My body falls backward.
At the same time, I see the ball growing distant.
Suddenly, I think I need to practice headers more. A header, after all, only has its proper flavor when you smash it down hard—pow!
Because I was so focused on simply meeting the ball as it tried to pass over my head, my head tilts back and the ball floats softly away.
How could a sloppy header like this go in?
Swoooooosh-
If it doesn't go in, well, it's the coaches' fault.
They let me do everything else, but they never really let me practice headers.
Something about how doing a lot of headers since you were young makes you dumb or whatever.
I'm still being treated like a kid.
Compared to when I first came up, I've grown a lot taller, and now I have to shave every morning.
I guess once you're the youngest, you're the youngest forever.
Swoooooosh-
I see the goalkeeper reaching out with one hand toward the softly floating ball.
The ball is going so slowly that it seems like it should be easy to catch, so it's strange that the motion of his outstretched arm looks somehow unstable.
I suspect the cross came from one flank to the other, and in the process of getting set, he got caught in a reverse motion.
Romero's decision to choose a long cross was a good one.
Thud-!
I wanted to watch the ball until the end, but soon I land on my backside and see the sky.
And after rolling over once just like that, I look back inside the goal.
The ball should be in there…
…Ah.
It is.
This actually went in.
Waaaaaaaah-!!
A massive roar erupts as if crushing down on me.
At the same time, I see Romero punching the air as he runs toward me from afar.
I too jump up and run toward Romero.
My body moves on its own.
"Hey, you bastard!"
While running, Saponara catches me first.
And together, arms over each other's shoulders, we run.
Honestly, it might be closer to a headlock than having our arms around each other, but I don't have the mental energy to protest.
"Aaaaack!"
Romero too flies in like a flying squirrel and piles on.
Behind him, I see teammates who were warming up near the corner flag invading the pitch.
Soon, I feel the weight pressing down on my body increasing by one person, then two.
"Yaaaaaah!"
"He scored again!"
"You crazy bastard!"
…Heavy. I can't breathe.
I can't even guess how many people have piled on.
But the amazing thing was that my body was actually enduring that weight.
See?
I told you, I can start practicing headers now too.
I've grown big enough to bear the weight of our team.
*
[Ri! It's a hat-trick! He's firing in the third goal against Manchester City!]
[Unbelievable. Is this match really going this way? I had a feeling the atmosphere was strange, and now an upset has happened!]
If a Tyrannosaurus were to appear in the middle of the stadium, or if fist-sized hail started falling in the stands… perhaps this is the kind of spectacle that would unfold.
There was not a single spectator remaining seated.
If there were any, it was only the Man City fans in the away section.
Except for the Man City fans with expressions like puppies sensing an earthquake, everyone had left their seats.
Utter chaos.
On the Man City goal side, the spectators near where the Fiorentina players were celebrating had all poured down toward the front, putting the security guards in a difficult position.
The fans on the far side were at least hugging each other and holding dance parties or taking off their shirts and turning the stadium into a beach.
Pheeeew-!
Of course, celebratory fireworks couldn't be left out.
Crimson flames making exploding sounds rose here and there, making the stadium air pungent, and at the smoke, the Man City fans' faces furrowed even more.
It was literally a crucible of frenzy.
[The match isn't over yet! There is still plenty of time remaining, but the atmosphere at Artemio Franchi is already as if they've won the title!]
[What else matters? The fact that they've overturned it is what matters! Against Man City!]
One could say everyone is celebrating as if the match has already ended, and they might be too happy when it hasn't even finished yet.
But at this point, the result might not have been what mattered.
In the first leg, the fighting spirit and pride the players showed certainly gave hope for the second leg.
Even so, most thought the second leg would be difficult.
One could say they had expectations, but their hearts were somewhat empty.
It couldn't be helped.
The score was one thing, but in terms of substance, it had been an overwhelmingly difficult match.
The 90 minutes of the first leg had been far too long for anyone cheering for Fiorentina.
It was only because of a player named I Jian that they endured and watched with a sliver of hope. Without even that, even the most passionate fans might have turned off the broadcast and just checked the result.
