As Lukas jogged back into position after the celebration, Stuttgart wore the expressions of a team suddenly aware of the size of the mountain now in front of them. Down to ten men. A goal down. Away from home. Against a side whose confidence now bordered on frightening.
On the pitch, Karazor and Stiller tried to reorganise, gesturing to the defensive line to compress the spaces. Chabot pointed, Dakhil long gone in the tunnel after his red card, leaving Stuttgart's back-line stretched thin.
The match restarted with Stuttgart's kick-off. But something had changed.
Eintracht smelled blood.
They pressed as a unit, moving in synchronised waves — Larsson stepping up, Bahoya shadowing passing lanes, Koch squeezing the space where Demirović wanted to drop.
"Frankfurt look hungry," the commentator said. "They look like a team that wants to end this right now."
