24 Via Durini, Min.

  In the spacious feren, a rge s was broadcasting the high-stakes match taking p Naples, southern Italy.

  The expressions of those gathered in the room were grim.

  At the head of the table sat Inter Min's president, Massimo Moratti.

  Seated alongside him were his son and current vice-chairman of the club, Angelo Moratti, the chief operating officer Ero Paolillo, and former Inter Min star Luis Suárez, a close friend of Moratti.

  The room was silent except for the voice of the entator narrating the game.

  "Tonight, Inter's performance is even more humiliating than their ret away loss to Liverpool.

  "Mani's team has managed just one shot iire first half—an off-bance, desperate le effort close to the 40-minute mark, which was pletely iive.

  "Inter Min has been thhly dominated by Napoli.

  "Napoli is putting on a stunning dispy of high-pressure football tonight, even more intehan Liverpool's.

  "From their attag trident of i, Di Maria, and Sao their midfield and bae, Napoli is applyiless pressure across the ech. Inter Min simply 't string together meaningful passes, let alone create real sg opportunities.

  "To trast, Napoli has registered a staggering 16 shots on goal so far. Their performance has been absolutely ical."

  As the entator tio praise Napoli, the atmosphere in the feren grew heavier.

  Massimo Moratti sniffled and adjusted his gsses, as if trying to ceal his emotions.

  "What… what do you all think?" Moratti finally broke the silence, his voice low and solemn.

  The men in the room exged uneasy gnces. No one wao be the first to speak.

  Inter Min's teical direarco Branca, and transfer sultant, Gabriele Oriali, had both traveled with the team to Naples, leaving the remaining executives to deliberate alone.

  Suárez, as Moratti's personal advisor, was also present but remained quiet.

  Sensing the awkwardness, Angelo Moratti cleared his throat. "ge the coach, Dad!"

  ge the coach.

  It wasn't a new suggestion for Inter Min.

  Siaking over the club, Massimo Moratti had developed a reputation for dismissing coaches without hesitation, even high-profile figures like Marcello Lippi hadn't been spared.

  But this time, it was different.

  Moratti hesitated.

  For years, people had advised him that Mani wasn't the right man to lead Inter Min. They cimed that Mani didn't have what it took t the club to the pinnacle of European football.

  Yet Moratti had persisted, vihat the best Italian coach was the one who could guide Inter Min to Champions League glory.

  But Mani had disappointed him time and time again.

  Yes, Inter Min had dominated Serie A under Mani, and those victories had reignited Moratti's hopes again and again.

  But those hopes had been shattered just as frequently.

  In the past few years, Moratti had spared no expense, fully bag Mani and iing heavily in the squad. Yet the return on that iment had been underwhelming.

  "Dad, it's clear as day: Mani has reached his ceiling with this team. Winning the Serie A title is his limit, and even that's slipping away this season!" Angelo Moratti's frustration was evident.

  Angelo was younger and more ambitious than his father. His temper fred easily, and he was unwilling to settle for mediocrity.

  He wasn't just another Moratti, he was the third geion of the family to oversee Inter Min, and he had his own vision for the club.

  "The tennial celebration, Dad—we've been pnning it for so long. And now it's all about to fall apart!"

  His words struck a nerve.

  Massimo Moratti, too, felt the weight of failure.

  He had pced his trust in so many pyers and coaches over the years, yet he was still chasing the same dream.

  He didn't want much, just one Champions League title. One European triumph was all he desired before he passed the torch to the geion.

  Why was that so difficult?

  "Ero, what's your opinion?" Moratti turo the chief operating officer.

  "To be ho, I'm disappointed as well," Ero Paolillo admitted. "I think Mani has done all he with this team. It's been three years without any real progress. The squad is aging, and if we don't achieve something now, the window will close. And ohat happens, it'll take years and signifit iment to rebuild."

  Three years.

  How many "three years" does a professional pyer's career have?

  Inter Min's current squad was nearing its expiration date. Without results, the team would o be overhauled costing Moratti not just money, but precious time.

  Moratti turo his old friend Suárez and gave him a faint smile. "What do you think?"

  At seventy-two years old, Suárez was a legend of the game, and his insight remained sharp.

  "In this match, Mani has been pletely outcoached by Gao Shen," Suárez stated bluntly.

  Moratti shook his head, smiling bitterly.

  Who would have believed this a few years ago?

  Roberto Mani a celebrated former Italian pyer and the manager of Serie A's reigning champions was being thhly outcssed by a 27-year-old.

  But tonight, at the San Paolo Stadium in Naples, in front of hundreds of media outlets and tless fans worldwide, Gao Shen had turned Inter Min into a pung bag.

  Every goal Napoli scored felt like a dagger to Moratti's heart.

  "I've heard it said more than ohat Gao Shen's football represents the future," Moratti mused, his toral.

  "To be ho, after watg football for so many years, I still don't fully uand it. Why does Sacchi, and so many others, believe in him so much?"

  Before the match, the broadcast cameras had panned across the stands, capturing the presence of legendary figures like Trapattoni, Lippi, Sacchi, Cruyff, and Valdano.

  They had all e to withis match, yet what they saw was nothing short of a massacre.

  "Suárez," Moratti tinued, his voice tinged with uainty. "Do you think Gao Shen really represents the future of football?"

  Suárez could sehe hesitation in his friend's voice.

  "For now, I'd say only the likes of Maer United, Chelsea, or Liverpool could pete with Napoli."

  "Why?"

  "They have the best pyers and the best coaches. Inter Min only has good pyers."

  "And the Spanish teams?"

  "Bara is in turmoil," Suárez replied. "As for Real Madrid, they haven't recovered to the level they were at when Gao Shen was in charge. That's why their fans still miss him, even though they once criticized him for being too servative."

  Suárez chuckled softly at the irony.

  "Do you thihe best coa the world?" Moratti pressed.

  "I don't know," Suárez admitted. "He's still young. But based on his results and the way his teams py, I'd say he's already halfway there."

  It was high praise especially for a 27-year-old.

  One foot in the door of being the best coa the world? What more o be said?

  "I have to warn you, Massimo," Suárez added. "A is close to signing Ronaldinho, and Bara will hold on to Messi. Once Ronaldinho joins Min, Serie A will bee even more petitive."

  Moratti sighed deeply. He had already made up his mind but was relut to act.

  "Let him finish the season," he said finally.

  The room fell silent.

  Everyone—Angelo Moratti, Ero Paolillo, and even Suárez looked disappointed.

  ging the coaow would send a strong signal. It would shake things up, boost morale, and possibly eveabilize Napoli. But Moratti's hesitation could cost Inter Min dearly.

  As the executives silently pohe decision, the entator's voice suddenly rose iement.

  It was stoppage time in the first half.

  Napoli unched an attack down the right fnk, but the ball was intercepted.

  Maxwell gained possession but was immediately pressed by Sanchez, who forced him to pass to Qiu.

  Before Qiu could react, i surged forward, blog his clearance.

  The deflected ball arced high into the air, nding on the right wing.

  Lichtsteiner rushed forward, judged the ball's trajectory, and headed it back toward the ter.

  Hamsik arrived at the edge of the penalty area, chesting the ball down.

  He spun sharply, faced Cesar, and struck a powerful shot—

  Targeting the left side of the goal!

  ***

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