"Here's what we're going to do in the second half."
The words rang out clearly in the dressing room.
David sat up slightly, his eyes lifting toward Ten Hag, but his thoughts were a world away. His ears had heard the words, yes — but it was everything leading up to that moment that had him reeling.
Before the coach had spoken, Ronaldo had. The man, the legend, had stood up, pacing with that familiar, impossible energy, the fire in his voice somehow still as fresh as it had been a decade ago. He'd spoken passionately, not yelling, but not far from it either. Encouraging, calling for more, asking for fight. Making jokes to ease the tension — the kind only Ronaldo could get away with. And David had listened, watched, heart pounding. He admired him. Who didn't?
Then Ten Hag stepped forward and interrupted with a calm but firm, "Okay, okay, Ronaldo. We understand."
