As time passed, Notts County's offensive onslaught grew more ferocious, while Juventus shifted into a defensive stance. It seemed that veteran manager Marcello Lippi was using the spirited Notts County attack as a stress test for Juventus' defensive capabilities.
David, watching from the stands, didn't know whether he should be proud or frustrated. The fact that Notts County was compelling Juventus to take them seriously felt like a victory in itself. But he couldn't help but dream of his team scoring another goal—even if this was only a warm-up match.
In the final minutes of the match, even Westman, usually stationed deep defensively, pushed forward and joined the attacking line. It was clear to everyone: this was Notts County's last chance to upset the balance.
On the left flank, Iniesta dazzled the crowd with his fluid dribbling. Each time he touched the ball, Juventus sent two defenders to contain him—a rare level of respect for a player from a third-tier team.
But even double-marking wasn't enough to dispossess Iniesta. Despite his youth and relative inexperience, his technical prowess left Juventus defenders chasing shadows, though his game-reading ability was still nascent compared to his future self.
Lilian Thuram, an experienced and decorated defender, grew increasingly irritated by Iniesta's dancing runs. Weary from preseason preparation and with his physical condition far from optimal, Thuram's mounting frustration boiled over.
When Iniesta dared to dribble past him yet again, Thuram lunged recklessly, catching only the young Spaniard's legs and sending him tumbling to the ground.
The whistle blew. The referee awarded Notts County a free kick in a dangerous position, just outside the penalty area.
The clock ticked toward full time. This free kick would likely be Notts County's last opportunity to equalize against one of Europe's most storied clubs.
Alonso stepped forward, the weight of the team's hopes resting squarely on his shoulders. His intense focus and calm demeanor turned heads in the crowd. Players crowded the penalty area, jostling for position, while the atmosphere inside the stadium grew tense. The moment seemed frozen in time.
From David's seat, mixed feelings swirled within him. Alonso was Notts County's best free-kick taker, but David regretted not prioritizing free-kick specialists during his recruitment. It was a rare oversight in building the squad.
Beside David, the Juventus Vice Chairman, who had been wearing a faintly dismissive smile throughout the match, now sat rigidly, his face marked with uneasy anticipation.
What had started as a predictable warm-up was now a test of nerve.
If Notts County scored this free kick, Juventus—a Serie A giant—would tie with this unknown team from England's League Two. It would undoubtedly dominate news headlines the next day, casting a shadow over Juventus' stature while fueling criticism about Zidane's departure and the team's perceived drop in quality.
All eyes, including those of Buffon, turned to Alonso. Buffon shouted instructions to his defensive wall, barking commands with the authority of the world's most expensive goalkeeper. This penalty would pit one of football's greatest shot-stoppers against a young Spanish maestro.
Alonso blocked out the noise of the crowd. He couldn't hear the chants, the cheers, or the jeers. All that mattered now was the ball in front of him. For a brief moment, nothing else existed.
Taking a deep breath, Alonso stepped back, waiting for the referee's whistle.
The signal came. Alonso surged forward, his movements deliberate, before striking the ball cleanly with his instep.
The ball rose and curved through the air, bending around the wall in a brilliant arc. It sailed into the top corner, a theoretical dead zone unreachable even for an elite goalkeeper like Buffon.
Goal!
The crowd froze in disbelief before erupting into chaos. Knotts County, an unassuming side from England's third division, had equalized against Juventus in the dying moments of the match.
Alonso ran toward the corner with fists clenched, unleashing a primal roar of triumph. His teammates chased after him, knocking him down in their jubilant celebration. This wasn't just a goal—it was a validation of all their hard work, a sign that they belonged on a stage of this magnitude.
By contrast, the players of Juventus looked shaken. The equalizing goal at the very end left their expressions blank, their pride dented.
If David hadn't been confined to the box, he would have sprinted onto the pitch to join the pile-up of celebrating players. Watching the joy on his team's faces, he knew that this was why he had ventured into football—not just to manage a club, but to build something truly spectacular.
Juventus' Vice Chairman finally broke the silence. His earlier smugness was replaced with a newfound respect for the Magpies. Shaking David's hand, he offered an earnest smile.
"I have to admit," he said, "your team is remarkable. The English League Two clearly isn't where they belong. Perhaps one day, we'll meet again in the European competitions."
David felt his chest swell with pride. "Thank you," he replied warmly. "I hope that day comes sooner than later."
Following the game, Low announced a well-earned break. The players were free to explore Turin and recharge after the mentally and physically taxing match. It was many players' first time abroad, and a day off would help alleviate fatigue from warm-ups and summer training.
Meanwhile, in Turin, the buzz around the 4-4 draw was electric. The Italian press scrutinized Juventus' performance, questioning whether ties like this hinted at deeper issues within the club. But for David, this scrutiny was irrelevant—Juventus' problems were their own.
What mattered was that Notts County had shown they could stand toe-to-toe with a footballing giant.
David had intended to explore Turin's sights but was interrupted by an unexpected lunch invitation from Juventus' chairman, the infamous Luciano Moggi.
David didn't trust the man. Moggi, notorious for his controversial involvement in Italian football scandals, struck David as someone with ulterior motives.
Nevertheless, curiosity and intrigue compelled him to accept.
When David arrived at the high-end restaurant, Moggi already exuded the aura of a consummate businessman, his polished appearance differing greatly from the image of a disgraced "Calciopoli conspirator" David remembered from his past life.
After exchanging pleasantries, the conversation inevitably turned to football.
"Notts County is magnificent," Moggi began smoothly, sipping his red wine. "It's unbelievable that you managed to tie Juventus. Even without Zidane, we are still Serie A's elite."
David smiled politely, refusing to be lulled into complacency. Moggi's compliments felt less genuine and more calculated.
"I believe our two clubs, both with rich traditions, could establish deeper cooperation," Moggi continued, adopting a practiced tone. "Our Vivono youth academy has countless untapped talents. Though not ready for Serie A, they could certainly help your team reach the Championship or higher. We could loan several players to Notts County. Establishing such a partnership would benefit both clubs greatly."
As Moggi leaned slightly forward, his tone turned somewhat persuasive.
David, however, remained silent, refusing to betray any thoughts.
Was this generosity—or another layer of Luciano Moggi's trademark scheming?