Ojo struck it clean.
The ball flew off his boot with venom, curling toward the bottom right corner. The Leicester keeper dove—fingertips grazing it.
But not enough.
GOAL. Cardiff 2 – 1 Leicester.
The away end exploded. Blue shirts tumbled over each other in celebration. The bench cleared in a frenzy. Even the normally restrained coaching staff joined the eruption.
Firdaus didn't flinch. He just raised one hand in the air, clenched in triumph, before turning back toward the dugout. Calm outside—like a statue. But inside, his mind raced, calculating outcomes, already shifting focus to the next move.
Ojo ran to the touchline, mobbed by teammates. He pointed at Firdaus through the celebration.
"You called it!" he yelled, voice cracking with emotion.
Firdaus gave a simple nod, lips pressed into a thin line. "We're not done yet," he muttered.
But the match wasn't over.
Leicester immediately kicked off with urgency.
Cardiff dropped slightly deeper but maintained their press triggers. Firdaus barked instructions—managing transitions, adjusting distances, ensuring Wintle and Siopis screened every passing lane.
Leicester's wide men pushed higher. Dewsbury-Hall drifted more centrally. The danger wasn't over—it had evolved.
In the 89th minute, Firdaus turned to the bench. "Get Romeo on. Right back. Fresh legs. Ojo off."
Riza raised the substitution board. Ojo jogged off, visibly spent, clapping the travelling supporters who chanted his name.
"Still one more battle," Firdaus told Romeo as he patted him on the shoulder.
Romeo nodded. "Let's close this."
The switch was made. Cardiff reshaped slightly, a more conservative 4-5-1 now anchoring the lines. The midfield crowded passing channels, forcing Leicester to go wide, while Romeo hugged the flank to prevent overlap.
Leicester surged again.
Four minutes of added time were shown on the board. The home crowd roared louder, trying to will their team forward. Firdaus glanced up briefly, then back to the pitch.
He opened the system overlay.
[Fatigue Index: Midfield 76%, Defence 83%]
[Key Alert: Dewsbury-Hall Positioning Deeper, Central Threat Imminent]
He waved at Ralls. "Drop deeper! Stay on the cover!"
In the 91st minute, Leicester floated a long cross into the box. Kipré rose above everyone and headed it away. But the second ball dropped to Wilfred Ndidi at the edge of the area.
Ndidi fired.
Bodies flew.
Blocked by Wintle.
The rebound fell to Stephy Mavididi. He tried to lift it over the crowd, but Alnwick tipped it onto the bar.
The stadium trembled. The roar turned into a tense hush as every pair of eyes followed the rebound's arc. Fans were on their feet, hands on heads, breath caught in their chests. Firdaus remained unmoved.
Then the moment.
Dewsbury-Hall picked up a loose ball and flicked it first time into the penalty area.
Daka got there. He turned sharply, back to goal. Kipré pressed.
Daka went down.
A pause.
Leicester's bench exploded off their seats.
Arms in the air.
Penalty appeal.
The referee paused mid-blow.
Hands to his earpiece.
VAR check.
Time slowed.
Firdaus stood on the sideline, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Players from both teams surrounded the official. The Cardiff fans chanted furiously, trying to sway the atmosphere.
Riza stood beside Firdaus. "He dived. Surely he dived."
Firdaus said nothing. Eyes locked on the referee. He took a step closer to the touchline, just enough to get a better view without leaving the zone.
The referee walked slowly to the monitor.
The entire stadium booed. Some fans waved their scarves furiously. Phones lit up as people recorded the moment.
Firdaus never moved.
The official watched the replay. One angle caught Kipré's foot brushing Daka's shin. Another showed barely any contact. The slow motion replay, brutal and unforgiving, exaggerated every twitch and stumble. Around the monitor, the crowd held their collective breath.
Firdaus felt his chest tighten slightly but gave away nothing. He trusted Kipré. He trusted the moment.
Hands on hips. Then crossed arms.
He turned and walked back to the pitch.
Players swarmed him again. Voices raised.
The Cardiff captain, Ralls, tried to hold his teammates back.
The referee raised one hand.
The whistle touched his lips.
Gasps rippled through the stadium. Players froze, arms mid-air. He pointed—
To be continued...
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