24 Via Durini, Milan.
In the spacious conference room, a large screen was broadcasting the high-stakes match taking place in Naples, southern Italy.
The expressions of those gathered in the room were grim.
At the head of the table sat Inter Milan's president, Massimo Moratti.
Seated alongside him were his son and current vice-chairman of the club, Angelo Moratti, the chief operating officer Ernesto Paolillo, and forr Inter Milan star Luis Suárez, a close friend of Moratti.
The room was silent except for the voice of the comntator narrating the ga.
"Tonight, Inter's performance is even more humiliating than their recent away loss to Liverpool.
"Mancini's team has managed just one shot in the entire first half—an off-balance, desperate long-range effort close to the 40-minute mark, which was completely ineffective.
"Inter Milan has been thoroughly dominated by Napoli.
"Napoli is putting on a stunning display of high-pressure football tonight, even more intense than Liverpool's.
"From their attacking trident of Cavani, Di Maria, and Sanchez to their midfield and backline, Napoli is applying relentless pressure across the entire pitch. Inter Milan simply can't string together aningful passes, let alone create real scoring opportunities.
"To contrast, Napoli has registered a staggering 16 shots on goal so far. Their performance has been absolutely clinical."
As the comntator continued to praise Napoli, the atmosphere in the conference room grew heavier.
Massimo Moratti sniffled and adjusted his glasses, as if trying to conceal his emotions.
"What… what do you all think?" Moratti finally broke the silence, his voice low and solemn.
The n in the room exchanged uneasy glances. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
Inter Milan's technical director, Marco Branca, and transfer consultant, Gabriele Oriali, had both traveled with the team to Naples, leaving the remaining executives to deliberate alone.
Suárez, as Moratti's personal advisor, was also present but remained quiet.
Sensing the awkwardness, Angelo Moratti cleared his throat. "Change the coach, Dad!"
Change the coach.
It wasn't a new suggestion for Inter Milan.
Since taking over the club, Massimo Moratti had developed a reputation for dismissing coaches without hesitation, even high-profile figures like Marcello Lippi hadn't been spared.
But this ti, it was different.
Moratti hesitated.
For years, people had advised him that Mancini wasn't the right man to lead Inter Milan. They claid that Mancini didn't have what it took to bring the club to the pinnacle of European football.
Yet Moratti had persisted, convinced that the best Italian coach was the one who could guide Inter Milan to Champions League glory.
But Mancini had disappointed him ti and ti again.
Yes, Inter Milan had dominated Serie A under Mancini, and those victories had reignited Moratti's hopes again and again.
But those hopes had been shattered just as frequently.
In the past few years, Moratti had spared no expense, fully backing Mancini and investing heavily in the squad. Yet the return on that investnt had been underwhelming.
"Dad, it's clear as day: Mancini has reached his ceiling with this team. Winning the Serie A title is his limit, and even that's slipping away this season!" Angelo Moratti's frustration was evident.
Angelo was younger and more ambitious than his father. His temper flared easily, and he was unwilling to settle for diocrity.
He wasn't just another Moratti, he was the third generation of the family to oversee Inter Milan, and he had his own vision for the club.
"The centennial celebration, Dad—we've been planning it for so long. And now it's all about to fall apart!"
His words struck a nerve.
Massimo Moratti, too, felt the weight of failure.
He had placed his trust in so many players and coaches over the years, yet he was still chasing the sa dream.
He didn't want much, just one Champions League title. One European triumph was all he desired before he passed the torch to the next generation.
Why was that so difficult?
"Ernesto, what's your opinion?" Moratti turned to the chief operating officer.
"To be honest, I'm disappointed as well," Ernesto Paolillo admitted. "I think Mancini has done all he can with this team. It's been three years without any real progress. The squad is aging, and if we don't achieve sothing now, the window will close. And once that happens, it'll take years and significant investnt to rebuild."
Three years.
How many "three years" does a professional player's career have?
Inter Milan's current squad was nearing its expiration date. Without results, the team would need to be overhauled costing Moratti not just money, but precious ti.
Moratti turned to his old friend Suárez and gave him a faint smile. "What do you think?"
At seventy-two years old, Suárez was a legend of the ga, and his insight remained sharp.
"In this match, Mancini has been completely outcoached by Gao Shen," Suárez stated bluntly.
Moratti shook his head, smiling bitterly.
Who would have believed this a few years ago?
Roberto Mancini a celebrated forr Italian player and the manager of Serie A's reigning champions was being thoroughly outclassed by a 27-year-old.
But tonight, at the San Paolo Stadium in Naples, in front of hundreds of dia outlets and countless fans worldwide, Gao Shen had turned Inter Milan into a punching bag.
Every goal Napoli scored felt like a dagger to Moratti's heart.
"I've heard it said more than once that Gao Shen's football represents the future," Moratti mused, his tone neutral.
"To be honest, after watching football for so many years, I still don't fully understand it. Why does Sacchi, and so many others, believe in him so much?"
Before the match, the broadcast caras had panned across the stands, capturing the presence of legendary figures like Trapattoni, Lippi, Sacchi, Cruyff, and Valdano.
They had all co to witness this match, yet what they saw was nothing short of a massacre.
"Suárez," Moratti continued, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Do you think Gao Shen really represents the future of football?"
Suárez could sense the hesitation in his friend's voice.
"For now, I'd say only the likes of Manchester United, Chelsea, or Liverpool could compete with Napoli."
"Why?"
"They have the best players and the best coaches. Inter Milan only has good players."
"And the Spanish teams?"
"Barcelona is in turmoil," Suárez replied. "As for Real Madrid, they haven't recovered to the level they were at when Gao Shen was in charge. That's why their fans still miss him, even though they once criticized him for being too conservative."
Suárez chuckled softly at the irony.
"Do you think he's the best coach in the world?" Moratti pressed.
"I don't know," Suárez admitted. "He's still young. But based on his results and the way his teams play, I'd say he's already halfway there."
It was high praise especially for a 27-year-old.
One foot in the door of being the best coach in the world? What more needed to be said?
"I have to warn you, Massimo," Suárez added. "AC Milan is close to signing Ronaldinho, and Barcelona will hold on to ssi. Once Ronaldinho joins Milan, Serie A will beco even more competitive."
Moratti sighed deeply. He had already made up his mind but was reluctant to act.
"Let him finish the season," he said finally.
The room fell silent.
Everyone—Angelo Moratti, Ernesto Paolillo, and even Suárez looked disappointed.
Changing the coach now would send a strong signal. It would shake things up, boost morale, and possibly even destabilize Napoli. But Moratti's hesitation could cost Inter Milan dearly.
As the executives silently pondered the decision, the comntator's voice suddenly rose in excitent.
It was stoppage ti in the first half.
Napoli launched an attack down the right flank, but the ball was intercepted.
Maxwell gained possession but was imdiately pressed by Sanchez, who forced him to pass to Qiu.
Before Qiu could react, Cavani surged forward, blocking his clearance.
The deflected ball arced high into the air, landing on the right wing.
Lichtsteiner rushed forward, judged the ball's trajectory, and headed it back toward the center.
Hamsik arrived at the edge of the penalty area, chesting the ball down.
He spun sharply, faced Cesar, and struck a powerful shot—
Targeting the left side of the goal!
*****
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