The tension inside Stadio Via del Mare had reached a knife-edge after Lookman's stunning equalizer, the air itself vibrating with the noise of the away fans. The Atalanta supporters, newly energized, roared with unfiltered venom from the corner of the stadium, their flags a restless wave of blue and black, their chants stabbing into the humid Lecce evening like iron nails.
The commentary box was buzzing, voices trembling with excitement, spitting out words soaked in the weight of history, every mention of Alex Walker's name dragging the ghosts of his playing career out of the past like reluctant shadows. His 30 goals against Atalanta had become folklore, a legend recited even here in Italy, each mention an incantation that made the crowd hiss and jeer.
But on the touchline, the man himself didn't flinch.