The Little Bird Says, "Good Morning, Good Morning"-Why Are You Carrying That on Your Back?

Rain kept falling, and the atmosphere was anything but harmonious.

Even as the home fans burned with enthusiasm, jumping and singing cheerful club songs.

The traveling Rossoneri still felt chilled to the bone.

People did not share one another's joys and sorrows. The Rossoneri only found them noisy.

Cruyff in the broadcast booth also remained silent.

No matter what, Dejan Lu had beaten three top-class players—two headers and one chipped touch—leaving Milan's three defenders without even touching the ball.

This had not been a high-speed run, but a series of quick touches in a tight space.

Compared to dribbling past several players, making Milan's world-class defenders look so helpless with only a few touches seemed even more shocking.

Even as a die-hard Milan supporter, his love for football made him want to applaud that goal.

Silence was his final act of defiance.

"Are you okay?"

Paolo Maldini walked over and asked.

"I'm not a child." Baresi smiled.

The collision with his teammate had made him look awkward this time, but the thirty-year-old Milan captain was far more mature than most people.

How many defenders could remain elegant throughout an entire match?

As long as they won, being covered in mud was fine.

"Sorry, I went forward just now," Costacurta said quietly.

Baresi smacked his arm hard and laughed as he cursed, "You bastard. As captain, I've never had the habit of making young players take responsibility. Billy, of course you should go forward when we attack."

Tassotti said nothing.

There was no real stir in his heart, either.

This was simply everyday life at AC Milan.

The members of the Round Table kept the team steady, and every one of them led by example.

"Pull yourselves together. It's only one goal. No matter how beautiful it was, it was still