"DAVID RAYA HOLDS!" Alan Smith roared, voice spiking through the cold tension of Wembley.
"It could've been curtains. It could've been a Liverpool lead. But Arsenal survive — by inches, by nerves, by sheer bloody will!"
The Arsenal end erupted — not in celebration, but in relief.
"You can see the look on Raya's face. Even he thought that was in, and his manager isn't happy," Alan said as the camera cut to Arteta, who was looking calm, if calm meant flailing his arms around to convey what he wanted.
Raya rose to his feet with the ball hugged tight to his chest, taking his time as his lungs heaved.
Then, with a sharp breath and a glance upfield, he yelled loud enough to cut through the roar.
"Spread out! Go! Wide!"
His voice cracked through the defensive line like a slap of urgency.
Lewis-Skelly peeled away toward the left while Timber tucked closer to Saliba, and Rice dropped into the right pocket.
But Liverpool weren't following men anymore — they were haunting spaces.
