As the clock ticked toward forty-five, Serbia earned a free kick just outside the box.
Ilić stood over it.
He struck clean—a thunderbolt that dipped viciously—but Simón was again equal, pushing it over the bar with two firm fists.
"That man is a wall tonight," the color commentator muttered.
On the sidelines, Luis de la Fuente exhaled deeply. He didn't need to turn around to know what was happening behind him.
The final seconds of the half saw Spain nearly break the deadlock when Morata backheeled a pass into Pedri's path.
The Barcelona midfielder took it first time, his low shot grazing the outside netting.
Some fans screamed, thinking it was in.
The whistle came soon after.
Players dropped to their knees. Shirts clung to sweat-slicked skin.
Even the bench stood to applaud—not the scoreline, but the spectacle.
"This is what international football should feel like," the commentator said over slow-motion replays of saves, flicks, and close calls.
