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/Chapter 27 – Manager's Arrival/

Just as we were talking and waiting for the second half, someone waved at us from across the stands, shouting our names.

"Oiii! Squadra! Over here!"

We turned, and I immediately recognized the voice. It was our manager — or as we always called him, simply "Manager." None of us ever used his real name.

His actual name was Takeshi Moretti, a perfect blend of his Japanese and Italian heritage. An odd combination, sure, but it fit him — just like his always-tidy polo shirts, tucked in perfectly, and his ever-adjusted rectangular glasses.

Takeshi wasn't older than any of us, maybe 23, 24 tops. But he had this old soul energy, like someone who'd already seen too much in a spreadsheet. He worked as a data analysis intern in a corporate logistics firm, and although his pay was modest, he used it to sponsor our jerseys, balls, even paid for tournament registration once.

A nerd with a heart of gold.