Firdaus didn't break focus.
Even with Manchester United's head scout, Richard Doyle, likely fixed on him from the stands, Firdaus tuned everything else out. The noise, the tension, the whispers around the stadium—it all faded into the background. He wasn't here to impress a scout. He was here to win.
He turned back toward the bench. "We don't play for respect. We play for control."
Riza nodded. The message was simple, but the meaning was clear. Cardiff would not back down.
On the pitch, Cardiff had settled.
Siopis was everywhere. Closing down channels, making sharp tackles, shielding the backline. His constant barking at teammates echoed across the pitch. He brought structure to chaos. And his presence gave Ralls and Colwill just enough room to breathe and think.
Slowly, Cardiff began stitching passes together. Players lifted their heads, passes were delivered chest-high with more confidence, and movement off the ball increased noticeably. One-twos. Third-man runs. Firdaus could feel it building—the tempo, the confidence. The supporters could feel it too. Every successful pass earned a louder cheer than the one before.
In the 35th minute, it happened.
Leicester tried to switch play from right to left. Siopis anticipated it and darted across, intercepting a lazy pass from James Justin.
With one touch, he released the ball to Colwill. Colwill flicked it behind him instinctively to Ralls, who returned it immediately into space.
Colwill didn't hesitate.
He shifted it to his left, took a single glance up, and whipped a curling strike—low, precise, and arcing just beyond the goalkeeper's reach, tucking perfectly into the far corner.
Goal. Cardiff 1 – 1 Leicester.
The away end exploded with raw, unfiltered emotion. A flare lit in the corner. One fan even collapsed to his knees in joy, arms raised to the sky. Fans in blue surged toward the barrier, fists pumping. Colwill sprinted to the corner flag, arms outstretched in disbelief and pride.
On the touchline, Firdaus simply exhaled through his nose. One fist clenched by his side.
That was the response he wanted. Not just a goal. A statement.
But Leicester wasn't rattled. They pushed forward immediately from kickoff, trying to overwhelm Cardiff again.
Firdaus stepped back toward the dugout and opened the system overlay on the tablet.
[Momentum Equalized. Opposition Build-Up Threat: High]
[Tactical Alert: Recommend Substitution – Colwill OFF, Ojo ON | Trigger Counter Left Flank]
Firdaus frowned slightly. Colwill had just scored. But Ojo's pace could be decisive, especially with Leicester's fullbacks pushing higher.
He glanced at Riza. "Call Ojo. We're going bolder."
"Now?" Riza raised an eyebrow.
"Now," Firdaus said again, firm. "We're not playing to draw."
As Ojo warmed up, the tempo of the match accelerated. End-to-end action ensued. Both teams traded quick attacks. The ball was barely in midfield before it returned to one penalty box or the other.
Jamie Vardy missed a sitter at the far post—it grazed the outside of the post, and for a second, even the home fans had begun to cheer prematurely. Grant fired just inches wide from 25 yards. Ralls threw himself into a full-body slide to block a shot from Maddison.
The noise inside the stadium became a wall of sound. Firdaus walked to the edge of the technical area, shouting instructions to Wintle and Ng, gesturing for compact shape.
Ojo came on in the 64th minute. Colwill jogged off, clapping the fans with a small smile. As he neared the sideline, he looked at Firdaus.
"You made your mark," Firdaus said quietly. "Let Ojo finish it."
Colwill nodded. "Just win."
Firdaus placed a hand on his shoulder for a second. "You earned this."
Then he turned to Ojo. "Exploit their full-back. Run at him. No hesitation."
Ojo grinned. "Time to run."
In the 71st minute, Leicester earned a free kick in a dangerous area after a tangle between Kipré and Vardy. Firdaus barked instructions, demanding a three-man wall and deep zonal marking.
Alnwick parried the curling effort wide. The resulting corner was dangerous, but Kipré rose above everyone and powered a clearance to midfield.
Cardiff countered immediately.
Siopis was first to the second ball. He nodded it to Ralls, who took a single touch and launched it leftward to Ojo.
Ojo tore forward, skipping past one challenge and cutting inside. The crowd gasped as he was chopped down just outside the box.
Free kick.
Just outside the penalty arc.
Firdaus stood motionless, his eyes locked on the ball. Around him, the Cardiff bench held their breath. Even the fans seemed to stop chanting for a moment, a collective anticipation seizing the air.
Grant, Ralls, and Ojo stood over the ball. Each of them whispering options. The wall formed. The keeper shouted orders. Cameras zoomed in.
Behind Firdaus, Riza leaned in slightly. "They're vulnerable here."
Firdaus nodded. "Let's make it count."
The stadium buzzed like a live wire.
The referee checked his watch. A deep silence swept over the stadium as thousands held their breath. Then he blew his whistle.
One step.
To be continued...
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