The referee's whistle sent Blackpool back into action, but their previous swagger was gone. Harry could see it in the way that their center-half kept glancing over his shoulder, how their full-backs stayed deeper now instead of bombing forward.
They were scared.
From his position on the left wing, Harry watched their midfield try to slow things down again. They played short passes to keep possession, and run down the clock. But Frank wasn't having it.
"Press them!" the gaffer screamed from the touchline. "Don't give them time to breathe!"
Danny Mills nodded from the back and started pushing the defensive line higher. Jayden Rowe, Jamie Walsh, and Noah Perring pressed their midfield. Even Tommy Henderson was rushing his goal kicks.
The intensity cranked up another level.
In the sixty-eighth minute, Salford came close.
Riley Croft got the ball on the right wing and cut inside, leaving their left-back for dead. His shot was perfectly struck. A low, hard strike heading for the bottom corner.
Their keeper flung himself across the goal, fingertips just touching the ball. It smacked off the post and bounced clear.
"So close!" Frank threw his hands up.
The Salford fans groaned as one. Harry's heart hammered against his ribs.
'We needed that one.' The same thought echoed in everyone's mind.
Three minutes later, Blackpool hit back.
A quick counter-attack caught Salford's high line sleeping. Their striker broke through, one-on-one with Tommy Henderson. The crowd went quiet.
From Harry's position, he could only watch as their number nine rounded Tommy and had an open goal.
He side-footed it toward the empty net.
Danny Mills appeared from nowhere, sliding in desperately. His boot connected with the ball just as it crossed the line, hooking it away for a corner.
"Jesus Christ!" Harry heard Kai Moreno shout. "That was close!"
Danny picked himself up, mud streaked across his captain's armband. "Stay focused! We're still in this!"
The corner came to nothing, but the message was clear. One mistake and it was over.
---
Harry's legs felt like lead weights. The system flashed a warning in his peripheral vision.
[Stamina: 32/47 - Performance declining]
'I need to be smart about when to make my runs,' he thought, taking deep breaths as play moved to the other end.
His lungs burned, but his mind was clearer than ever. Every pass, every movement, every gap in their defense—he could see it all.
---
The seventy-fourth minute brought another heart-stopping moment.
This time it was Harry who almost delivered the equalizer.
Noah Perring picked up a loose ball in midfield and spotted Harry's run down the left flank. The pass was perfect, splitting two defenders.
Harry took it on his chest, let it drop, and smashed it with his left foot from twenty yards out.
The Blackpool keeper was beaten. The ball was heading for the top corner.
Until their center-half threw his body in the way. The ball cannoned off his shoulder and flew over the crossbar for a corner.
"Unlucky, son!" someone shouted from the stands.
Harry bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. That had been his chance. That had been their chance.
The system's notifications were becoming background noise now. All that mattered was the next opportunity.
Five minutes later, Blackpool reminded everyone why they were the better team on paper.
A long ball over the top caught Ollie Waters napping at left-back. Their winger was through, just him and Tommy Henderson.
Harry watched from the halfway line, too far away to help. The winger looked up, picked his spot, and curled a shot toward the far post.
Tommy dived full stretch, his fingertips brushing the ball just enough to send it wide.
The keeper rolled on the grass, clutching his shoulder from the dive. But he was grinning.
"Come on then!" Tommy yelled at his teammates. "Is that all you've got?"
The Salford section erupted. Even the neutrals were on their feet now.
Harry glanced at the sideline clock. Eighty minutes gone. There were ten minutes left to play, plus stoppage time.
Ten minutes to find a miracle.
---
The fatigue was hitting hard now. Every sprint felt like he was running through treacle. But Harry could feel something building in the match. Like a storm gathering strength.
His positioning stat was 54/100, one of his highest attributes—good enough to know where to be. His off-the-ball movement was the same. If he could just find the right space at the right moment...
---
Frank made his final substitution. Zak Donnelly came on for Jayden Rowe, fresh legs in midfield.
"Harry!" Frank shouted as Jamie jogged past. "Drop deeper! Help link the play!"
Harry nodded, falling back to pick up the ball from defense. His pace was shot, but his brain was still working.
The system had shown him something in those stats. His vision was 48/100, his passing 45/100. Not spectacular, but enough to unlock a defense if he picked the right moment.
Blackpool were defending deep now, all eleven men behind the ball. Their coach was screaming at them to waste time, to take the easy fouls, to see out the win.
But they looked tired too. Their pressing wasn't as sharp. Gaps were appearing.
In the eighty-third minute, Harry saw an opportunity.
Zack Donelly won the ball back in midfield and immediately looked for Harry. The pass came to his feet just inside the Blackpool half.
Their right-back was caught between pressing and staying back. Their center-halfs were watching Riley Croft and Nathan Keene in the box.
Nobody was watching the space behind their midfield.
Harry looked up once, saw Noah Perring making a run, and played the ball into that space with the outside of his right foot.
Noah took it beautifully, first touch to control, second touch to set himself.
The keeper was off his line, making himself big.
Noah struck it cleanly, low and hard.
But the keeper got down well, pushing it around the post for a corner.
"Brilliant ball, Harry!" Jamie called from the back.
The corner kick was swung in by Riley Croft. Bodies flew everywhere in the box. Danny Mills rose highest, his header goal-bound.
Their keeper tipped it over the bar for another corner.