But Tottenham were there.
Already.
Richarlison closed in aggressively, sprinting toward Kristensen before the ball had even fully settled at his feet. The pressure was immediate, suffocating.
"High press from Tottenham—!" Fletcher called.
Kristensen didn't have time.
No space.
No angle.
So he did the only thing he could do—
He went long.
A driven ball forward into the final third.
Ekitike against van de Ven.
They rose together.
But Ekitike won it.
A strong leap, timing it perfectly, guiding the header down into space instead of flicking it blindly on.
The ball dropped toward Knauff.
Bentancur was already there, shadowing him, tight and alert, ready to challenge the moment Knauff took a touch.
But Knauff didn't hold it.
One touch.
Then he released it immediately.
A sharp pass forward.
Into Lukas.
Just past the halfway line.
Lukas received it facing forward.
Facing Tottenham's goal.
And at that exact moment—
Bissouma lunged.
