Izan stepped to the spot, cradling the ball in his hands like it was alive.
He lowered the ball, squatting slightly to place it on the white dot, adjusted it once and then nudged it a fraction with his fingertips before backing up a few steps away.
Alisson was already bouncing on his line.
The Brazilian keeper muttered something under his breath — a prayer, maybe. Or a curse, but Izan didn't look shaken.
He just stared.
"Look at that," Martin Tyler breathed, reverent. "This is it. This could determine the fate of the two teams. Is this it, or is Arsenal going to pull out an extra-time game affair?"
Izan tilted his head as the referee raised his arm… and brought the whistle to his lips for the umpteenth time in the game, and then the Shrill blast.
"He's ice cold," Alan Smith murmured, barely above a whisper.
FWEEEEEE, and
Izan took one step—
