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Chapter 203: 10/1/2015 Part 3 (End)
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 01:09:47 +0000 UTCOctober 3, 2015 – 12:10 PM - Carrow Road
The tunnel was quieter than usual.
A small media setup had been arranged beside the away changing room. A single BBC camera, one standing mic, and a floor producer giving countdowns with her fingers. No sponsor boards. No brand logos. Just the club crest and the league seal.
Dan Walker stood in front of the mic, earpiece in. He gave a quick nod to the camera crew, then turned to his guests.
Jamie Vardy. Tristan Hale.
Vardy wore a zipped-up tracksuit, hands in his pockets. Tristan stood beside him, collar loose.
Dan gave them both a brief nod. "Thirty seconds, lads."
Tristan nodded once. Vardy just rolled his neck out.
The producer counted down.
3.
2.
1.
Red light on.
Dan turned to the camera, voice firm and focused.
"Good afternoon from Carrow Road. It’s just under an hour until kickoff between Norwich and Leicester City, but before we focus on football, we’re joined live by two men whose team found itself at the center of global headlines this week: Leicester striker Jamie Vardy, and midfielder Tristan Hale."
Wide shot. Vardy nodded once. Tristan offered a quiet "afternoon" without looking straight at the lens.
Dan turned to Vardy first.
"Jamie, I’ll start with you. It’s been less than 48 hours since the events in Rome. What’s the mood been like in the dressing room?"
Vardy exhaled slowly. No smile. Just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah... it’s been rough, to be honest. Lot of the lads are still processing it. We’re a close squad. We look out for each other, but seeing our own fans injured like that... seeing teammates racially abused live on telly... it hits you different."
He scratched his arm. Looked down the tunnel again. Then back.
"We’ve just tried to stick together. Get through the noise. It’s not been about tactics this week — just support."
Dan nodded, then turned toward Tristan.
"Tristan, you’ve stayed quiet until now. There’s been so much speculation, so much public reaction. What would you say to the people — especially the fans — who were hurt Thursday night?"
Tristan looked up finally. Straight into the camera. Not cold. Not blank. Just steady.
"First... I’d say I’m sorry. That it happened to them. I’ve been thinking about them since we landed — especially the kids. We’ve seen the clips. We’ve seen the injuries. And none of them should’ve been there, in that kind of danger, just for showing up to support us."
He swallowed.
"We’re already planning a visit. The club is. Once they’re back in England. We’ll be there. Not for press or photos. Just to let them know we see them. And we won’t forget it."
Dan glanced down, checked his notes.
"UEFA confirmed their sanctions yesterday. Lazio forfeits the second leg. They’re banned from European competitions for three years. They’ll also face a twenty-point deduction in Serie A. Harsh to some — justified to others. What was your reaction?"
Vardy leaned in. No hesitation.
"Should’ve happened years ago. We all know what they’ve done. The salutes. The chants. The Anne Frank stickers. What happened Thursday didn’t come out of nowhere. They got away with too much for too long."
Tristan nodded slightly.
"We asked for protection. Weeks ago. People were warned about this. So no — this isn’t a surprise. It’s overdue. But that doesn’t mean we celebrate it. It just means... now we start asking harder questions."
Dan followed up.
"Some have pointed fingers at Italy as a whole. Does that feel fair to you both?"
Tristan shook his head. "No. It doesn’t. Italy’s a beautiful place. I grew up watching players from Serie A. This isn’t about a country. This is about a violent fringe group. Ultras. And about systems that let them do this for years. That’s where the blame goes. Not the people. Not the nation."
Vardy added, eyes narrowed just a bit. "Yeah. Don’t go pointing fingers at Italians. This was some cowards in masks. That’s not the game."
Dan gave a short nod, then softened his tone.
"You’ve become the face of this, Tristan. Whether you wanted to or not. Do you think anything’s changed?"
Tristan hesitated. Then:
"Maybe. But only if we don’t let people forget. This isn’t a win. It’s just a wake-up call. And if we go back to normal next week... then it meant nothing."
Dan looked off-camera briefly, got the signal.
"Last thing — this might be a silly one, but most of Leicester’s usual starters aren’t in the lineup today. Are you guys okay? Or should fans be worried?"
Vardy smirked slightly.
