
The doctor silently rolled his eyes.
They had run every test except a gynecological exam, and he was still not reassured.
It was the first time the doctor had seen someone like this.
Boskov did not drive away until Monica arrived. The old coach had been running around until the middle of the night, which had not been easy on him either.
As dawn began to break, Monica, who had been lying on Lu's chest, gave him a pat. "Aren't you perfectly fine? You scared me to death when you called."
"You don't understand the situation back then. If I hadn't gotten injured, my teammates would have suffered."
Lu said.
Roberto Mancini and Lanna had both hit someone. It was understandable for them to fight because their teammate had been injured.
What else could Lu do? For the sake of his teammates, he could only be injured.
"When do you plan to leave the hospital, then?"
Monica asked.
"That depends on the coach's arrangements."
Lu said with a helpless smile.
If Boskov was still worried, he definitely would not let him leave the hospital.
The two of them fell asleep, and only then did the Apennines begin to awaken.
La Gazzetta dello Sport published a photo of the moment Lu fell to the ground. Dunga had not even pulled his hands back yet. They wrote: "This was an extremely vile and disgusting foul. When you are on the pitch and cannot stop your opponent, you can find other ways, but you must never resort to hurting him. Baggio stood by Dejan in his post-match interview. This genius, who has suffered serious injuries himself, surely understands Dejan's feelings very well. We also hope Dejan makes a speedy recovery."
Gazzetta dello Sport: "Geniuses beat people with their feet on the pitch. Mediocrities grow jealous and use their hands to hurt opponents."
Tuttosport: "The relationship between Baggio and Dunga has already broken down. An unnamed Pisa player claimed that Dunga has always been petty and often holds grudges against his teammates."
During the day, his teammates came to visit Lu one after another.
When Verchowod arrived, he brought his son along. Roberto Mancini quickly tossed his cards into the pile and said, "It's not good to play cards in front of a child."
"What a tasteless guy."
Vialli laughed and scolded.
"Get well soon, Uncle Dejan."
Paolo Verchowod set down a fruit basket and said.
"Thank you, little guy. Didn't you go out with your friends this weekend?"
Lu asked with a smile.
"I wanted to come see you. They're too childish."
Little Verchowod complained.
"Hahaha, then what counts as not childish?"
Vialli asked.
"You should have greater ideals!"
Little Verchowod said.
"What ideals?"
"Plant the Red Flag across the entire world!"
The hospital room instantly fell silent.
Verchowod explained helplessly, "This child thinks that would be fairer and would truly achieve equality between men and women."
"That's true. The Soviet Union really did make women work in mines."
Lu said.
"Uncle Dejan, great ideals will come true, right?"
Little Verchowod asked eagerly.
Lu did not know what to say.
The upheaval in Eastern Europe had already begun. It was only a matter of time before that empire fell apart.
A few seconds later, Lu rubbed his head and said, "You can strive for great ideals. Maybe one day, you'll become an important person."
"I definitely will!"
"What do you want me to say? Should I send you to the Soviet Union?"
Berlusconi sat with one leg crossed over the other, a cigar pinched in one hand. A newspaper lay before him, with Lu's photo prominently displayed on it.
Galliani wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and explained, "I didn't expect him to develop this quickly either."
"But as AC Milan's vice president, you have dragged the club into becoming a laughingstock as well. I don't care who he is, and I don't care how well he plays, but as long as he performs well, you will keep being mocked. AC Milan will be mocked too, and so will I!"
Berlusconi shouted, slapping the table.
"I'll speak with the media."
Galliani said.
"Forget it. I'll handle this. Leave Italy for a while and keep a low profile."
"Huh? Are you really sending me to the Soviet Union?"
Galliani asked nervously.
"No, Malawi. My construction company just signed a project there."
"That's good, that's good. By the way, boss, where is Malawi?"
"Africa."
"That's good, that's good—huh? Africa?!!!"
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