Arsenal, to their credit, did not panic. They continued to dominate possession, their passing crisp and incisive, their movement a blur of a well-oiled, beautiful machinery, with the likes of Reiss Nelson and Joe Willock pulling the strings.
But we were resolute, our defensive shape a compact, disciplined, impenetrable wall of a red and blue. We were a coiled spring, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash our venomous, lightning-fast counter-attacks.
They equalized in the sixty-seventh minute, a well-taken goal that was a testament to their quality, their patience, their sheer, undeniable belief in their own philosophy. A long, probing passing move had stretched our defence, and a clever, incisive through ball had found their star striker, Eddie Nketiah, in a pocket of space.
He took one touch to control the ball and a second to slot it past our goalkeeper with a calm, clinical finish.
1-1.
