Departures

"Luciano Spalletti, AS Roma coach, heaps praise on Mattia Cassani!" 

"AS Roma rumored to be in contact with Cassani and Torrisi for a transfer in July!" 

"Fiorentina sets Gianluca Nicco as their primary target to replace Tomas Ujfalusi in the future!" 

"Hellas Verona in crisis as clubs circle for Andrea Cossu!" 

As Hellas Verona continued their remarkable resurgence, pulling themselves from the depths of the relegation zone, the spotlight on their players intensified. The sports pages were now filled with speculation linking Verona's rejuvenated stars to Serie A's elite. Rumors swirled, amplifying the noise around the club with each passing day. 

Pippo Glaviano sat at the breakfast table in the training ground canteen, flipping through La Gazzetta dello Sport. His eyes lingered on a headline accompanied by a picture of Mattia Cassani, with a quote from Luciano Spalletti praising the young full-back's tactical intelligence. Glaviano exhaled sharply, tossing the newspaper onto the table, startling Pierino Fanna sitting across from him. 

"'Cassani to Roma'? Great," Glaviano muttered. "What's next? Half the team being auctioned off?" 

Aymar Zambo strolled into the room, picking up the discarded paper and skimming the front page with a faint smirk. 

"This again?" he said, chuckling. "Old news." 

"How can you laugh about this?" Glaviano snapped. "You're not worried? At all?" 

Aymar glanced up, still smiling. "Of course I'm worried. But the players can't see that. They need stability, not panic. If we're calm, they're calm." 

He set the paper down and walked out without another word, leaving Glaviano shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Is he serious?" Glaviano asked, looking at Fanna. "What happens when clubs like Roma or Fiorentina start swooping in? Cassani, Torrisi, Nicco—they're all being targeted. How do we keep this team together?" 

Fanna leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "He's not as indifferent as he seems. Zambo has been meeting with Pastorello behind the scenes, pushing for reassurances. But…" He paused, his expression darkening. 

"But what? What's Pastorello saying?" 

Fanna shrugged. "Nothing concrete. Just vague promises—'if we avoid relegation, we'll discuss everything.' No guarantees, no commitments. Typical." 

Glaviano scoffed. "So even if we save this club from relegation, they'll still sell our best players?" 

Fanna sighed. "Verona's financial situation is a mess. Selling players like Cassani, Torrisi, or Nicco could stabilize the books. And now that we're outside the relegation zone, the board's focus has shifted. They're not thinking about survival anymore—they're thinking about cashing in." 

"And Zambo?" Glaviano pressed. 

Fanna smiled faintly. "He's got options, no doubt about it. A coach who can pull off what he's done here? He's already on the radar of bigger clubs. But right now, his focus is on this team, this season. He's not thinking about what's next for him—he's thinking about the next match." 

He brought Hellas Verona to where they are today, recently securing crucial victories in the 30th, 31st, and 32nd rounds of Serie B. The highlight was the emphatic 5-0 win against Albinoleffe in the 30th round, a team that was firmly in the top 10 at the time. This statement victory further cemented Verona's resurgence under Aymar Zambo. 

With 11 consecutive wins, Hellas Verona now sits in 14th place with 37 points, just six points clear of 19th-place Modena in the relegation zone. 

The goal difference, however, remains a lingering issue. Under Gillo Urso's coaching earlier in the season, Verona had suffered heavy defeats, leaving their goal difference among the worst in the league. Despite the remarkable turnaround under Zambo, this weakness continues to limit their progress, serving as a reminder of the uphill battle they face. 

According to analysis from La Gazzetta dello Sport, if Verona can secure victory against Frosinone in the 33rd round, they could rise to 12th place, narrowing the gap to just two points behind 9th and 10th-placed Cesena and Brescia. Winning their 34th and 35th-round fixtures could potentially see them break into the top 10. 

Dreams of a 21-game winning streak have sparked cautious optimism among Verona supporters. If Verona achieves this feat, they would end the season with 67 points, putting them in contention for a playoff spot and a chance at Serie A promotion. 

