On Sunday morning, during his press conference, Allegri sounded the alarm: "Pulisic has come down with a fever. I don't know if he'll be available tomorrow." Reports suggested his temperature had climbed to 39 degrees; Chris could barely get out of bed. In the afternoon, Milan travelled to Turin, but Christian stayed home. It feels like a curse -the Pulisic-Leão partnership, essentially the strike duo Milan had anointed over the summer.

They have already scored 12 goals between them (the best partnership in Serie A), and yet they've played together only once: in the derby. And in Turin, once again, Rafa would have to do without Chris -in a decisive match with Milan looking to catch Napoli at the top and open up a gap on Roma and Juve in the Champions League race.

On Monday morning, a faint glimmer of hope: Pulisic was feeling better and travelled alone to join the squad in Turin. If he felt well enough, he could make the bench. And he did, though with limited minutes in his legs. Twenty minutes in, the match was already a nightmare: Milan were 2-0 down and looked sterile, passive, their possession toothless and unthreatening. In Turin, against Toro, they had won just once in the last 12 seasons. Monday night seemed destined to be another grim chapter.

Then Rabiot blasted one in from 30 metres to drag Milan back into it. Moments later, Leão pulled up clutching his adductor while shooting and was forced off. Pulisic didn't come on -he didn't have 70 minutes in him- and Ricci replaced Rafa instead. Once again, no Pulisic-Leão partnership.

At 65 minutes, finally, Landucci, Allegri's assistant, taking instructions over the phone from a suspended Allegri up in the stands, sent on Pulisic. Curiosity hung in the air: less than 24 hours earlier, he'd been feverish, drained, unable to get out of bed. Now he was being asked to flip a decisive match on one of Milan's most historically hostile grounds. It felt like too much, even for Captain America.

And yet, it took him all of 35 seconds. Pulisic brought down a difficult cross from the left, controlled it just enough to set up a left-footed strike, and buried the 2-1. So much for being unwell. A few minutes later, already spent, he returned to the bench, downing a sachet of electrolytes to recover some strength.

Ten minutes after his first goal, Milan built down the right through a neat combination between Loftus-Cheek and Ricci, who whipped in a low, curling ball towards the centre of the box. It looked like no one would get there -as ever, Milan lacked a true No. 9 to attack those deliveries. But then, out of nowhere, he arrived, ghosting in behind Asllani and guiding a left-footed, billiard-like finish into the far corner. 3-2. Christian Pulisic, doubtful until the very last moment, had won it on his own. In his post-match Instagram caption, he jokingly called it his "Flu Game."

With 7 goals and 2 assists -despite already missing four matches- he sits atop the Serie A scoring charts alongside Lautaro Martínez, and he is the player who accounts the most goal or assist every 90 minutes across Europe's top seven leagues. Since his arrival in Italy, only Lautaro -a pure No. 9- has matched his output.

Yet there remains the sense that he's still underrated, still not talked about enough. Perhaps it's his quiet, introverted demeanour off the pitch, in a world that increasingly demands superstar athletes be larger-than-life at all times. Or maybe it's because, on the pitch, he is incredibly direct, clean, surgical. No frills, no aesthetic flourishes -he goes straight to goal. He's linear, on and off the pitch, and fans have always lionised the flamboyant, the mercurial. But the truth is simple: in Serie A, no one has his level of impact relative to minutes played.

In the year that will take him, as captain, to a home World Cup in the United States, Pulisic is in his footballing prime. And it'll take more than a fever to bring down Captain America.