Chapter 31: The Absence
The days after Empoli blurred into a monotonous routine. Ice. Elevation. Physiotherapy. Rest. Repeat. Leo's ankle was a swollen, purple mess for the first week, but the Injury Resistance talent worked quietly in the background, accelerating the healing. The physios were surprised at his progress. "You heal like a teenager," one said. Leo almost laughed. He was a teenager.
He watched Milan's matches from his apartment, leg propped on a stack of pillows, his mum fussing over him with bowls of pasta and cups of tea. The system tracked everything, a clinical record of his team struggling without him.
[Injury Status: Ankle Ligament (Grade 2). Recovery: Week 1 of 4-6.]
[Team Performance Without Carter: Monitoring.]
---
Sunday, 29th September 2002. Stadio Olimpico, Rome.
Lazio away. A proper test. The Roman side had quality—Claudio López, Bernardo Corradi, Dejan Stanković. Ancelotti named a strong lineup, but the trequartista role was filled by Rui Costa, the Portuguese playmaker. Brilliant on his day, but inconsistent.
Leo watched on television, the Italian commentary a rapid-fire stream he was slowly beginning to understand.
"Milan senza Carter. Può Rui Costa riempire il vuoto?" Milan without Carter. Can Rui Costa fill the void?
The first half was a chess match. Milan dominated possession—Pirlo and Seedorf controlling the midfield—but lacked the final spark. Rui Costa drifted, found pockets of space, but his through balls were either intercepted or slightly overhit. Shevchenko and Inzaghi made the same runs they always made, but the service wasn't the same.
In the thirty-eighth minute, Lazio struck. A counter-attack, swift and brutal. Stanković carried the ball from halfway, drew Nesta, and slipped a pass to López. The Argentine cut inside Maldini and curled a shot past Dida. The Stadio Olimpico erupted.
"López! López! Grande Lazio!"
Leo sat forward, his ankle throbbing in sympathy. The system tracked the goal.
[Lazio 1 - 0 Milan. Scorer: Claudio López (38').]
[Milan Possession: 61%. Shots on Target: 2.]
Half-time came. The Italian pundits were already questioning Ancelotti's setup. "Senza Carter, Milan non ha creatività." Without Carter, Milan have no creativity.
The second half was better. Milan pushed forward, desperate for an equaliser. In the sixty-seventh minute, they got it. A corner from Pirlo, whipped toward the near post. Maldini rose above everyone and thundered a header past Peruzzi.
"Maldini! Maldini! Il capitano!"
Leo pumped his fist. The system updated.
[Lazio 1 - 1 Milan. Scorer: Paolo Maldini (67').]
The final twenty minutes were a siege. Milan threw everything forward. Shevchenko hit the post. Inzaghi had a goal disallowed for offside. But Lazio held on.
The final whistle blew. 1-1.
[Match Complete. Lazio 1 - 1 AC Milan.]
[Serie A: 1 Point. League Position: 3rd.]
The pundits were brutal. "Milan drop points again. The Scudetto is slipping away. They need Carter back."
Leo switched off the television and stared at the ceiling. He was eighteen years old, and an entire club was waiting for him to save them.
---
Wednesday, 2nd October 2002. Champions League. San Siro.
Deportivo La Coruña. The Spanish side were dangerous—Valerón, Tristán, Makaay. Ancelotti named the same lineup, Rui Costa again in the trequartista role.
Leo watched from the stands this time, his ankle in a protective boot, sitting with the other injured players. The San Siro was electric, the Curva Sud in full voice. But there was a nervous energy. The fans knew their team was vulnerable.
The first half was a disaster. Deportivo pressed high, disrupted Milan's rhythm, and scored twice. Makaay in the twenty-second minute, a poacher's finish from a Valerón through ball. Tristán in the forty-first, a bullet header from a corner.
"Makaay! Tristán! Il Milan è in crisi!"
The San Siro fell silent. Leo sat with his head in his hands. The system was brutal.
[Milan 0 - 2 Deportivo. Scorers: Makaay (22'), Tristán (41').]
