As the starters disappeared down the tunnel for Guardiola's halftime team talk, Pep Lijnders turned toward the substitutes.
"Lukas. Cherki. Savinho. Abdul."
He pointed toward the far side of the pitch.
"Go warm up."
The four immediately grabbed footballs and jogged toward the touchline.
They began with short passing drills before gradually increasing the tempo.
One-touch.
Two-touch.
Half-volleys.
Then Cherki looked at Lukas with a mischievous smile.
Without saying a word, he scooped the ball high into the air.
It climbed almost thirty metres before beginning its descent.
Lukas never took his eyes off it.
He shuffled underneath the dropping ball.
The instant it reached him—
THUMP.
His chest absorbed every ounce of its momentum.
The ball died completely before dropping toward his thigh without ever threatening to bounce away.
The travelling City supporters applauded.
Lukas casually juggled it three times before flicking it back toward Cherki.
