And Izan… Izan didn't even look back.
It was the indifference of it all, the way he simply carried on, as though tired of swatting flies.
His left leg drew back, muscles flexing with coiled rage, the crowd sensing it before it happened as Drury's voice cracked with anticipation.
"He's wound it up—he's going to hit it—"
And then—
BOOM!
The left foot thundered through the ball, the sound alone like a cannon loosed into the night.
....
[A few moments ago]
From the technical area, Hansi Flick stood in silence, lips slightly parted, eyes tracking every inch of grass that Izan touched.
The ball had been hoisted up clear with Flick looking once at Izan, the ball and then back again, but this time, things weren't the same.
"Wie hat er(How did he)", he said, but couldn't finish.
Something in the air shifted, and it was something that Flick had learned to fear during his years on the touchline.
