48th Minute – Norwich finally found a crack.
Maddison had been quiet all game, shadowed every step by Ibáñez and Vélez, but this time, just for a second, he found space. He barely needed to look—one touch, one perfect, slicing pass that split the Bradford backline in half.
Barnes turned, but he was too late.
Sargent was already gone, sprinting onto the ball like a predator scenting blood. One-on-one with Okafor.
Jake barely had time to process it.
Sargent took a touch, steadied himself, then pulled the trigger. A low, driven strike, arrowing toward the bottom corner.
Okafor exploded forward, closing the distance.
A split-second decision—go down, stay up, spread wide?
The Nigerian goalkeeper threw out a leg—pure instinct.
The ball deflected off his shin, spinning away from goal.
Valley Parade gasped. A half-second of silence.
Then Barnes was there, sliding in, hacking the loose ball clear before Rowe could react.
Jake exhaled. That was too close.
