The sound inside Selhurst Park was deafening, the stands bouncing as if the concrete itself had a pulse.
Red-and-blue scarves were waving, flags thrashing above the crowd, and the chant of "Eze! Eze! Eze!" rang loud enough that it carried straight into living rooms across the country.
The scoreboard in the corner glared down, unapologetic in its message: Crystal Palace 2 – 0 Arsenal.
On the Arsenal side of things, disbelief cut deeper than silence.
"This is unbelievable… we're two down?" one fan groaned on the watch-along stream, his hand buried in his hair.
"It's Palace, man. Palace! And we're making them look like something bigger. We just beat Real Madrid 3 games ago, so what is this display?"
Another voice, sharper, answered: "Mate, don't disrespect Palace like that. They've been up for this from the first whistle. Look at Eze, he's running the whole game. Our midfield's getting walked through. Plus, we got saved by Izan in that Real Madrid game, and he's not here."
