The dressing room was unusually quiet for a European semifinal halftime. No music. No shouting. Just the low, constant hum of ventilation and the soft shuffle of boots against tile. A staff member moved methodically between benches, handing out hydration bottles, murmuring reminders. The medical team followed behind, kneeling briefly in front of players, squeezing calves, asking quick questions, checking eyes and breathing. No one was injured. That almost made it worse.
They were level on the night, but still two goals down in the tie. Forty-five minutes left. No margin.
