Emre Demir's knuckleball free-kick had done more than just level the score; it had thrown a lit match into a barrel of gunpowder.
The game, which had started as a clash of styles, now descended into a wonderfully chaotic, gloriously petty, and utterly captivating street fight.
The rest of the first half was a blur of crunching tackles, theatrical dives, and furious, vein-popping arguments.
It was less of a football match and more of a 15-minute rolling brawl that occasionally involved a ball.
The two managers were the conductors of the chaos.
Ethan, having seen his team respond to the physical intimidation, was a whirlwind of passionate energy, living every kick.
"Don't let them bully you! Get tight! Win your battles!" he roared, his voice hoarse.
The Fleetwood manager, meanwhile, was a spectacle of pure, unadulterated rage.
