Adriano, The Flowers of Home Have Bloomed

On October 27th, after another check-up, Dejan Lu was finally allowed to leave the hospital with the coach's permission.

As soon as he stepped out of the hospital, a barrage of camera flashes erupted.

"Dejan, are you completely recovered?"

"Is it true your leg is broken and you're out for the season?"

"Have you considered going to Italy for treatment?"

"What do you have to say about Dunga?"

"Marco Lanna only got a one-game suspension, do you think that's fair?"

"Dejan, Dejan..."

Mancini impatiently pushed the reporters away and, along with Vialli, helped Dejan Lu into the car.

These bastards really knew how to hit a nerve. He had been suspended for four games, just like Dunga.

Mancini suspected the Italian Football Federation was doing it on purpose, stemming from his failure to apologize three years ago after he and his national teammates had left their accommodation without permission.

"Everyone wanted to throw you a party, but the coach said to keep it low-key," Vialli said as he sat in the back seat with Dejan Lu. "We decided to hold it after the match against Dortmund."

Immediately after playing Juventus, it was the fourth round of the group stage, and this time it was a home game.

"I'm fine, but a celebration is good too. I'll pay for it," Dejan Lu said.

Vialli, the rare rich second-generation, didn't offer to cover everything.

He, along with Mancini, became the "money-spending boy."

Vialli suspected that if this continued, Dejan Lu's side income from playing cards would exceed his salary.

One day, when Mancini got divorced, it would definitely be because this was discovered.

The two of them took Dejan Lu home, where Monica had already prepared a table full of food.

"You're so rich, why don't you buy yourself a mobile phone?" Mancini teased, watching Dejan Lu fiddle with his pager.

"I don't really like those things. A pager is enough," Dejan Lu replied.

He didn't want to carry a brick around all day.

Besides, cell phones weren't common yet, so what good would it be for you to have one? If you wanted to find someone, you'd still have to call their landline or page them.

"I also don't think those things are very good," Monica said as she brought the dishes to the table.

"See?" Dejan Lu said with a smile.

Federica looked at Vialli and said, "With a table full of people eating, you're the only single one. Don't you want to find a girlfriend? Should I introduce someone to you?"

"No thanks, I believe in fate," Vialli replied.

"Don't bother him, he doesn't need you to worry about him," Mancini interjected directly.

Federica rolled her eyes silently.

She always felt that Vialli and Mancini had a closer relationship.

The dinner lasted until past eleven o'clock before the two drunkards were sent off.

After washing up, Monica said, "I was wondering if I should stay at the school."

Dejan Lu sat up abruptly and turned to look at her. "It's not far from your school, is it? How about we buy a house near the school?"

Monica rolled her eyes prettily.

Was it about the distance?

It was about the distance between them.

She was finding it a bit overwhelming lately.

Monica tried to persuade him, "I heard players need to maintain their condition well before matches. How about we go to bed early today?"

"Okay, we'll finish up early."

"No, that's not what I meant..."

She quickly made up her mind; she would stay in the school dormitory at least a few days a week.

October 29th.

Alps Stadium.

Sampdoria had two tough away games in a row. It was hard to say if there was some malice involved here.

Fortunately, Moggi wasn't at Juventus during this period.

Otherwise, this would definitely not have been a fair match.

Serie A's darkest period was when the Seven Sisters began to decline. Moggi returned to Juventus from Rome and established an order in Serie A led by the Northern Three Powers.

Even without him, the Agnelli family's influence was still immense.

It's just that there was no one person.

to materialize this influence on the green pitch.

In the away locker room.

Boskov emphasized, "This is no easy opponent. Everyone, get your heads in the game. Dejan, you're on the roster today, but I don't plan on playing you. You can just watch from the sidelines."

"Okay, Coach,"

Dejan replied.

Whatever the coach said, went.

"Pay attention to that small guy on their frontline, Schillaci. That guy is really good at finding loopholes!" Boskov said, banging the tactical board forcefully.

"Alright, boss!"

Upon hearing the name, Dejan immediately recalled the story of this player.

Schillaci's story over the past two years had been nothing short of a fairy tale.

He should have been promoted to Serie A in the same year as the Football King. This guy was the top scorer in Serie B last season.

The most incredible thing was the Italian summer, where he scored in almost every game, becoming Italy's savior.

From Serie B to the national team, he had become the hottest forward in the Apennines in just over a year, surpassing all the big stars.

Even if he retired immediately afterward, he would still be a national hero.

This nascent legend, however, rapidly declined due to an extremely absurd incident – his wife had an affair with Lentini, which affected his performance on the field.

Schillaci, who had burst onto the scene, also rapidly faded within a little over a year. Not long after transferring to Inter Milan, he went to play in Japan, completely distancing himself from the place of sorrow.

Among so many Italian national players, perhaps only this man had a more miserable fate than Totti.

At 12 PM, the referee Carlo Longhi blew the whistle for the start of the match.

Juventus's coach was the legendary Italian goalkeeper Zoff.

After taking over as coach, he remained a staunch advocate of counter-attacking football, which was not uncommon.

However, Juventus's counter-attacking play did have its merits. Zoff instructed his players to reduce possession time and compress space, which significantly limited Sampdoria.

Especially with Mancini, the Number 9.5, missing, the team's offensive circulation encountered some problems.

In the 34th minute, Sergei Aleinikov successfully broke through Sampdoria's defense on a counter-attack and scored.

During halftime, Boskov paced back and forth in the locker room. Seeing this, Dejan stood up and said, "Coach, let me play. I think I can play today and find my form."

Boskov wanted to agree, but he still shook his head.

He had told Dejan to rest well before the game, and now, after 45 minutes, he was going to go back on his word? He couldn't do that.

However, after the start of the second half, Sampdoria's offense still showed little improvement. Giancarlo Marocchi's suffocating defense against Sampdoria was very successful, completely cutting off Sampdoria's midfield and forward connections.

When Dejan stood up again, Boskov finally agreed to his request to play.

Malawi.

This is the capital and the second-largest city.

But it is very desolate. Because Malawi is surrounded by three countries, even its natural resources are not very abundant.

Galliani finally found a restaurant that could show Serie A matches. He was looking forward to Dejan's serious injury, which would allow him to return to the Apennines sooner.

This restaurant was built by the colonialists.

When Dejan stepped onto the sidelines, Galliani elegantly stood up to pay the bill.

The rest of the match was meaningless to him.

He was very disappointed.

But even in adversity, he could not forget that he, Adriano Galliani, was a gentleman.

As he walked out the door, he saw several locals approaching him with ill intentions.

He had previously heard from the people at the office that this place was relatively safe, ranking in the top twenty in Africa.

The top twenty was indeed unreliable, but he hadn't expected that at just past 1 PM, such a thing would happen on the street.

He wasn't afraid of losing some money, but what if he got mugged?

Galliani, who was over 40, instantly displayed an agility that rivaled his youth. He darted towards a bicycle parked by the roadside.

He then remembered that he had specifically locked it. Galliani quickly lifted the bicycle and threw it at the three men, then turned and bolted. This was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of his life.

But he didn't dare to stop.

His life was on the line.

Run, Adriano, run!!!

Galliani silently cheered himself on.

He, Adriano Galliani, absolutely could not die in a country like this; he was going to make something of himself!

Running under the sun quickly made him break out in a sweat.

His head began to throb.

In a daze, Galliani seemed to see Milan streets filled with lilies.

Seeking monthly and recommendation tickets~