Watching Yuto Nagatomo's miserable expression on the broadcast, global fans found the scene increasingly surreal. In the past, a winger on the right flank would rarely have been the target of such direct, long-range assaults. But with Renzo Uzumaki's passing range now reaching monstrous levels, every teammate in the final third was a potential target. Position was irrelevant when the ball could find you anywhere.
Vincenzo Montella could hardly contain his fervor. His excitement wasn't just about the early lead. It was about the unparalleled vision Renzo displayed. Both long-passing assists were wide-ranging distributions that bypassed Inter's defensive logic entirely. This kind of dimensionality-reduction strike is a display of ability that most managers only dream of witnessing.
Renzo's brilliance reminded Montella of Andrea Pirlo in his prime. While the aging Pirlo remained a maestro in Serie A, the twilight of his career had robbed him of that smooth, youthful aesthetic. To see such a performance from a sixteen-year-old was nothing short of a fleeting glimpse into the future of football.
In the thick of the celebration, Renzo felt a surge of pure exhilaration. Previously, with his vision at 99, he had seen these gaps but lacked the technical range to exploit them. The frustration of seeing an opportunity but having no way to reach it had finally vanished. Now, his guidance was precise and fatal.
"Medel, what the hell are you doing?! Stick to him!" Roberto Mancini's voice cracked as he roared from the touchline. "Don't give him space! Your pressing is too slow!"
Mancini was reaching a breaking point. His three-man midfield shield, the centerpiece of his tactical plan, was being dismantled. Gary Medel, an elite interceptor, looked like a child being toyed with in the palm of Renzo's hand.
Being hysterically scolded only made Medel feel more hollow. Defending Renzo was easy in a briefing room, but on the grass, it was a nightmare. It wasn't that they were slow; it was that Renzo handled the ball with impossible speed. He didn't need to look. He didn't need to adjust. One touch, and the ball was gone. Even when Medel managed to get close, Renzo's Ball Control was a fortress.
After the restart, Inter tried to find a rhythm. It was a struggle. Mancini's offensive plan was proving too optimistic. Kovačić and Hernanes were forced so deep to assist Medel that a massive canyon formed between them and the attacking midfielder, Guarin.
"Guarin! Drop back! How can I pass to you?" Kovačić complained.
"Guarin! Don't pass it so far away! I can't turn!" Icardi yelled from the front.
Guarin felt numb. The connection on Inter's attacking end was fractured, stumbling over its own feet. In the eyes of the Interisti, the attacking midfielder looked like a man trying to bridge a gap that was simply too wide.
In the 58th minute, the fracture finally broke. Guarin received a pass from Kovačić and looked for Icardi. Before he could turn, Savic was in his face. Seeing no route forward, Guarin tried to recycle the ball, only to realize Badelj had snuck behind him like a ghost.
Badelj didn't hesitate. He stripped the ball and immediately looked for his charge. As Renzo's "bodyguard," his first instinct was always to find the maestro.
Medel lunged to intercept, but Renzo's release was too fast. Another one-touch pass. The ball flew diagonally from the center circle, tracing a low, flat arc toward the right wing.
Renzo had given this pass a considerable lead. He had noticed a massive, open space behind the defense. Salah was already sprinting before the ball had even reached its apex. He wasn't just receiving the pass; he was chasing it.
Yuto Nagatomo's mental state shattered. This wasn't just a pass; it was a long-range over-the-top through ball. The football sailed over his head, rendering his defensive positioning irrelevant.
It was "nanny-style" feeding. Renzo had served the goal on a silver platter. All Salah had to do was use his supercar speed to shake off the trailing Nagatomo.
Sprint. Receive. Cut inside. Blast.
The ball screamed past Handanovic's fingertips. The San Siro fell into a deathly silence that lasted for several seconds before the Fiorentina contingent erupted.
"A hat-trick! Perfect! Salah and Renzo have taken Inter apart!"
"Is this Salah's first hat-trick since the loan? The chemistry is beyond words!"
On the bench, Cuadrado was jumping higher than anyone. While new fans saw it as pure selflessness, those who knew the Colombian saw a man caught in the excitement, not yet realizing his starting spot was in grave danger.
After the goal, Salah threw his arms around Renzo. "Ren! That pass was brilliant! We have a telepathic connection! As soon as you hit it, I knew exactly where to go."
Renzo laughed, happy for his friend. He didn't tell him that he had simply calculated the optimal path into the space he'd seen seconds before.
"Damn it! Is Nagatomo a wooden post?" Mancini's composure was gone. "If you can't catch him, take him down! Dodo! Get up! You're going on!"
As the fourth official raised the board, Nagatomo's face went completely numb. He walked off to a chorus of prolonged boos from his own fans. The left flank he was supposed to guard had been reduced to a pile of ash. He sat on the bench, listening to the insults, feeling the weight of a historic humiliation.
However, a strange thing happened after the substitution. Renzo stopped targeting the right wing. Dodo faced almost no pressure. Instead, the ball began flowing toward Mario Gomez and the veteran Joaquín.
Nagatomo's eyes widened on the bench. He felt a surge of paranoid confusion. Was he targeting me on purpose? As soon as I leave, he stops?
In reality, Renzo was simply following the logic of the game. With a hat-trick secured, Salah was being double-marked, which opened up lanes for the others.
In the 74th minute, Renzo made a decoy run through the middle to draw the defenders. Aquilani threaded a pass to Gomez, who hammered home a powerful shot.
4-0.
The final whistle sounded like a mercy killing. The Inter fans' rage was even more intense than AC Milan's a week prior. They had been the defenders of the city's honor, and they had become the creators of its second disgrace.
Mancini fled the pitch early, refusing all interviews.
Ultimately, the Man of the Match title was given to Salah for his historic hat-trick. Surrounded by microphones, the Egyptian was beaming.
"I am excited, but I have to thank Ren for those three passes," Salah told the cameras. "He is an incredible player. I've always believed that with Ren supporting me, a hat-trick was inevitable."
He looked into the lens, his expression turning serious. "I know we are both on loan. One day we will go our separate ways. But if it were possible, I would want to be teammates with Renzo Uzumaki for a lifetime."
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