"Oh, it's fallen for Izan!" the commentator roared, voice rising above the stadium's noise.
The young attacking midfielder steadied himself, breath tight, boot hovering just above the ball as the crowd gasped in collective anticipation.
He drew his leg back, the floodlights catching the sweat on his temple as the noise around the stadium swelled.
"Izan Hernández—!" the commentary came roaring as Izan let fly from the edge of the box.
The ball bent beautifully, moving through a sea of bodies that had thrown themselves into the way to block the ball before curling away from Courtois's desperate fingertips, before kissing the inside of the far post and snapping into the side netting.
For a heartbeat, Lincoln Field froze.
Then the noise hit, an explosion of red and white euphoria.
The Arsenal end erupted in a wave of sound so fierce it almost drowned out the commentator's voice.
