The stadium is shaking. 2-1.
Robin stands in the center circle, hands on his knees, catching his breath. He looks at Doyle. Doyle winks. They did it. They dragged this team back from the dead.
Martin is screaming instructions from the sideline, but for once, he looks relieved.
Kick-off.
West Hall Town doesn't look defeated. They look annoyed.
Minute 74.
Kurtis, the right-back, gets beat by Kane. Again. In a panic, Kurtis grabs Kane's jersey. A clear foul. A cheap foul.
Free kick. Deep in North Wall's territory.
"A silly foul to give away," the commentator says. "West Hall are bringing the big guns forward. Here comes Prince."
Robin watches from the halfway line. He sees the giant defender jogging up from the back. Prince enters the box like he owns it. He shoves Louis Mendez. He elbows Tyron. He clears a space.
The cross comes in. It hangs in the air.
Dean Brooker shouts, "Mine!" But he stays on his line. He hesitates.
Prince doesn't hesitate.
He launches himself. He goes through Louis Mendez like the captain is made of cardboard. A violent, powerful header.
Thud.
The ball smashes into the net.
2-2.
"GOAL! WEST HALL! An immediate response! Prince rises highest, he absolutely bullied the North Wall captain there! It's all square!"
Robin stares. He feels a vein pop in his temple.
He looks at Louis, who is on the ground, holding his head. He looks at Dean, who is kicking the post.
Three minutes, Robin thinks. We held the lead for three minutes.
He didn't touch the ball. He couldn't do anything. He just watched his defense crumble like a wet cookie.
Minute 78.
Panic has set in. You can smell it.
North Wall tries to play out from the back. Martin's new "attacking philosophy." But the defenders are rattled.
Tyron gets the ball. He's pressed. He should clear it. Just kick it into the stands.
Instead, he tries a short pass to Mateo.
It's weak. It's underhit.
The West Hall midfielder intercepts it easily. He's through. The defense is wide open.
"Oh, it's a disaster at the back! Tyron gives it away cheaply! West Hall are in!"
The midfielder drives forward. He squares it to their striker. Louis tries a desperate slide tackle, but he misses.
The striker has an open goal. He taps it in.
3-2.
"UNBELIEVABLE! West Hall turn it around in four minutes! From 2-1 down to 3-2 up! North Wall have imploded! It is an absolute catastrophe defensively!"
The stadium is silent. Dead silent. The only sound is the West Hall players screaming, celebrating in the corner.
Robin stands at the halfway line. He hasn't moved.
He looks at Tyron, who is staring at his feet. He looks at Martin, who has his face buried in his hands.
Robin feels a cold, dark laugh bubbling up in his chest.
He ran his lungs out. He scored. He fought Prince. He redeemed himself.
And for what?
So Tyron could pass the ball to the other team? So Louis could get dunked on by a thug?
Minute 81.
The scoreboard glows red in the twilight.
North Wall FC 2 - 3 West Hall Town
Robin spits on the grass.
He is alone. Again.