Team Bonding?

The next morning arrived far too early.

Or at least, that was how it felt for everyone on Lecce's squad.

The early hours crept in like a thief, silent and merciless, dragging sore bodies and foggy minds out of bed. Celebration, it turned out, had a price. And while none of the players regretted the laughter, the dancing, or the fizzy Gatorade toasts, it made waking up feel like an extreme sport. One by one, the players trickled out of their rooms, faces puffy from sleep, hair in chaos, voices raw from yelling.

Normally, they would have already been on a flight by now, heading back to Lecce with stiff necks and airplane breakfasts. That had been the original plan. Early morning flight, back in town by lunch, training the next day.

But sometime around midnight, while watching Banda perform a slow-motion cannonball into the hotel pool, Alex had sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and muttered the words that saved them all.