[Milan Possession: 58%. Defensive Errors: 3.]
Half-time. Ancelotti's face on the touchline was a mask of frustration. The Curva Sud tried to lift their team, singing louder, waving flags. But the damage was done.
The second half was better. Milan pulled one back in the sixty-first minute—Shevchenko, a solo run and a clinical finish. The San Siro roared back to life.
"Sheva! Sheva! Sheva!"
But Deportivo defended deep, absorbed the pressure, and hit on the break. The final whistle blew. 2-1.
[Match Complete. AC Milan 1 - 2 Deportivo La Coruña.]
[Champions League Group Stage: 3 Points from 2 Matches. Group Position: 3rd.]
Leo hobbled out of the stadium, the boot heavy on his foot. Fans called out to him. "Torna presto, Leo!" Come back soon. "Abbiamo bisogno di te!" We need you.
He nodded, unable to speak.
---
Sunday, 6th October 2002. San Siro.
Brescia at home. A team Milan should beat comfortably. But Brescia had Roberto Baggio, even at thirty-five still capable of moments of magic.
Ancelotti made changes. Rui Costa was dropped, Seedorf moved into the trequartista role, and Massimo Ambrosini came into midfield. More physical, less creative.
The match was a grind. Milan dominated possession—72% in the first half—but created nothing clear. Baggio, meanwhile, was a ghost, drifting into spaces, pulling strings. In the twenty-eighth minute, he played a through ball that split Milan's defence. Luca Toni, young and raw, fired wide.
The San Siro groaned. "Dai, ragazzi! Dai!" Come on, boys!
Leo watched from the stands, frustrated. The system tracked the stats.
[Milan 0 - 0 Brescia. Half-Time.]
[Shots: Milan 8 (2 on target), Brescia 3 (1). Possession: 72% - 28%.]
The second half was more of the same. Milan pushed, Brescia defended. Shevchenko hit the bar with a header. Inzaghi had a goal disallowed for a marginal offside. Pirlo's free-kick was tipped over by the Brescia keeper.
The final whistle blew. 0-0.
The San Siro was silent, except for a smattering of boos. Not loud, not sustained, but there. Disappointment.
[Match Complete. AC Milan 0 - 0 Brescia.]
[Serie A: 1 Point. League Position: 4th.]
The media the next day was scathing. "Milan senza idee." Milan without ideas. "Carter è indispensabile." Carter is indispensable.
Leo read the headlines and felt the weight pressing down. He was eighteen. He'd played four competitive matches for Milan. And they couldn't win without him.
---
The Weeks Passed
Milan beat Empoli's local rivals, Como, 2-0 in a scrappy match. Shevchenko scored both goals. Then they traveled to Bergamo to face Atalanta and won 3-1, Inzaghi grabbing a brace. Against weaker teams, Milan's individual quality was enough. Shevchenko, Inzaghi, Pirlo, Seedorf—they were world-class. They could overpower the bottom half of Serie A.
But against the strong teams, the cracks showed.
Saturday, 19th October 2002. Stadio delle Alpi, Turin.
Juventus away. The reigning champions. Lippi's side were a machine—Buffon, Thuram, Nedvěd, Del Piero, Trezeguet. The match that would define the Scudetto race.
Ancelotti set up cautiously. Rui Costa returned to the trequartista role. The first half was a tactical battle, neither side creating much. Then, in the forty-second minute, Juventus struck. A Nedvěd free-kick, curled into the top corner. Dida didn't move.
"Nedvěd! Nedvěd! La Juve vola!"
The second half was a Milan onslaught. They pushed, they probed, they created chances. Shevchenko hit the post. Inzaghi forced a world-class save from Buffon. Seedorf's long-range effort was tipped over.
But Juventus defended like champions. In the eighty-eighth minute, they broke. A counter-attack, Del Piero slipped a pass to Trezeguet, and the Frenchman made it two.
"Trezeguet! È finita!"
The final whistle blew. 2-0.
[Match Complete. Juventus 2 - 0 AC Milan.]
