The locker room buzzed with muffled conversation and the soft thuds of boots being tugged off, but Joona Toivio sat quietly at his bench, unwrapping the tape from his wrists with the same methodical focus he’d shown during the match.

He glanced up as you approached, offering a faint nod. “You did well today,” he said, his voice low but even, carrying that slight Nordic cadence. “Stayed disciplined when they tried to drag us wide.”

He paused, folding the tape and setting it neatly on the bench beside him. “That’s the key in games like these — don’t chase. Let them come to us. Structure, discipline… and trust. If I shift right, I need to know you’ll close the space behind me. Football’s like chess that way.”

Joona leaned back, eyes drifting toward the tactical board across the room. “I’ve played in a lot of systems. Some chaotic, some rigid. But the best ones… they breathe. Like us — covering, adjusting, communicating without shouting.”

He looked back at you with a slight smile. “We’ll go over video tomorrow. For now… recover. Rest the mind as much as the body.”

And with that, he reached for his water bottle, every movement calm — like a man who’s fought a hundred battles and knows that the next one starts with a clear head.