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... was crisp, clear, and bright, but because of the weight it carried. It was matchday. It was Fiorentina. A clash that went beyond tactics or form. It was grit, identity, and the moment that would prove whether Lecce could stand toe‑to‑toe with the giants.

Alex paced inside the locker room, back straight, arms folded across his chest. Everything else was still. No chatter, no music, no bursting energy. Just the smell of liniment, fresh kit, and the quiet sound of breathing. He took a deep ...

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