[Serie A: 0 Points. League Position: 5th. Gap to 1st: 9 points.]
The Scudetto was slipping away.
---
Milanello. Late October.
Leo's ankle was healing faster than expected. The physios cleared him for light training—jogging, then running, then ball work. His mum watched from the sidelines, anxious. Chloe called every night. "You're coming back at the perfect time. The Champions League is still alive. The Coppa Italia is still alive. Forget the Scudetto. Focus on what you can win."
Mendes called with updates. "The club is not panicking. They know this is a long-term project. But they need you back. The fans need you back."
Maldini found him in the gym one afternoon. "How is the ankle?"
"Good. Strong."
"Good. Because we have Bologna at the weekend. And then the Champions League. We need you."
Leo nodded. "I'm ready."
Maldini smiled, a rare, genuine smile. "I know."
---
Friday, 25th October 2002.
Ancelotti pulled Leo aside after training. "You start on Sunday. Bologna at home. I will give you sixty minutes, maybe seventy. Don't try to do everything. Just play your game. The rest will come."
Leo nodded. His heart was pounding. Sixty minutes. His first match in over a month.
The system flickered.
[Injury: Fully Recovered.]
[Fitness Level: 94%. Match Sharpness: 81%.]
[Next Match: Serie A - AC Milan vs. Bologna. 27th October 2002. San Siro.]
[Objective: Win on return. Reward: 500 Charm Points, +2 OVR, Media Narrative Shift.]
Leo looked at the screen and smiled. He was back.
---
Sunday, 27th October 2002. San Siro.
The stadium was packed. Eighty thousand people, the Curva Sud a seething mass of red and black. When Leo's name was announced in the starting lineup, the roar was deafening.
"Carter! Carter! Il nostro fenomeno è tornato!" Our phenomenon has returned!
He stood in the tunnel, his heart hammering. Maldini was beside him. "Welcome back, ragazzo."
The whistle blew.
Bologna were no pushovers. Signori, the veteran striker, still dangerous. But Milan were a different team with Leo on the pitch. He touched the ball early—a simple pass to Seedorf, a move into space. The rhythm came back quickly.
In the twenty-third minute, Milan scored. Leo collected a pass from Pirlo on the edge of the box, dropped a shoulder, and curled a shot toward the far corner. The keeper got a hand to it, but Shevchenko was there to tap home the rebound.
"Sheva! Sheva! Milan in vantaggio!"
The San Siro erupted. Leo jogged back, a grin on his face. He hadn't scored, but he'd created it.
[Assist Registered. Match Rating: 7.2.]
Milan 1, Bologna 0.
The second goal came in the fifty-eighth minute. A free-kick from Pirlo on the edge of the box. Leo stood over it, the system highlighting the gap.
[Long Shots (Level 5) Activated.]
[Curled Finish (Level 5) Activated.]
He struck it. The ball curled over the wall, dipped viciously, and nestled in the top corner. The keeper didn't move.
The San Siro exploded.
"Leo! Leo! Leo Carter! Il re è tornato!" The king is back!
Leo ran to the Curva Sud, arms outstretched, and the noise washed over him. His teammates mobbed him. Shevchenko grabbed his shoulders. "Welcome back, my friend. Welcome back."
[Goal Scored. Match Rating: 7.2 -> 8.8.]
Milan 2, Bologna 0.
Ancelotti substituted him in the seventy-first minute. A standing ovation from every corner of the San Siro. Leo walked off, clapping the crowd, his heart full.
The final whistle blew. 2-0.
[Match Complete. AC Milan 2 - 0 Bologna.]
[Goal: Carter (1). Assist: Carter (1). Match Rating: 8.9 (Man of the Match).]
[Charm Points Earned: 400. Total: 10,600.]
In the dressing room, Ancelotti put a hand on his shoulder. "You are back. Now we focus on the Champions League. We need to win the group."
Leo nodded. The Scudetto was probably gone—nine points behind Juventus with twenty-four matches left was a mountain. But the Champions League was wide open. The Coppa Italia was there. Trophies were still possible.
He was back. And he was ready.