While the likelihood of promotion remains slim, Zambo's leadership has already achieved what many considered impossible. Several analysts have tipped him as a strong contender for the Serie B Coach of the Year award, hailing Verona as the most impressive team of the season. 

This transformation hasn't gone unnoticed. Serie A clubs, as well as teams from Ligue 1 and the Primeira Liga, have reportedly expressed interest in securing Zambo's services for next season. Despite being just 23 years old, his tactical prowess and leadership have turned heads across European football. 

"Do you think he'll leave?" Pippo Glaviano asked, staring blankly at Aymar Zambo's office door. 

Pierino Fanna shook his head. "I don't know. But if I were in his shoes, I'd leave. Who would want to stay in a club like this—financially unstable, selling off its best players?" 

If Cassani, Cossu, and Magliocchetti are sold, and players like Nicco, Torrisi, and Greco are lured away by bigger clubs, what will Hellas Verona have left? 

"I finally understand why Aymar said this was a meaningless relegation battle," Glaviano admitted. "Even if we somehow make it to Serie A, what then? With no money to strengthen the squad and no top players left, we'd drop right back to Serie B. This cycle just keeps repeating." 

Fanna exhaled deeply, sharing the sentiment. 

"I wouldn't blame him for leaving," Glaviano muttered. "Why stay here when he could build a legacy somewhere more stable? Somewhere with ambition?" 

But Glaviano underestimated Aymar Zambo. If Zambo decided to stay, the CoachMaster Guidance System would help him cultivate Verona's young talents. 

Zambo had already begun using the system's advanced scouting and training modules to enhance players like Cassani, Nicco, and Torrisi, preparing them for greater challenges. With the system's insights, he could spot weaknesses, optimize training drills, and instill confidence even in the most fragile players. The question wasn't whether Zambo had the ability to lead Verona—it was whether he believed this fight was worth the effort. 

"Are you ready? Time's ticking!" Zambo's voice rang out as he emerged from his office. 

... 

... 

Walking back to the training ground of Hellas Verona, Aymar Zambo noticed a gathering of fans near the entrance, their faces anxious and their voices rising with emotion. They had pulled up banners with desperate pleas, messages begging the club not to sell players like Cassani, Cossu, and Ferrante. Some even resorted to bold threats, warning the club's management against dismantling the team. 

As the three of them approached, the crowd noticed Aymar. The fans immediately parted, making way for him to pass. Many reached out, shaking his hand, their eyes brimming with a mix of hope and desperation. The intensity of their emotions was palpable. 

Suddenly, one young man stepped forward, clutching Aymar's arm tightly, his voice trembling with both anger and tears. 

"Please, Mister Zambo, don't leave Verona. Don't let them sell Cassani, Ferrante, or anyone else!" 

The rawness of his plea silenced the crowd momentarily. Tears streaked down his face, and others in the group soon joined him, their anguish spilling out in sobs. It was a heartbreaking sight. 

Aymar's heart ached, but he forced a faint, bitter smile. He nodded solemnly and whispered, "I'm sorry." Then, he gently freed himself and walked into the training ground, leaving the fans stunned. 

The weight of his response ignited a wave of fury among the gathered supporters. Cries of frustration rose into the air, quickly devolving into shouts of anger directed at the club's upper management. Some fans hurled stones at the office windows, while others pounded on the gates, demanding answers. 

From the locker room entrance, Aymar turned to look at the scene unfolding behind him. Fans who had been so devoted, so unwavering in their support, now seemed adrift in their despair. 

"They really are the most pitiable people in the world," Aymar murmured, his voice tinged with regret. 

Pippo Glaviano, standing beside him, caught the layered emotions in Aymar's tone—sympathy for the fans, frustration with the club's hierarchy, and above all, an acceptance of the grim reality. 

When Gillo Urso had first arrived, these same fans had welcomed him with open arms, treating him like a savior who could restore Verona to its glory days. But after months of disappointment, they turned on him, their hopes crushed. Now, Aymar had become their new beacon of hope. They had placed him on a pedestal, believing he could defy the financial and organizational constraints that loomed over the club. 

