Rows of data scrolled, bland at first: positions, stats, contracts, nationalities. He lingered on an aging striker whose sprint had been halved by seasons of realism and neglect. With a few deliberate keystrokes he gave the veteran back his stride, not to falsify time but to honor what once had been: the late bloom, the thunderous volley, the single season that still lived in fans’ memories. A number became an echo, then a story.