February 1, 2004 — Torino vs. AC Milan
The morning fog over Turin clung to the mountains like breath on glass. In the heart of the city, Stadio delle Alpi stood like a cold colosseum, its gates wrapped in early frost, its silence swelling in anticipation.
Luca Bellini laced his boots slowly, deliberately. The locker room around him hummed with a calm tension. Gattuso muttered under his breath, bouncing lightly on his heels. Kaká sat cross-legged, headphones on, eyes closed. Maldini spoke quietly with Ancelotti in the corner.
Bellini's journal had remained shut for days. Not out of fear. Out of protection.
The previous week had been madness. TV interviews. Sponsorship proposals. A request to feature on the cover of *France Football*. Even a surprise mention from Platini, who called him "the most mature 19-year-old defender Europe has seen in a generation."
He didn't know how to process it.
At Milanello, the staff tried to keep things grounded. But Pirlo noticed the strain.
"It's alright to listen," he said during training. "Just don't forget where the noise ends."
Now, Luca adjusted his shin pads, glanced over at Kaká, and mouthed, "Let's play."
—
Lineups:
AC Milan retained their winning formula: Dida in goal. Maldini on the left, Luca and Nesta in central defense, Cafu on the right. Midfield trio of Pirlo, Gattuso, and Seedorf. Kaká supporting Shevchenko and Inzaghi.
Torino lined up in a compact 4-3-2-1: Sorrentino in goal; Comotto, Franceschini, Delli Carri, and Castellini across the back. A gritty midfield led by Scarchilli, with Mudingayi and Conticchio in support. Ferrante sat just behind Lucarelli and Quagliarella.
The commentators called it a test of Milan's professionalism.
—
From kickoff, Torino pressed.
Minute 4: Mudingayi tackled Pirlo early, drawing gasps. Gattuso retaliated minutes later, earning a warning.
Minute 10: Cafu made a run. Cross was blocked.
Minute 14: Shevchenko drifted wide. A pass inside to Kaká, who chipped into the box. Inzaghi leapt. Header — saved.
Minute 17: corner Milan.
Pirlo delivered. Luca made his move.
This time, Torino marked him tightly. He leapt, but couldn't meet it clean.
Minute 21: Nesta stepped forward to intercept, but lost control. Ferrante took a touch — shot.
Blocked.
By Bellini.
Again.
"He reads danger like a prophet," came the commentator's voice.
—
Minute 28: Seedorf unleashed a rocket. Saved.
Minute 30: foul on Kaká. Free kick. Pirlo curved it.
Shevchenko ran across the near post — flicked it.
GOAL.
0–1 Milan.
—
Torino responded with urgency.
Minute 35: Lucarelli forced Dida into a save.
Minute 39: Bellini cleared a dangerous cross, then orchestrated the back line's reset with quiet command.
Minute 44: Kaká danced through midfield. Through to Inzaghi.
Slide tackle by Castellini. Last man.
Red card.
Halftime.
—
In the dressing room, Ancelotti kept his speech minimal.
"They'll bunker. Use patience. Not panic."
—
Second half.
With Torino down to 10, Milan stretched play wide.
Minute 51: Cafu to Seedorf. Inside to Kaká. Out to Maldini. Cross — just over Inzaghi's head.
Minute 56: Torino countered. Quagliarella ran at Bellini. Tried a nutmeg.
Bellini didn't flinch. He dropped a shoulder, took the ball cleanly, and calmly dribbled out of pressure.
The crowd applauded.
Minute 60: substitution — Ambrosini for Gattuso.
Minute 63: Pirlo from distance. Just wide.
Minute 67: Milan corner.
Pirlo raised a hand.
Luca started deep, as always.
The cross came in.
He cut inside. Leapt.
Contact — clean.
GOAL.
A bullet header.
0–2.
His third goal in five matches.
Commentator: "Bellini again! There's no ceiling to this boy's rise!"
—
Minute 72: Torino tried to claw back possession.
Minute 75: Nesta and Bellini blocked back-to-back shots.
Minute 79: Kaká slipped through Shevchenko.
GOAL.
0–3.
Match over.
—
Final whistle.
Luca was swarmed by reporters. He gave one interview. Kept it short.
"I play better when I'm silent."
He found Kaká waiting near the tunnel.
"Careful," Kaká joked. "You'll become a myth if you keep this up."
Luca smiled. "Only if I forget who I am."
—
That night, over pasta and red wine, Sofia leaned across the table.
"You don't need to run from the spotlight, you know."
He nodded slowly. "I just don't want it to blind me."
She smiled. "That's why it won't."
He took her hand.
—
Back in his hotel room, he opened the journal.
February 1 — Torino.
The applause is growing louder. But I don't move for cheers.
Another goal. Another clean sheet. Another step forward.
Still me.