Italian Football Culture

The rising sun in the east of Turin was as glorious as ever. Its golden and shimmering rays immediately enveloped Zachary in a shawl of warmth after he exited his hotel that morning. He donned his cap and squinted his eyes to adjust to the natural illumination while looking around.

"Now, where is this guy?" He mumbled to himself and glanced at his brand new Rolex watch. The stylish dauphine hands had already pointed to the 8:20 AM mark, meaning he only had approximately forty minutes to get to the Vinovo. If he didn't start moving soon, he would be late for his first official training with Juventus and possibly annoy his new coaches. And that made his heart race with anxiety.

"Zachary!" Suddenly, a shout drew his attention. He inclined his head and immediately noticed Angelo Mattiello, his guide and interpreter, jogging towards him from the other end of the hotel building. He seemed out of breath as if he'd been running a marathon.