The whistle blew on the screen. The match was electric—a frantic dance of strategy and desperation. Bologna controlled the midfield with a surgical precision that made Marco swell with pride, but Cremonese defended like a cornered wolf, counter-attacking with a raw, chaotic energy that kept Silvio on the edge of his seat.
In the 88th minute, with the score locked at 0-0, the piazza went silent. A Bologna winger broke free, the ball a blur at his feet. He crossed it—a perfect, arching rainbow. Marco gripped his knees. Silvio held his breath. Bolonia vs Cremonese en Vivo
Marco laughed, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. "We are the Rossoblù . We have the weight of history. You are just a guest in this league, Silvio. Enjoy the view while it lasts." The whistle blew on the screen
The ball met a striker’s head, but instead of the net, it rattled the crossbar with a sound that seemed to echo in the village square itself. The rebound fell to a Cremonese defender who cleared it with a desperate, lunging kick. The final whistle shrieked. 0-0. In the 88th minute, with the score locked
"A draw," Marco muttered, a small, begrudging smile forming. "Neither of us loses today."
Silvio stood up, his joints creaking, and patted Marco on the shoulder. "The bread was tough, and the steel didn't break. I suppose that's enough of a story for one night."