120+2'
Izan—shoulders hunched, breath short—scanned the field—one last chance.
A pass? A shot?
One decision.
Spain surged forward, red blurs against the fading English resistance.
The weight of history pressed down on them, yet Izan carried it like a warrior in his prime.
Rodri, ever the general, looked up. A diagonal ball—sharp, purposeful—sent Dani Olmo into motion on the left flank.
Peter Drury: "Spain's last breath—one last whisper into the wind. Olmo, eyes up, heart pounding… Is there still time? Is there space?"
Olmo—cornered—felt Declan Rice pressing, his presence like a wall of sheer will.
The England midfielder had been a titan all game, but even Titans had their limits.
Olmo hesitated, his muscles coiled with doubt, just enough to create the illusion that the moment had passed.
But it hadn't.
A ghost arrived.
Izan.
No one saw him. Not Stones, not Walker, not Pickford, not the thousands of English fans holding their breath, bracing for penalties.
