The Paradox

The hotel corridors were still dark when Alex Walker slipped into his tracksuit, the fabric whispering against his skin as he moved with quiet purpose. He walked slowly at first, not because he was tired, but because the silence gave him something he rarely had these days, peace. The weight of tonight's quarter-final match at San Siro pressed against his shoulders like an invisible hand, but in this early hour, before the world stirred, there was clarity. He needed it. No chaos, no drama, just the rhythmic sound of his sneakers on carpet and the steady beat of his heart.

He had promised himself something that morning. No more surprises this week. No changes to the plan, no last-minute gambles. He wanted calm. He wanted routine. He wanted control.

But before anything else, he needed to wake his players.