The Stuttgart Arena was frozen in time. Even the German fans, still basking in their lead, couldn't look away.
Izan took his stance, body coiled like a spring, eyes locked on the ball. The stadium lights bathed the pitch in a golden glow, illuminating the moment.
Behind the goal, Spanish supporters clutched scarves to their faces, barely able to watch.
Some murmured silent prayers. Others stood still, breathless, waiting.
In the German wall, Rüdiger and Kimmich exchanged tense glances. Neuer bounced on his toes, arms outstretched, calculating.
Martin Tyler:
"Two minutes left. This… this might be Spain's last chance."
"Every single pair of eyes in this stadium—on him. Every Spanish heart—praying for a miracle, me included" Cesc Fabregas said fidgeting behind the pundit counter.
"Well is Spain going to bow out of the euros or is there going to be something we haven't seen before"
The stadium held its breath, a vast sea of red and white, of tension and prayer.
