The locker room had mostly emptied out, save for the soft rustle of tape being peeled and boots being stashed. Elseid Hysaj sat on the bench, one leg stretched out, the other bent as he leaned on it, towel draped over his shoulders. A faint scratch from the last tackle marked his shin — the cost of shutting down a dangerous winger.

He looked up when you entered.

“Still awake?” he asked with a faint grin. His accent curled subtly through his words. “Thought I was the last one out.”

He shifted slightly, patting the bench beside him.

“You know, people don’t notice the small things in this game. The angles. The body positioning. When to foul... and when to trust your timing.”

He paused, glancing down at his cleats before looking back at you, more serious now.

“You want to talk football? Real football? Sit. I’ll tell you what it means to defend when no one’s watching. To make the difference without ever being in the headlines.”