Smack—
Dejan Lu had barely completed his turn when he flicked his ankle and whipped the ball away.
The pass had been far too well concealed. Vialli was a step slow off the mark, Baroni spread his legs and let the ball through, and Giuliani hurriedly threw himself down, pinning the ball firmly beneath him.
A chill breeze swept through.
Only then did Giuliani realize that his back was soaked with sweat.
Just a few minutes into the match, his emotions had already swung wildly up and down.
If football was always this thrilling, Giuliani suspected he would develop heart disease sooner or later.
"Are you all right, Mother?"
Harry noticed that his mother had nearly fallen and asked anxiously.
His older brother had been standing by the window without moving.
"I'm fine, darling. I'm just a little tired from standing," the lady said gently.
"All right, then sit down for a while."
After helping his mother sit down, Harry asked, "Mother, does this box smell strange?"
"Perhaps it wasn't cleaned properly."
The lady immediately said, unable to stop herself from blushing.
"Italians are so filthy," Harry complained.
"Italians are all useless!!!" Martin Tyler shouted in the broadcast booth. "If that had been Gary Lineker, he never would have missed such a wonderful pass. Even if it had been a young Alan Shearer, Napoli would already be two goals behind!"
"Relax, Martin. The match has only just begun," Jim Beglin advised.
"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?"
Martin Tyler shouted, "Dejan beat seven men, seven! He practically delivered the ball into the goal, yet his teammate let him down. Perhaps this is the greatest impact of Mancini's suspension."
"I don't think Vialli is necessarily worse than Mancini. As for strikers playing in Italy, Van Basten would probably