Tristan stepped in. "We’re alright. Gaffer’s just giving us a... very generous recovery window."
Vardy chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, he looked at me and said ‘Go stretch your legs. But only for about seventy minutes.’"
Dan laughed softly.
"Fair enough. Thank you both. I know it’s not been easy, and I appreciate you showing up today — on and off the pitch."
The red light went off.
Dan gave both men a quiet thanks.
Vardy cracked his neck. "That was alright. Didn’t swear once."
Tristan gave the faintest half-smile. "Proud of you."
They turned, boots tapping toward the pitch.
.
One Hour Later
The tunnel was full — but still quiet. Just the occasional shuffle of cleats and the squeak of rubber soles. A few kids in oversized kits fidgeted near their assigned players, holding hands but glancing up often.
The referees stood near the front, speaking quietly to each other, then turned back to the squads.
“Two minutes,” one of them said. “We go on your signal.”
Tristan stood close to the front. He looked steady — not calm, but ready. Beside him, Vardy rocked slightly on his heels, jaw tense, scanning the far wall like it owed him something.
One of the Norwich players leaned in toward Tristan. “Some week, huh?”
Tristan gave a dry exhale. “You could say that.”
The Norwich captain nodded toward him. “For what it’s worth… we were all watching. What happened shouldn’t have.”
Tristan met his eye. “Appreciate that.”
A kid near Vardy tugged at his sleeve. ““Didn’t you score against Germany?”
Vardy blinked. “Nah, not this week, mate.”
The boy squinted. “Wasn’t you on the cereal box?”
That broke the tension. A soft chuckle passed down the tunnel.
Tristan looked down at the kid next to him. A little girl, maybe eight. Nervous fingers clutching her sleeve.
He knelt slightly.
“You ready to walk out with us?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“You cold?”
Another nod. Barely.
Tristan unzipped his warm-up top and draped it over her shoulders. “There. Now we both look serious.”
The referee stepped forward again. “Alright — let’s move.”
Everyone straightened. Shoulders back. Heads up.
The stadium doors opened.
Light poured in.
They walked.
.
Rob spoke over the broadcast, tone level. “Well, here we are at Carrow Road. Leicester walking out into their first match since Rome.”
Andy followed. “You can already feel the atmosphere. There’s a different kind of weight behind this one.”
Morgan stepped out first. Tristan right beside him.
They passed the dugouts. Then the halfway line.
Then, slowly, from the Norwich end — a tifo began to rise. It was white, stretched across the width of the stand, with a bold black stencil of a fox holding a scarf. Behind it: 31 empty silhouettes outlined in grey.
Above, in block lettering:
NO ONE LEFT BEHIND — WE WALK WITH YOU
And beneath it, in smaller print: Norwich x Leicester, October 3rd, 2015
[TIFO > Image Here]
Tristan stopped walking.
Vardy did too.
Schmeichel’s hands lowered from his hips.
Marc just stared.
Mahrez blinked slowly. Fuchs ran a palm over his face.
On the Norwich side, their players stood just behind, watching.
Ranieri didn’t speak — just glanced once at the display, then down again.
The PA system clicked on. Then, calmly:
“Today, before kickoff, we observe a minute of silence for the thirty-one Leicester supporters injured in Rome. We stand in solidarity.”
Silence fell.
No clapping. No camera shutters. Just breath and stillness.
Tristan lowered his head. His hand stayed over his heart.
Kanté didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Just stared straight ahead.
On the Leicester bench, even the substitutes stood.
So did both managers.
The crowd — twenty-seven thousand strong — stood too.
No coughs. No muttering. Nothing but silence.
For a full minute.
Then — the PA again. “Thank you.”
The players moved slowly into position.
The referee looked to both benches.
Lifted the whistle.
The match hadn’t started.
But the day already had.
.
Rob spoke as the formations flashed on screen.
"Before we kick off here at Carrow Road, let’s take a look at today’s lineups. Leicester making several changes — and I think we all expected that, given the week they’ve had. No Hale, no Mahrez, no Vardy. Kasper Schmeichel also on the bench. Claudio Ranieri going with a rotated side."
