Chapter 363: Full Time
Instead, perhaps trying to place it too carefully, perhaps feeling the pressure of the moment, he side-footed the effort.
The shot lacked conviction, it lacked power, it lacked everything except direction.
It rolled almost apologetically toward Sánchez.
The Chelsea goalkeeper dropped to one knee and gathered it comfortably.
For a split second, the entire stadium seemed confused.
Then came the groan.
Thousands of Manchester City supporters put their hands on their heads.
Lukas stood frozen inside the box.
Haaland cursed under his breath.
Pep Guardiola threw both arms into the air before immediately turning away.
"That had to be the winner," the co-commentator said.
"That absolutely had to be the winner."
And football, as it so often does, punished them immediately.
Sánchez was already moving.
The Chelsea goalkeeper sprang to his feet and launched the ball forward.
Enzo Fernández won the second ball near the halfway line.
One touch.
Head up.
And suddenly there was space.
Too much space.
City had committed bodies forward expecting to score.
Now they were exposed.
Enzo drove forward for several strides before spotting the run.
João Pedro.
The Brazilian was bursting through the middle.
The pass arrived perfectly weighted between Stones and Dias.
Neither defender could get there.
Trafford hesitated.
For a fraction of a second he considered charging out.
It was enough.
João Pedro was through.
The entire Chelsea end rose before he even reached the box.
Trafford advanced.
João Pedro stayed calm.
One touch to set himself.
One touch to finish.
The shot slid low across the goalkeeper and into the far corner.
Silence.
For a heartbeat, complete silence from the Manchester City supporters.
Then the Chelsea end exploded.
Blue shirts sprinted toward the corner flag.
João Pedro ripped away from his teammates, screaming toward the sky before disappearing beneath a pile of celebrating bodies.
"CHELSEA HAVE DONE IT!"
The commentator’s voice almost cracked.
"CHELSEA HAVE STOLEN IT AT THE DEATH!"
Enzo Fernández sprinted the length of the pitch to join the celebrations while Maresca punched the air repeatedly on the touchline.
Across the field, Lukas stood motionless.
Only seconds earlier he had created what should have been the winning goal.
Now Chelsea were leading.
Now Chelsea were moments away from the Club World Cup Final.
Football could be beautiful.
Football could also be cruel.
And tonight, it had chosen cruelty.
As play finally restarted, the scoreboard glowed above MetLife Stadium.
Manchester City 2.
Chelsea 3.
And there was almost no time left.
The celebrations seemed to last forever.
Chelsea’s players took their time returning to their own half. João Pedro disappeared beneath a pile of teammates near the corner flag while Sánchez jogged almost the entire length of the pitch to join them. Every second that passed felt like an eternity to the Manchester City players.
Pep Guardiola was already on the edge of his technical area.
"Look at the time!"
He pointed repeatedly toward his watch while speaking to the fourth official. A few meters away, Haaland was making the same gesture toward the referee.
"Look at the clock! Look at the clock!"
The referee waved the players back toward the center circle, but the damage had already been done. Nearly 3 minutes of the original 4 added minutes had disappeared before the game was finally ready to restart.
The moment the whistle blew, Chelsea abandoned all pretenses of attacking.
Every blue shirt dropped behind the ball.
A complete low block.
5 defenders.
5 midfielders.
Nobody left up front.
Manchester City pushed everyone forward.
Even Trafford had advanced well beyond the edge of his penalty area.
Bernardo Silva rolled the kickoff backward and the ball was immediately worked all the way back to the goalkeeper. Trafford took 1 touch before launching a high ball toward the left side where Nico O’Reilly was already sprinting forward.
The young midfielder kept it alive near the touchline and found Doku.
Immediately 3 Chelsea players collapsed around him.
Doku recycled possession to O’Reilly.
O’Reilly into Nico González.
Nico González to Bernardo Silva.
Chelsea barely moved.
They simply shifted as a unit, maintaining their shape and protecting the box.
Bernardo received the ball around 30 yards from goal before João Pedro suddenly sprinted forward to pressure him. Rather than forcing the issue, Bernardo slipped a simple pass out to Lukas on the right flank.
The reaction was immediate.
Cucurella stepped toward him.
Pedro Neto shaded across.
Caicedo followed.
Every Chelsea player knew exactly where the danger was.
Lukas looked up and saw Matheus Nunes beginning an overlapping run outside him. His body shape suggested he was about to play the obvious pass down the line.
Cucurella bit.
Caicedo shifted.
Instead, Lukas threaded the ball inside toward Bernardo Silva.
The Portuguese midfielder received it and instantly returned it first time.
By then Lukas was already accelerating.
He burst between Caicedo and Cucurella and received the return pass near the edge of the area.
The Chelsea penalty box was packed.
Bodies everywhere.
Blue shirts in every direction.
Enzo Fernández had recovered.
João Pedro had tracked back.
Tosin and Chalobah were holding the central lane in front of Haaland.
Lukas carried the ball across the edge of the box, making tiny adjustments with every touch as defenders hesitated between diving in and holding their shape.
He shaped as though he would shoot.
Tosin reacted.
No shot came.
He shifted the ball again.
Chalobah stepped forward.
Again, no shot.
The ball bounced awkwardly as Lukas nudged it across his body. It skipped over Chalobah’s outstretched boot before dropping back down.
Cucurella lunged.
Lukas dragged it away.
The crowd inside MetLife Stadium was on its feet now.
Every single person seemed to be holding their breath.
Then Lukas saw it.
A run.
Far side of the box.
Nico O’Reilly.
With the outside of his left foot, Lukas delicately flicked the ball across the crowded area toward the arriving midfielder.
At that exact moment, Caicedo threw himself across to block the pass.
He missed the ball.
But his trailing leg hooked Lukas.
The Manchester City winger crashed to the turf.
The referee’s whistle remained silent.
The pass continued through.
Nico O’Reilly arrived.
The ball dropped perfectly for him.
One clean contact would surely send Manchester City into extra time.
He opened his body.
Side-footed the effort.
And dragged it wide.
The ball crashed into the side netting.
For half a second nobody reacted.
Then Haaland threw both arms into the air.
Bernardo Silva spun toward the referee screaming for a penalty.
Several City players immediately surrounded the official.
Lukas remained on the ground.
The replay flashed onto the giant screens.
Caicedo’s leg clearly caught him.
The commentators were already debating it.
"That’s a foul."
"It certainly looks like a foul."
"But Lukas gets the pass away before the contact."
"Does that matter if the contact comes after? That’s the question."
Pep Guardiola had completely lost his composure.
He stormed toward the fourth official, gesturing furiously toward the penalty area.
The fourth official repeatedly motioned for him to calm down and return to his technical area.
Then came the whistle.
FWEE FWEEE FWEEEEEE
The sound was met by a mixture of celebration and disbelief in the crowd.
"Oh my goodness, the referee has ended the match. Controversial scenes here as the referee ends the game in the middle of a deliberation," the commentators were also surprised.
Chelsea’s players exploded off the bench.
Manchester City’s players froze.
Lukas remained exactly where he was.
He slowly sat up, staring toward the referee as Chelsea’s celebrations erupted around him. Then he lay back down on the grass and looked up at the evening sky above MetLife Stadium.
Around him, blue shirts raced toward the corner flag.
The scoreboard glowed above the stadium.
Manchester City 2.
Chelsea 3.
The Club World Cup was over.
And for the first time since arriving in Manchester, Lukas had tasted defeat.
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