So they thought the second leg would be difficult too.
Of course, some fans believed the dynamics would change since it was at home, but their opponent Man City was a team with far more experience than Fiorentina.
Having played away matches more than once or twice, it was hard to expect their performance to suddenly change just because it was an away game.
The 'Guardiola's great-coach syndrome,' an element worth pinning hopes on as much as I Jian, was also something that only appeared from the quarterfinals and up, so it was hard to expect.
Thus, most fans who came to the stadium did so merely hoping the team would fight well enough.
Yes.
Just having come this far, just having made it to the knockout stage and being able to watch two more matches was enough to be thankful to the squad.
At the very least, the biggest hope was that they wouldn't look helpless and would show some fight at home, since it was their home ground.
If they didn't lose embarrassingly, the fans were ready to applaud without hesitation.
But wait, what was this?
Hadn't something unbelievable happened right before their eyes?
Even now, the fans were doubting their eyes, wondering if the scoreboard had malfunctioned.
57:32
FIO 3 : 0 MCI
3-0.
They had overturned it.
The first leg score was 2-4, so at this moment, the aggregate score was 5-4.
With monstrous strength that defied belief, they had lifted the massive boulder called Man City.
It was clearly an exaggeration, but many fans felt that even if they died at this moment, they would have no regrets.
Well, who knew what would happen next.
There was still plenty of time left, and while it could end like this, Man City could stubbornly flip the game again.
But they didn't care how the immediate mood turned out.
That fact alone was what mattered.
They had shown themselves overturning a 2-goal deficit against Man City.
It showed what kind of team Fiorentina was.
Even the process—well, it wasn't like they had their guards up to their eyebrows, threw wild haymakers while running, and got lucky.
Hadn't they shown themselves looking properly, aiming, and landing the punch?
They also showed that they had a jewel of a player who didn't envy Man City with their astronomical market values in the slightest.
They were proud.
The fact that they were Fiorentina supporters, and even that they lived in Florence, was so incomparably prideful that it felt satisfying.
At least the fans watching this match right now could swear to guard the stands until death.
So it was enough.
What did it matter what the result would be, or who would advance to the quarterfinals?
They were already feeling joy as great as having won the title.
Ahi ahi ahi-!
Magica Viola-!!
È triste il mio cuore lontano Da te-!
Magica Viola alè-!!
Fiorentina's chants, starting from the mouths of one or two people, spread like a wildfire across a field in an instant and began to make the stadium ring thunderously.
Ahi ahi ahi-!
Magica Viola-!!
È triste il mio cuore lontano Da te-!
Magica Viola alè-!!
Men, women, young and old—without exception—everyone sang the same chant with one voice, heads thrown back.
Whether they were seeing each other for the first time or not, everyone put their arms around each other and raised their hoarse voices.
Everyone looked different and came from different backgrounds.
But at this very moment, they breathed the same air, felt the same joy, and sang the same chant.
Now that they shared this memory of this very moment until death, everyone could be united under the name of Fiorentina supporter, Viola.
"Ahi…! ah… hi…!"
"Magica…! Viola…!"
The sound of the chant filling the stadium gradually grew damp.
It was because many fans eventually couldn't hold back and burst into tears.
*
Man City, now trailing 0-3, began to come out more aggressively in the 19th minute of the second half, substituting Grealish off for Julián Álvarez.
Not only did they increase the number of goal-scorers, but they took on the form of an all-out attack, raising their line to the point where Stones, a center-back, came up like a playmaker.
In the 25th minute, Rodri, the last remaining defensive midfielder, was taken out and Riyad Mahrez was brought in.
Like an improper fraction, Man City began to thrust forward relentlessly with no regard for the back, their attacking camp completely saturated.
Meanwhile, Fiorentina's bench couldn't move easily.
Even though most players were showing physical limits, they couldn't readily make changes.
This current composition was the only combination capable of producing 200 percent or more performance.
They also wanted to let everyone run until the end.
