As the fourth official held up the board for three minutes of stoppage time, I thought that was it. Our last chance gone. A 2-2 draw.
A decent result against a team like Inter, but not the win we deserved, not the win that Eze and Semenyo deserved after everything they'd put in. I could see the disappointment on the players' faces, the realization that we'd let it slip away.
But then, one last attack. One last roll of the dice. One last chance to snatch victory from the jaws of a draw. The ball was cleared from an Inter corner, a long, looping clearance that fell to Eze, just inside our own half.
He had two players on him, their defenders closing him down, trying to snuff out the danger, but with a shimmy of his hips and a drop of his shoulder, a piece of skill that was pure instinct, he was away.
