Chapter 597 The Diagnosis
The Juventus players, coaches, and the rest of the technical staff took their team bus and departed from Rome the following day. They arrived in Turin two and a half hours later, around midday, only to be received with yet another hero's welcome.
Thousands of supporters donning Juventus' stripped black and white colors lined and crowded the streets leading to the Vinovo to welcome the Coppa Italia champions. They cheered, waved, danced, and played all sorts of musical instruments as the Juventus bus slowly made its way towards the gates of the training center. It was like a festival in that part of Turin.
The only blemish to the celebrations was that there was no trophy parade, especially since there were still crucial matches, like the Champions League final, for the Juventus players and coaches to consider. They all remained seated in the bus without showcasing the Coppa Italia medals and trophy they had won the previous night. Only a few overexcited players occasionally pushed their heads out of the bus windows to wave to the similarly enthusiastic fans as the bus moved forward.
After thirty more minutes, the bus finally snaked its way out of the crowds of supporters and entered the gates of the Vinovo. The driver expertly brought it to a halt, and without further ado, the players started walking out.
The first ones to step out were the two Juventus medics, followed by Zachary, who could only walk with a pronounced limp. The injury he received after taking the tackle from Danilo had worsened overnight. He even had to hold on to the shoulder of one of the medics for support as he stepped down from the bus.
The reporters waiting beyond the barricades immediately filmed Zachary with their phones and cameras as they saw him limping out of the bus. The hubbub of activity increased among their ranks, and some didn't lose time before starting to yell out their questions.
"Zachary," one reporter shouted, "How do you feel? Are you seriously injured?"
"Zachary! Do you think you can return to training soon?"
"Zachary! Do you think you will play in the Champions League final against Barcelona?"
Zachary felt helpless when his ears picked up the questions from the reporters. He was already in a bad mood after he found that his injury had worsened overnight. He felt even worse when all those voices began clamoring around him to inquire when he would return to training or if he would play the Champions League final in two and a half weeks.
"Ignore them," Coach Max Allegri's voice suddenly sounded behind Zachary. "Don't worry about the inconsequential things. At the moment, you only need to go to the hospital for further diagnosis. We'll think and talk about everything else later. Understood?"
"Yes, coach," Zachary said.
By then, his other teammates had stepped out of the bus. They also wished him the best and encouraged him to stay positive while heading to the hospital. In return, he thanked them for their concern and encouraging words before leaving with Luca and Marco, the two medics.
They soon boarded a Juventus van and quickly departed the Vinovo under the witness of the reporters and hundreds of fans present. Within forty minutes, they arrived at the Juventus Stadium.
They parked the car and headed straight to the J|Medical, where Zachary underwent several stringent diagnostic tests to determine the extent of his injury. The top specialists at the health center associated with Juventus quickly found the root of the matter and brought him to one of the waiting rooms to discuss his injury.
"It's nice to meet you, Zachary," the medic in the white lab coat said after they settled down on the sofas in the room. "I go by the name of Marcello Bassi. I'm a physiotherapist here and a big fan of yours and the Juventus team behind you."
"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Bassi," Zachary said with a smile. "It's always great to meet a Juventus fan."
"But it doesn't beat the feeling of meeting a Juventus star out of the training facilities." The doctor chuckled. "By the way, no need to address me formally. Just call me Macello, and that will do."
"Okay, Marcello, it is," Zachary said. He glanced at the file before the medic and continued, "I'm a big boy. Just give it to me straight. Is my injury serious?"
Dr. Marcello Bassi smiled assuringly. "You suffered a mild calf contusion after taking a blow to your lower leg. Fortunately, the on-pitch medics handled the first aid quite well, and you only need around twelve days to recover completely."
"Twelve days!" Zachary frowned. "Today is Thursday, May 21st. If I factor in twelve days of recovery, I can only return to training on Monday, June 1st. That will only be four days before the day of the Champions League final against Barcelona. Is there a way we can shorten my recovery time?"
"No," the doctor said. "The time I have given is the shortest we can go before allowing you to return to your routine schedule of training and playing matches. Moreover, this time may lengthen to fourteen or twenty-one days if you don't follow our advice and take proper measures to care for your injury."
"I see," Zachary said and expelled a heavy breath. He felt depressed when he learned he would have to sit out Juventus' last two Serie A fixtures. That was even more so when he recalled that he would no longer have an opportunity to break the record of 36 Serie A goals a season set by Gino Rossetti when he played for Torino during the 1928-29 season.
"Look on the bright side," Dr. Marcello Bassi said after taking in his reaction. "The injury could have turned out worse, and you might have had to stay out of action for maybe a month. But what you suffered is only a mild calf contusion. If we manage it well, you will recover and have four days to prepare for the Champions League final against Barcelona. In my books, this is the best outcome, as you'll be able to partake in the only remaining game that still matters for Juventus."
"That's indeed so," Zachary said with a smile. Of course, he knew he had gotten off lucky with a twelve-day injury. But as a footballer who loved being on the pitch, he couldn't help but be greedy for more. "So, what should I do to completely recover from this injury within the twelve days you mentioned?" He sighed and faced the doctor.
"Now, you are talking." Dr. Marcello Bassi grinned and clapped his hands. "Firstly, you must not strain the leg during the next twelve days. That means no exercising and no kicking the ball. Do you copy?"
"Yes, doctor," Zachary answered.
The doctor nodded and continued. "Secondly, you must understand that the whole team, including your coach and the Juventus board, are worried sick about your situation. They have already tasked me with ensuring you don't mess up during your recovery. So, you'll be coming here every day, and I and the other experts here at J|Medical will take you through the rehabilitation process ourselves. Understood?"
"Yes, doctor," Zachary replied.
The doctor nodded, about to say something else. But just suddenly, the phone he had placed on the side vibrated. He mumbled a sorry and picked up the communication gadget before glancing at the screen.
"It's Coach Massimiliano Allegri himself!" He exclaimed and raised his head to look at Zachary. "He might be following up on your case. Sorry! I need to pick this up."
"No worries," Zachary said with a smile. "Just go ahead and take the call."
The doctor nodded and pressed the accept button. He then spent the next two minutes conversing with the coach, the subject being Zachary's injury. He explained the nature of Zachary's injury and mentioned the recovery time about twice before eventually ending the call.
No sooner had he put the phone back on the table than Zachary's own began ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. "The coach is also calling me," he said to the doctor before pressing the accept button.
"Hello, coach," he spoke into the phone after holding it against his ear.
"Hello, Zachary," Coach Max Allegri replied from the other end of the line. "I've just heard the diagnosis of your injury from Dr. Marcello Bassi. It's good news that you only require around twelve days to recover. So, this is my advice. Don't worry about other matters. You must follow the doctor's instructions strictly and ensure you're back to full fitness in the stipulated time. Then, I and the other coaches will do our jobs to prepare you for the UEFA Champions League final during the remaining four days. Okay?"
"Yes, coach," Zachary said like a dutiful soldier. "I'll follow the doctor's instructions to the letter."
"That's good," Coach Max Allegri said. "I have said all I have to say. Let me leave you in the hands of the doctor, and I wish you a quick recovery."
"Thanks, coach."
"You're welcome."
The coach then ended the call.
Zachary smiled and pushed the phone back into his pocket. He then glanced at the quietly waiting Dr. Marcello Bassi, and they soon began discussing the rehabilitation plan for his injury.
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