Of course, they knew it was an irrational choice, but all their faces said so.
Should one say it felt like if they were taken out now, they would become enemies for life?
In many ways, it wasn't a situation where substitutions could be taken lightly.
In fact, cracks had been forming in the defense for a while now.
They were just forcibly plugging it to keep the water from leaking out. The water with nowhere to leak continued to accumulate, and its weight was growing heavier to the point of being unbearable.
Crack, crack.
Through the cracked defensive wall, one drop, two drops.
Water began to leak.
And eventually, gush, gush, gush.
It finally burst around the 30th minute.
[Man City has a monster striker, Erling Haaland! He rams in De Bruyne's corner kick with a ruthless header! The match is back to square one!]
[Fiorentina has held out really well, but in the end, they couldn't keep out that one goal.]
[If it turns out like this, they need to aim for another goal, but is it possible?]
[The overall energy level has dropped too much. Honestly, the pressure must have been considerable from the start of the match. Having to overcome a 2-goal difference, everyone must have been forced to overpace themselves. The aftereffects are showing now.]
It's difficult to get ahead of a Man City playing normally.
Let alone going ahead by one goal, even taking control of the match isn't easy.
Moreover, Fiorentina had been fighting with their lives on the line from the start of the first half to overturn the two-goal deficit.
That things would turn out this way was a foreseeable fact.
So in the early second half, they had come out offensively instead.
Even though they succeeded in adding one more goal that way, the inevitable crash couldn't be prevented.
Still, at least it was still tied.
That tied state continued until about 5 minutes remained in the second half, and the fight at 5-5 persisted.
Now it seemed the series' fate would be decided by a single goal, and in such a situation, it wouldn't be strange for a miracle to occur.
A miracle had already happened once—who's to say it couldn't happen twice?
[Silva, long to the right. Riyad Mahrez safely controls it.]
[He's going to dribble in.]
[He dribbles in! Biraghi can't keep up! Exposing a crisis on the right, Fiorentina!]
But if miracles happened often in the first place, they wouldn't be called miracles.
Fiorentina was a very clean team, a team with players of normal physiques.
There were no miracles that could make unmoving feet move.
[Mahrez, Mahrez!]
[Riyad Mahrez-!!!]
As in countless histories.
As if there were some law, the one who appears at the end and plunges in the dagger is always someone slightly random.
The one who plunged the dagger into the heaving heart of Fiorentina was Riyad Mahrez, who had come on as a substitute.
Biraghi, who had blocked the left side like an iron wall throughout the match, couldn't stop Mahrez's breakthrough.
But no one could blame him.
Even in a situation where Mahrez had already passed him and gone far ahead, Biraghi was crawling on the ground trying to follow.
3-2.
Even in that situation, the scoreboard still showed Fiorentina ahead, but it was Man City who regained smiles of relief.
[Four minutes of added time are given. Not very long.]
[Three minutes remain.]
[Two minutes of added time remaining now.]
[One minute left. A situation where every second is precious. But Haaland is frustratingly doing well to kill time.]
[The referee has put the whistle to his lips. This Man City attack seems like it will be the last… ah!]
Beep, beeeep, beeeeep-!
When the three whistles finally rang out across the ground.
A spectacular sight unfolded as all eleven players wearing Fiorentina uniforms collapsed simultaneously.
To the point that it was amazing they had been running around just moments ago, they simply collapsed and panted for breath, unable to think of moving.
The ones who ran to those players first were the players on the bench.
Players who had been watching the match with pained faces, hands clasped, grabbed towels and drinks and ran to the players as soon as the whistle blew.
Coach Vincenzo too quickly shook hands with Coach Guardiola and then ran to check on the players' conditions.
And he hugged each one tightly and patted their backs hard.
Meanwhile, continuously…
Ahi ahi ahi-!
Magica Viola-!!
È triste il mio cuore lontano Da te-!
Magica Viola alè-!!
Fiorentina's chant continued to ring out across the stadium without stopping even once.
No one was regretting anything.
Neither the match nor wearing the Fiorentina uniform.