Leicester City – 4–4–2 Formation
🧤 Mark Schwarzer (GK)
🛡️ Danny Simpson (RB)
🛡️ Harry Maguire (CB)
🛡️ Robert Huth (CB)
🛡️ Ben Chilwell (LB)
⚡️ Anthony Knockaert (RW)
🧠 Andy King (CM) (c)
🛡️ Danny Drinkwater (CM)
⚡️ Jeff Schlupp (LW)
🦊 Shinji Okazaki (ST)
🔥 Leonardo Ulloa (ST)
Andy picked it up. "Yeah, this is about trust. Ulloa and Okazaki leading the line. Knockaert and Schlupp give them width. King takes the armband, and you’ve got Drinkwater anchoring midfield. The back line’s experienced, but what really stands out? No Kanté either. That tells you everything about how confident Ranieri feels in the group today."
Rob nodded. "And it’s not just confidence — it’s belief. Leicester's bench today is stacked with starters, but this eleven’s earned their chance. Schwarzer in goal, and the average age back there... it’s not young, but it’s calm. It’s deliberate."
Then the Norwich graphic appeared.
Norwich City – 4–2–3–1 Formation
🧤 John Ruddy (GK)
🛡️ Russell Martin (RB) (c)
🛡️ Sébastien Bassong (CB)
🛡️ Ryan Bennett (CB)
🛡️ Martin Olsson (LB)
🛡️ Alexander Tettey (CDM)
🛡️ Jonny Howson (CDM)
⚡️ Nathan Redmond (RW)
🎯 Wes Hoolahan (CAM)
⚡️ Robbie Brady (LW)
⚽️ Cameron Jerome (ST)
Andy glanced at the screen. “Strong side from Norwich. Jerome up top, Hoolahan just behind. Redmond and Brady can cause problems out wide. They’ll look to target Chilwell and Simpson early.”
Rob added, “They’ve got pace and physicality — but let’s be honest, this game’s carrying something different today. The football matters, of course. But the mood here… it’s something else.”
Andy glanced across the pitch. “And I think that tifo — I mean, what a moment that was. You talk about what football’s supposed to be... that’s it. That was Norwich standing up and saying, we see what happened. And we care.”
Rob added, quieter now. “The silence hit different. Not just respectful — it was heavy. Earned. And I think for Leicester’s players, that meant everything.”
They paused.
Then the whistle blew.
.
On the Leicester bench, the players sat close, bundled in jackets, the echo of the tifo still fresh in their minds. Most weren’t watching the pitch — not yet. They were still watching the crowd.
Mahrez leaned back on the bench and muttered, “Didn’t expect that from Norwich.”
Schmeichel rubbed at his jaw. “Thirty-one silhouettes. That’s what got me.”
Vardy sat forward. “Wonder how many of them are watching from hospital beds right now.”
“Probably all of them,” Tristan said softly. He glanced toward the away end. “That’s what I would do.”
They sat in silence for a few beats.
Then Fuchs grinned faintly. “Alright, who’s scoring first?”
“Jeff,” Mahrez said immediately.
“Killer on the counter today,” Vardy agreed. “Mark my words — he’s due.”
“Kingy header,” said Schmeichel. “Back post. Chaos in the box.”
Kanté offered quietly, “Okazaki. One touch. Tap-in. ”
Tristan laughed under his breath. “We’re so stressed we’re placing bets on our own team.”
“Not bets,” Fuchs said. “Prayers.”
Mahrez leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Just need one. One good goal. One reminder we’re still us.”
Vardy looked out across the pitch. “We will be.”
.
The whistle blew. And football returned.
The first minute was mostly noise. Not from the crowd — they were subdued, still respectful — but from the pitch itself. Studs thudding into grass. Gloves clapping. Boots shifting. A couple early touches. Nothing sharp yet.
Leicester’s shape settled quickly. A flat 4-4-2. King and Drinkwater tucked tight in midfield, offering safety more than creation. Schlupp hung back instead of darting forward. Knockaert stayed wider but cautious, eyes on the overlap.
In the second minute, Hoolahan tried a quick one-two with Brady on the left. Chilwell read it and stepped in, clearing down the line. It didn’t find a teammate, but it got a polite applause from the Leicester bench.
Norwich passed around the back. Bassong to Bennett. Bennett to Tettey. Leicester let them have it. No press. Just Okazaki shifting left and right, shadowing. Ulloa staying central, back to goal, arms wide just in case.
