Sunday, August 1st, 2022 - Stamford Bridge, London
The away dressing room was smaller than Demien expected, functional rather than impressive, with blue lockers lining the walls and white kits hanging from numbered pegs.
He found his spot near the back corner. Number 28. The shirt looked crisp and new, the Atalanta crest embroidered perfectly on the chest, and his name sat above the number in capital letters.
WALTER 28
He touched the fabric once, then sat down on the bench beneath it.
Around him, the squad settled into their pre-match routine. Some players stretched on the floor, others taped ankles or adjusted shin guards, and a few sat quietly with headphones on while staring at nothing.
Moretti claimed the peg beside Demien's. Number 31. He grinned wide as he pulled his substitute's bib over his head.
"We made it," Moretti whispered. "Actually made it."
"Yeah," Demien said, and his stomach tightened because being here and playing here were different things.
