In the days before his death, Luca pushed through pain the way athletes are taught to do: ignore the warning signs, stay focused, keep playing. But his body was already sounding the alarm. Fatigue, dizziness, and blood in his stool were not just inconveniences; they were signals of a serious, escalating crisis. When he collapsed during a match, the fear became real, yet he still tried to live normally, going out with a relative, trying to hold onto a sense of ordinary life.
That final phone call to his mother, asking if she thought he was dying, captured the terror no teenager should ever feel. The autopsy’s conclusion—that he drowned in his own stomach acid after severe vomiting and aspiration—was as brutal as it was unexpected. His club, Metaloglobus București, and the wider football community mourned not just a player, but a son, a friend, a dreamer whose story ended far too soon. His death is a stark reminder that even the strongest bodies can be fragile, and that every symptom matters when a life is still being written.