Howson carried forward and lobbed a diagonal to Redmond on the far side. The winger took it down clean but was immediately met by Chilwell. No foul. Just body-to-body. Redmond backed off.
Drinkwater found a bit of space and sent a measured pass toward Knockaert. It rolled just out of reach. Knockaert turned, clapped his hands, then raised one toward Drinkwater. Close, but not quite.
Norwich advanced again. Hoolahan slipped past King and pinged a low ball toward Jerome. Huth read it. Stepped. Cleared. Loud thump. Schmeichel yelled something from the bench.
A bit of rhythm now. Simpson overlapped for the first time. Got a pass down the right and swung a cross in toward the box. It floated. Ruddy caught it with ease.
Brady tried to stretch the flank. Took on Simpson. Got by him, but the cross was poor. Maguire cleared.
Ulloa finally got a proper touch in the box. Okazaki dropped deep, flicked a layoff. Ulloa took a step and shot — blocked by Bassong. First real chance. First real heartbeat.
Rob called it from the booth: “Leicester easing into it now. Bit more bite in the last couple minutes.”
Andy added, “Still not full pace — but you can feel them thawing out.”
Ten minutes gone.
.
In the fourteenth minute, Norwich struck first. A throw-in led to a quick layoff by Jerome. Hoolahan slipped the ball through to Redmond, who ghosted inside Chilwell and clipped a shot across Schwarzer — bottom corner. No celebration. Just a quiet jog back. Redmond didn’t even raise his arms.
Andy's voice was soft. "No real celebration there."
Leicester didn’t panic. They didn’t spark either. They just kept moving. Passing. Searching.
In the twenty-sixth minute, it clicked.
King stepped forward and threaded a line-splitter to Okazaki, who touched once and spun. He played Ulloa through. A clean, straight sprint into space. One touch. Then another. The third was a finish across Ruddy.
⚽ Leonardo Ulloa (26’)
The crowd clapped politely. Away end lifted a small cheer — muffled, like it wasn’t sure how much to give.
Rob said it plainly. “Leonardo Ulloa — who’s barely seen minutes this year — gets Leicester level. A good finish. Smart run. Nothing wild. Just clean football."
The first half slowed after that. A couple long balls. One scuffed shot from Brady. But the mood stayed muted.
The second half began with more urgency. Norwich pushed higher. Leicester sat deeper. Drinkwater and King dropped to shield.
In the fifty-eighth minute, Brady curled a free kick in. Huth rose — missed it. Jerome didn’t. Headed low, across the goal line.
⚽ Cameron Jerome (58’)
No dance. Just a nod to the crowd and a tap of the chest.
Ranieri didn’t rise. He just whispered something to his assistant.
Sixty-fifth minute, Leicester found joy again.
Knockaert took a short corner. Played it to Chilwell, who swung a lofted cross to the back post. Maguire headed it down. Okazaki was there — back to goal — flicked it over his shoulder and into the net.
⚽ Shinji Okazaki (65’)
Even he looked surprised.
Andy laughed. “Shinji with the magician’s flick! Lovely improvisation. Didn’t even look at the goal.”
Players gathered near him — half-hearted high-fives. The bench stood, but no one really yelled.
Rob spoke again, his tone gentle. “2–2 now.”
The match played on.
Subs came. Passes flowed. But no one chased a winner with fury. Not today.
The final whistle came without drama.
Leicester 2. Norwich 2.
And that was enough.
No explosion. No songs.
.
Apologies for the short chapter and match, I’m really sick and tired today, I just don’t have the energy to write a long chapter, hopefully you guys still like this chapter.
I still put in effort for the top part as for that match, ngl I just barely put effort into it. It’s match I don’t care about.
But we are finally done with the mini arc of Lazio. I still bring it up every once in a while, it had a huge impact so I can’t just forget for the rest of the season and story.
Comments
Sicario_1011
Thx for the chapter
noname
Bruh I’m American chill 😭
Cobalt
People not screaming or chanting and only clapping and light cheering was a nice touch, seen in American "soccer 🤮🤮" with minutes of silence and then they go right back to chanting like 15 mins in, tho all their chants are weirdly like power of friendship and bragging about stadium location and the like
