I Coach Football With A System
Chapter 68: A Magical Night

Chapter 68: A Magical Night

Back in the locker room, the atmosphere was pure chaos. Not the bad kind, but the loud and beautiful kind, the kind that only comes after surviving hell and walking out with all your limbs and three points to show for it. Music blasted from someone’s speaker in the corner, completely drowning out whatever playlist Alex had tried to approve earlier. Shirts were off, boots were scattered like shrapnel across the floor, and someone had cracked open a bottle of champagne from God knows where. Banda, barefoot and shirtless, was dancing on top of one of the benches like he had just won the lottery.

Laughter echoed off the tile walls, overlapping with shouts and chants in Italian, English, and whatever else the boys could think of. The smell of sweat, wet grass, liniment, and something like triumph hung in the air like a storm cloud full of glory. A few players were pretending to be commentators, reenacting Krstović’s penalty in slow motion, complete with sound effects and dramatic flops. One of them even did a theatrical fall like Dorgu had in the box, arms flailing and all.

Alex Walker stood near the door, leaning against the frame, equal parts laughing and completely drained. His hair was damp with sweat, his collar was open, and his eyes had that tired shine only a man who had lived through ninety minutes of football madness could carry.

He barely had a second to catch his breath before a familiar face appeared around the door. Isabella. Her head poked in slowly, like she was afraid of being hit with a flying boot or a stray champagne cork.

"You have press," she said, slicing through the madness like a scalpel.

Alex groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Do I have to?"

She raised a brow in that way she always did when she wasn’t taking no for an answer. "You won. You have to talk about it. And bring Krstović. He’s man of the hour."

Alex exhaled like she’d just handed him a hundred-pound dumbbell. He scanned the room and spotted Krstović being hoisted into the air by two of the defenders, grinning like a man who had just won the lottery.

"Oi," Alex called, jerking his head toward the door.

Krstović caught the signal and laughed, mouthing, "Now?"

Alex nodded. "Now."

The striker dropped down and weaved through the bodies, still red-faced and slick with sweat. He looked like a boxer who had gone twelve rounds and won on points. As they stepped out into the corridor, Isabella was waiting, properly this time, standing tall and composed.

She gave Alex a quick hug. "That was magic," she said, and her voice had that breathy quality it always had when she was truly moved. Then she turned to Krstović, who was still shirtless and glowing like he’d just stepped out of a sports drink ad.

"You might want to wear something," she said with a little chuckle.

Krstović blinked, looked down, then laughed and pulled a training top from around his waist. He gave Alex a cheeky thumbs-up behind Isabella’s back. Who knew the gaffer had this much pull, he thought.

They walked down the hall, their footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. The noise from the locker room faded behind them, growing more distant with every step. The corridor felt cooler, quieter, almost sacred in a way. It was the transition from chaos to calm, from emotion to explanation.

Then came the lights.

A dozen camera flashes hit them as they entered the press room. Reporters were already seated, recorders set, pens in hand, eyes wide. Some clapped politely. Others whispered among themselves. Alex took the front seat first, posture a little too straight, like a man trying not to show how tired he really was. Krstović followed, still catching his breath and unsure if he was allowed to smile.

The press moderator stepped up, giving the nod.

"Questions for Coach Walker and Nikola Krstović," he said.

The journalists did not need a second invitation.

A man in a beige jacket leaned forward eagerly. "Alex, what would you call tonight?"

Alex took a slow breath, scratched the stubble along his jaw, and smiled. "A magic night. That is what it was. Just magic."

Another hand shot up. A woman this time, voice sharp. "Was there ever a moment when you thought you had lost it?"

Alex didn’t dodge the question. He paused, considered, then answered. "I would be lying if I said no. But I told the boys at halftime, we are winners. And winners win. That is what I said."

A third reporter leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Nikola, walk us through that penalty."

Krstović rubbed the back of his neck, a bit shy under the spotlight. "Honestly? I was not thinking too much. Just hit it clean. I have missed some before, but tonight, I just believed."

Someone near the front chimed in, "You looked emotional."

Krstović gave a sheepish shrug and a grin that stretched ear to ear. "Can you blame me? We knocked out AC Milan at the San Siro."

That broke the room. A few laughs, some even clapped. Even Alex chuckled.

Another hand, another question. "Alex, people are calling this the start of something special. Do you agree?"

Alex took a longer pause this time. He looked up, his eyes steady. "I think it is a special night. I think what comes next is up to us. But tonight? Let the boys dream. They earned it."

The moderator gave the subtle wrap-up signal.

"Last question," he said.

A young reporter, barely older than the players, spoke nervously. "Will Luca Ferretti start the next match?"

Alex smiled again. Tired, proud, the weight of leadership never quite leaving his shoulders. "If you are good enough, you are old enough. That has always been my stance."

With that, the moderator stood. The lights dimmed. Microphones went silent. The room didn’t go quiet, not fully, but the intensity faded like the final whistle.

Krstović leaned over. "You really do believe in us, huh?"

Alex clapped a hand on his back. "Always have. Tonight just proved I was right."

They stood, chairs scraping quietly across the floor, and walked out of the room.

The tunnel was quieter now. But the echoes of a magic night still danced through the halls.

A night they would never forget.

A/N: second Chapter of the day. Just the bonus Chapter remaining now

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