Red and white confetti drifted like soft rain as Izan, still half-smiling from the podium moments earlier, jogged along the touchline with the trophy in his hand.
The crowd roared each time he lifted it high, a thousand flashlights flickering back like stars.
Near the advertising boards, a reporter stepped forward, her mic trembling slightly from the noise.
"Izan," she called out with a grin that carried both awe and exhaustion, "first of all, congratulations, world champion."
Izan stopped, catching his breath, before handing over the trophy to Nwaneri beside him, who walked away.
"Thank you," he said, nodding lightly while positioning his medal well.
The reporter leaned closer.
"So, I have to ask… how was it celebrating up there with Donald Trump?"
That got a small laugh out of him.
"Honestly?" he said.
"I was surprised. I didn't expect that. But he was there, smiling, celebrating… and we just kind of went with it. It's been that kind of night."
