The referee's whistle faded, and the ball returned to Arsenal's possession with deliberate urgency.
The crowd was alive now, energized by Izan's free-kick masterpiece—but there was something different about the way the young forward moved.
His body language wasn't just confident; it was defiant.
He wasn't playing to equalize anymore.
He was playing like the game belonged to him.
White received the ball deep and angled a clean pass into Merino.
Merino turned quickly and saw Izan already pointing where he wanted it—into space, behind Trent.
The former didn't waste any time zipping the pass forward, and Izan was gone.
He didn't slow to trap it.
He caressed the ball in stride, letting it roll with him, guiding it rather than stopping it.
Trent, approaching cautiously adjusted his body and tried to match Izan's pace stride for stride, but Izan faked a cross with his right, then chopped back with his left in one seamless, fluid motion.
