The locker room hummed with a subdued sense of victory—not the wild celebration of a season-defining moment, but the satisfied buzz of professionals who had overcome a tough challenge. Players peeled off sweaty jerseys, comparing bruises and reliving key moments in quiet conversations.
Squillaci winced as the physio pressed an ice pack to his thigh. "Laslandes doesn't jump; he climbs," he said to Rodriguez, who was examining a nasty scratch on his forearm.
Across the room, Giuly sat with his captain's armband still on, watching everything with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. His goal—the derby winner—had been clinical, but it was his leadership throughout that had steadied Monaco during the challenging first half.
Demien moved through the space methodically, exchanging brief words with each player. No grand speeches, no performative praise—just specific observations and personal adjustments, the kind of targeted feedback that built trust over time.
