......
Time was fleeting.
Ball after ball and shot after shot, the two sides contested it, playing almost equally despite one side having something almost supernatural playing for them.
But maybe it wasn't just one side.
By the time the clock crept toward the eighty-fifth minute, every second seemed to grow heavier, as though the match itself were reluctant to let another one pass.
Around AT&T Stadium, Tens of thousands of Spanish supporters stood rather than sat, as though remaining on their feet might somehow help their team find the goal they needed.
But it wasn't just in the stadium.
The same tension had spread beyond Dallas.
In Madrid, bars that had been loud earlier in the evening had fallen strangely quiet.
Families crowded around televisions in living rooms, refusing to look away.
In Barcelona, Valencia and Seville, people watched from cafés and terraces, cups left untouched on tables as the minutes disappeared.
