West Brom equalised in the fifty-fifth. Rondón from a long throw, the ball bouncing off Konaté's knee, a defender's nightmare. 1-1. The Hawthorns came alive. The West Brom fans, who had been subdued, found their voice. The nervousness that had defined the first half turned to desperate belief. Pardew was on his feet, pumping his fist, his touchline energy feeding into his players.
For five minutes, West Brom were the better team. Rondón held the ball up with the physicality of a man who sensed the tide was turning. Chadli drove forward from midfield. A cross from the right was headed over by Phillips, six yards out, and the Hawthorns groaned at the miss. Another minute and they might have scored again.
Then Rodríguez did what Rodríguez does.
