Izan straightened from his bow, turning his back on the raging wall of Parisian fans.
His teammates were already swarming him, dragging him away, tugging at his jersey, pulling him back toward the centre circle.
Their hands weren't just celebratory.
They were protective.
Every one of them remembered the yellow card he had been shown earlier for provoking the crowd, and the fear that lightning might strike twice hung heavy.
Another booking here would have been the cruellest twist.
"Come on, Izan! Enough!" Timber barked in his ear, one arm hooked tight around his shoulder.
Saka and Rice both shoved him gently from behind, their faces flushed with joy and panic in equal measure.
They were laughing, shouting, grinning, but the urgency in their movements was clear: get him away before the referee thought too hard about it.
The commentary raged above the chaos.
"That's three tonight!" Darren Fletcher's voice was almost cracking, carried by disbelief.
