Without pausing for breath, Izan rotated his hips and swept the outside of his right foot against the ball.
It curved.
Hard.
A trivela, pure and perfect, like an artist curling paint into an empty canvas.
The ball spun violently in mid-air, curling outward and wide toward Arsenal's right flank.
"What a ball! Outside of the boot! That's outrageous!"Jim Beglin shouted now, almost startled,
The crowd gasped in tandem as Martinelli, who had just crossed the halfway line, saw it coming—spinning toward him like a divine message written in flight.
He opened his stride, legs pumping, and stretched his right foot outwards—
The ball dropped.
And Martinelli reached for the touch.
His boot kissed the ball on the full stretch—just enough to bring it under control, his first touch cushioning it against the weight of that glorious trivela like a gymnast catching mid-air momentum in a single perfect landing.