But Aymar knew better. The club's dire financial situation made a mass exodus inevitable. Half the first-team players would likely leave in the summer, and the dream of Serie A, or even staying competitive in Serie B, was growing dimmer. The fans, lost in their fantasies, couldn't—or wouldn't—accept the reality. 

"They don't see it, do they?" Pippo asked softly. 

Aymar shook his head. "No. They can't. It's easier to hope for a miracle than face the truth." 

He paused, watching as the crowd grew more volatile. The shouting, the throwing of stones—it was their way of grasping at something, anything, to feel like they had control. 

Pierino Fanna joined them, standing quietly before he spoke. "This isn't just about football for them. It's their identity, their pride. To them, Verona isn't just a club; it's everything." 

Aymar's gaze didn't waver. "I know. And that's why it's so painful. They'll eventually see the truth, but by then, it'll be too late. The club will sell the players, rebuild with what little resources they have, and start the cycle all over again." 

The three men stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of chaos continuing in the background. 

Pippo sighed, shaking his head. "It's the idealists who suffer the most when reality hits." 

Aymar gave a faint, bitter smile. "Sooner or later, this world forces us all to be realists." 

And with that, he turned, walking into the locker room, carrying the weight of the club's struggles on his shoulders. 

... 

... 

In the 33rd round of Serie B, Hellas Verona hosted Frosinone at the Stadio Marc'Antonio Bentegodi. However, the match lacked the spark and excitement that had defined their recent games under Aymar Zambo. It was a subdued affair, with Verona eventually grinding out a narrow 1-0 victory. 

The lone goal came courtesy of Marco Ferrante, who continued his stellar form this season, taking his tally to an impressive 22 goals in the league. His prolific scoring record now placed him firmly atop the Serie B scoring charts, with an excellent chance of finishing as the league's top scorer. Yet, the subdued atmosphere in the stands wasn't solely due to the lackluster performance—it was the news that broke before the match that dampened spirits. 

The club officially announced that their talisman, Marco Ferrante, would be transferring to Chievo Verona at the end of the season for a fee of €400,000. The veteran forward, who had played a pivotal role in Verona's revival, had chosen to move to Chievo, who were embroiled in a relegation battle in Serie A. Despite Chievo's likely demotion to Serie B, the allure of a larger contract and the chance to lead their resurgence was too tempting for Ferrante to resist. 

For Verona's loyal supporters, the announcement was a bitter pill to swallow. The fans had grown to adore Ferrante, not only for his goals but also for his leadership and dedication. While many understood his decision, it didn't make the news any easier to accept. Questions loomed—if Ferrante was leaving, who would be next? 

In his office after the match, Aymar Zambo sat at his desk, staring blankly at the paperwork before him. He felt a wave of helplessness, a deep frustration at the club's inability to retain its key players. Despite the team's heroic turnaround, financial reality loomed large, dictating decisions that no coach wanted to make. 

"Come in," Aymar said in response to a knock at the door. 

The door opened to reveal Marco Ferrante, who stepped in with an awkward expression. The veteran forward, usually so composed, looked uncharacteristically uneasy. 

"I'm sorry, boss," Ferrante said immediately, his tone filled with regret. 

Aymar forced a small smile, though the disappointment was evident in his eyes. "It's okay, Marco," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and understanding. After a pause, he added, "Though I have to admit, it caught me off guard." 

Ferrante nodded, guilt flashing across his face. "I should have told you sooner, but Mr. Pastorello insisted it remain confidential until we were sure of avoiding relegation. I didn't expect it to leak to the press right before the match." 

Aymar let out a sigh and stood up, moving to place a reassuring hand on Ferrante's shoulder. "I understand. You've given everything for this team, Marco. I respect your decision." 

"I'm in the twilight of my career," Ferrante said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The offer from Chievo... I couldn't turn it down." 

"I get it," Aymar replied, nodding. "You have to think about what's best for you and your family. No one can fault you for that." 

There was a moment of silence before Ferrante hesitated and then added, "By the way, boss, if you're interested... Chievo would like to meet you. They're putting together some plans and think you might fit into them." 

