Minute 79.
The ball trickles out of play. An Oakminster throw-in.
"And the play stops," the commentator groans. "Oakminster will be very, very happy to see this clock tick down. Northwall have shown nothing in this second half, and their young loanee, Robin Silver, has been completely invisible since coming on, trapped by a very disciplined two-man mark."
As the home player ambles to get the ball, Robin sprints over to Doyle, who's waiting near the halfway line. He mutters something, his hand over his mouth. Doyle looks at him, raises an eyebrow, and gives a single, sharp nod.
The throw comes in. Robin fights for the ball, but he's physically outmatched. He loses it.
"Oakminster win possession back. And it's Kane, their star man, who's on the ball. He's got space to run..."
Kane is off. Robin doesn't stop. He turns and chases.
"But Silver is after him! He's not giving up on this! It's a footrace down the sideline! Kane is known for his blistering pace... but Silver is staying with him... this is a real sprint!"
Robin is fast. Kane is faster. The gap is widening. Just as Kane is about to cross, Robin launches himself. A desperate, all-or-nothing slide tackle from behind.
He just gets the ball. It rockets off his boot and out for another throw.
Kane tumbles, rolling, and immediately looks to the referee, screaming for a foul. No whistle.
Kane laughs. He gets to his feet first, dusting himself off. He turns to Robin, who is still on the ground, catching his breath.
Kane extends an arm. An offer to help him up.
Surprised, Robin takes it.
And Kane yanks his hand back, leaving Robin to scramble up on his own.
"OHHH! A bit of pure shithousery from Kane! The home crowd is loving that! He offered a hand and pulled it away, and Robin Silver bought it hook, line, and sinker! That's just rubbing salt in the wound."
The crowd roars with laughter. They're cheering for Kane, cheering for his arrogance.
Robin gets to his feet. Slowly. He eyes the crowd. Every single laughing, jeering face. He remembers the area. Hate. It boils up, hot and sharp, in his system.
And then... he smiles. He actually laughs.
This. This is what he wanted. Not mediocrity. Not boring football. This. The hate from everyone in the world. Being the most hated person in the stadium, standing alone against a crowd that wants him dead. The feeling. It's electric. He wants to experience it.
Minute 89.
"We are into the final minute of normal time. Oakminster 2, Northwall 1. It looks like it's going to be another loss for Martin Langford's side..."
Doyle gets the ball in the midfield. He looks up. No one is open. Everyone is marked.
But then he sees it. Robin. He's not running away from the ball. He's sprinting towards it, from the right wing into the center.
"This is an intelligent run! Silver is coming short, and he's dragging the left-back, Taylor, right with him! Taylor is following him all the way... he's completely out of position!"
Doyle understands. As Robin asks for the pass, Doyle gives it to him.
Taylor is tight on his back. Robin doesn't take a touch. Without even looking, he pivots and hits the ball first-time. A raking, 50-yard diagonal blast across the entire pitch, toward Tobi on the left wing.
Martin, on the sideline, is in shock. What kind of pass was that?
Taylor, the left-back, just stops, stunned. He's 20 yards out of position, in the middle of the field. And in that one second, Robin is gone. He's already sprinting, turning on the jets and bursting into the massive, empty space he just created.
"...what a ball! Silver didn't even look! A phenomenal switch of play! Before the ball even reached Tobi, Robin Silver was free!"
Tobi takes the ball down with an amazing first touch. He sprints. He draws the defense. He pauses, then passes it inside to Doyle, who has continued his run, bursting into the final third.
"Tobi holds it up... he passes to Doyle! Doyle is in the center, just outside the box... he doesn't even look... A BLIND PASS! Back to the right wing! Silver! He's timed his run perfectly! He's in!"
Taylor is sprinting back, a desperate recovery run, but he's too far away. It's just Robin and the center-back, Carlos.
Robin had observed Carlos. Experienced. Yes. But also slow.
Carlos squares him up. Robin doesn't try to dribble. He doesn't try a trick. He just kicks the ball. A huge kick, eight, ten feet ahead of them both, into the box.
And he runs.
"It's a pure footrace! Robin Silver has just said, 'I am faster than you!' Carlos has the angle, but Silver has the pace! He's blown past him! The crowd is on its feet! He's in the box!"
Taylor is closing in. Carlos is trying to turn, his legs like cement. Robin accelerates again. He's in. He's one-on-one with the keeper. He sees Hugo at the far post. He sees the defenders scrambling.
"Silver! One-on-one! He's going to shoot..."
No. He drills it. A low, hard shot. But not at the goal. He's aiming for the space at the far post. It's a shot-pass, so fast the keeper can't react.
Tobi Ajayi. He never stopped his run.
The ball flashes across the face of the goal. The keeper dives. The defenders slide.
But Tobi is there. He doesn't take a touch. He just blasts it into the open net.
"GOAL!!! GOAL! 2-2! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? North Wall have stolen a point at the death! An unbelievable, end-to-end goal, orchestrated by Robin Silver and finished by Tobi Ajayi! Oakminster are stunned!"