The match had barely begun, but already the tone felt electric—too fast for comfort and too sharp to ignore.
Arsenal were playing with the certainty they always had when they had their talisman with them..
The ball pinged between white shirts with a rhythm that looked rehearsed, but was anything but robotic.
Ødegaard dropped deep.
Saliba pushed wide.
Rice checked his run to drag Dalot out of shape.
And all the while, Izan stayed quiet.
Unmarked, not because they forgot him—but because they hadn't figured out how to reach him.
United had done their homework.
Casemiro was never more than a few feet from the channel between Ødegaard and Izan.
Lisandro Martinez occasionally stepped up from the back line to pinch the angle.
Bruno hovered, not tracking back completely, but shadowing Rice just enough to disrupt Arsenal's build-up.
It was working.
For six minutes.
Then Ødegaard did something subtle.