Aymar's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps amusement, perhaps disbelief. "Don't worry, Marco," he said, cutting off the awkward offer before it could go further. "I promise I'll come and visit. I wouldn't miss the chance to see how you're doing." 

Ferrante seemed relieved, though he knew full well that Aymar's future lay elsewhere—likely at a bigger club, given the attention he was receiving from teams across Serie A and Europe. Yet, the thought of parting ways was bittersweet for both men. 

"Boss, do you know why I never left Italy, even when I had the chance?" Ferrante asked suddenly, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. 

Aymar Zambo frowned slightly, shaking his head. "No. Tell me." 

Ferrante paused, his gaze distant as he gathered his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of years of experience and emotion. "Because I was afraid that if I left, I'd lose everything that made me who I am—everything that shaped me as a player and a person." 

Zambo remained silent, sensing that Ferrante's words were more than just an explanation—they were a reflection of something deeper. 

"Back in the 90s, after the golden era of Serie A, Italian football started to crumble outside the big clubs. For those of us in Serie B—or even lower—it was chaos. Teams were dismantled overnight to pay off debts. One day you're training with your teammates, the next day half of them are gone. Sold. It's like watching your family torn apart right in front of you." 

Ferrante's voice grew more impassioned, his hands gesturing as he spoke. "People told me to leave—Spain, England, Turkey. They said the money was better, the facilities were better, and I'd have a real chance to make a name for myself. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave behind the football I grew up loving. The culture, the people, the way we live and breathe the game—it's in my blood. Leaving would've felt like turning my back on all of that." 

Zambo listened closely, his expression thoughtful. Ferrante's words resonated deeply with him. 

"But now..." Ferrante sighed, his voice softening, resignation creeping in. "Now it's different. I'm 36. I don't have many years left to play, and the offer from Chievo is too good to turn down. It's not just about the money. It's about security—ensuring my family's future. After all these years of loyalty to football, I have to think about what comes next." 

Zambo nodded slowly, understanding the difficult choice Ferrante had made. Football wasn't just a game—it was a livelihood, and sometimes, survival required hard decisions. 

"I haven't been at Verona long," Ferrante continued, a faint smile softening his features, "but in this short time, it's felt special. The fans, the team, this city... it reminded me of why I fell in love with football in the first place." 

His voice grew firmer, his passion evident. "You brought that back for me, boss. You gave me a sense of purpose, a feeling I thought I'd lost. I've worked harder these past months than I have in years—not just for the team, but for something bigger. I wanted to show everyone that even in Serie B, there's beauty, there's fight, and there's pride." 

Ferrante leaned forward, his eyes shining with conviction. "Serie B doesn't have the money or glamour of Serie A, but that doesn't define us. It's our spirit, our belief, and our willingness to fight that make us who we are. If we stay strong, if we persevere, Verona can rise again—step by step. And even if I won't be here to see it through, I believe in this club's future." 

Zambo felt a swell of admiration for Ferrante. Despite the challenges, here was a player who, even in his final years, embodied the passion and resilience of Italian football at its core. 

"When players like you step up and lead by example," Zambo said, a small smile forming on his lips, "it gives me hope that football's soul will endure, no matter how hard things get." 

Ferrante chuckled softly, the intensity in his demeanor giving way to warmth. "You know, boss, I don't open up like this often. It's been years since I've shared so much with anyone." 

Zambo reached out, placing a firm hand on Ferrante's shoulder. "That's what coaches are for. And for the record, Marco, in my eyes, you'll always be one of the great forwards—not just for Verona, but for all of Italy." 

Ferrante's smile widened, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, boss." 

The two embraced, their camaraderie and mutual respect evident in the gesture—a rare moment of connection in the often ruthless world of football. 

"Although I'll be leaving Verona soon," Ferrante said, his voice steady and resolute, "I will give everything I have in these remaining games. Who knows? Maybe we can push into the top six and secure a spot in the promotion playoffs. If we succeed, it will be my parting gift to the Verona fans—a chance to dream again." 

Zambo nodded, moved by Ferrante's determination. "That's all anyone could ask for, Marco. Let's make it happen."