The breakthrough came quickly.
Rice received from Stones and moved the ball toward Henderson before Can could close him.
Henderson played first time into Mount.
Mount turned and found Ling between the lines.
Can followed.
Ling allowed him to come.
The German midfielder stepped tight, trying to prevent him from turning, but Ling dragged the ball toward his right foot before suddenly slipping it through Can's legs and moving around the opposite side.
Wembley reacted before he had even completed the move.
"OH, LOVELY FROM LING!"
Can turned desperately.
Too late.
Ling was already facing forward.
Germany's defensive line immediately narrowed toward him, Rüdiger stepping out while Hummels held the center. Ling carried the ball another few yards before releasing it toward Sancho on the right.
The pass was perfectly weighted.
Sancho collected without breaking stride.
Gosens had been caught several yards too high and immediately began sprinting backward, but the substitute had fresh legs and a clear advantage.
Sancho accelerated.
One touch carried him into the penalty area.
Gosens tried to recover inside.
Neuer shifted toward the near post, preparing for the shot.
Sancho lifted his right foot.
Neuer set himself.
No shot came.
Instead, Sancho cut the ball sharply across the six-yard box.
Neuer immediately tried to shift his weight back toward the center.
He was too late.
Ling had continued his run.
Rüdiger was hanging onto his shoulder, trying desperately to prevent him reaching the delivery, but Ling used his body to drive through the contact and threw himself toward the ball.
BANG!
His boot met it cleanly.
The finish flashed past Neuer from close range and buried itself in the net.
2–1.
Wembley exploded.
"LING AGAIN!" Drury screamed. "ENGLAND HAVE TURNED IT AROUND! FROM BEHIND TO IN FRONT AT WEMBLEY, AND JEREMY LING HAS TWO!"
Ling slid across the grass before being swallowed by England shirts.
Drury's voice barely dipped beneath the roar.
"ELEVEN MINUTES! ELEVEN MINUTES BETWEEN THE GOALS! GERMANY HAD HIM CAGED FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR, AND NOW THE DOOR IS OPEN AND HE IS TEARING THROUGH THEM!"
Beglin was already talking over the replay, every bit as animated.
"This is brilliant from England! Look where it begins—one-touch football through Germany's pressure, Ling embarrasses Can with the nutmeg, and then he doesn't force the final action himself. He releases Sancho at exactly the right moment and keeps running!"
The replay switched to the angle behind the goal.
"And look at Rüdiger! He's got hold of him, he's leaning into him, he's doing everything he can legally do—but Ling still gets across him. That is strength, desire and timing. Neuer has absolutely no chance from there!"
Drury returned as Ling raised a fist toward the stands.
"THE BALLON D'OR WINNER HAS TAKEN HOLD OF WEMBLEY! ENGLAND WERE TRAILING. ENGLAND WERE UNDER PRESSURE. NOW ENGLAND LEAD GERMANY!"
The stadium answered with another deafening roar.
Ling rarely needed encouragement from a crowd to keep pushing, but even he could feel the force of Wembley in that moment.
Sancho reached him with a huge grin, understandably pleased with the assist.
Ling gave him a firm slap on the shoulder and shouted his approval before they turned back toward midfield.
The celebration was intense.
It was also brief.
There was still too much time remaining to believe Germany were finished.
...
Falling behind changed Germany completely.
Their pressing became even more aggressive, but no longer as coordinated.
Can charged forward whenever England tried to build.
Kimmich pushed higher.
Gosens did the same on the opposite side.
Even Hummels began stepping several yards beyond the defensive line to keep England compressed inside their own half.
The greater the urgency became, the less controlled Germany looked.
Press.
Fail to win the ball.
Recover.
Press again.
Leave another opening.
England had experienced the unpleasant side of that cycle against Scotland.
Now Germany were trapped inside it.
Southgate immediately recognized the change and instructed his players to stop forcing direct attacks every time possession turned over. England had regained the lead; there was no need to turn the final twenty minutes into a track meet simply because Germany wanted one.
Ling adjusted his role accordingly.
Instead of attacking the defensive line every time he received, he increasingly dropped into midfield, protected possession and helped England circulate away from pressure. When Germany committed several players toward him, he released the ball early and moved elsewhere.
The shift frustrated Germany even further.
For most of the evening, they had tried to prevent Ling from running at their defense.
Now that they desperately needed possession back, he seemed perfectly content not to run at all.
He became the outlet instead.
A ball into his feet bought England five seconds.
A turn away from pressure bought another ten.
A simple pass toward Henderson forced Germany to begin their press from the beginning.
Minute by minute, Wembley watched the clock disappear.
...
Löw used the remainder of his substitutions in an attempt to revive the match.
Leroy Sané entered to provide direct running.
Timo Werner came on to threaten the space behind England's defense.
Germany became more dangerous simply because fresh attackers added speed, but the substitutions also disturbed what remained of their original structure.
England nearly exploited the confusion immediately.
Mount found Sancho behind Gosens, and only a desperate recovery from Hummels prevented Kane reaching the resulting cross.
A few minutes later, Ling slipped Shaw into the left channel, forcing Neuer to race outside his penalty area and clear before the full-back could arrive.
Germany survived both attacks.
The clock continued moving.
Seventy-eight minutes.
Eighty.
Eighty-one.
The German players were chasing the match now rather than controlling it.
Then England found the opening that ended it.
...
The move began innocently.
Germany lost possession after another attempted attack through the center, and Henderson recovered the loose ball before releasing Mount.
The midfielder lifted his head.
Ling was moving between Can and Hummels.
Mount threaded a diagonal pass into him.
Ling received just outside the penalty area with his back partially toward goal.
Can approached from behind.
Hummels waited several yards ahead.
Rüdiger was recovering from the side.
Three players were close enough that the sensible option appeared to be laying the ball back.
Ling had another idea.
His right foot dragged the ball sharply across his body.
Then back again.
A tight V-shaped movement pulled Can toward the wrong side and allowed Ling to rotate away from him.
"Oh, look at that!" Beglin exclaimed.
Ling emerged facing goal.
Hummels stepped forward.
Rüdiger closed from the right.
The space for a shot looked almost nonexistent.
Ling shifted the ball onto his left foot.
Drury's voice suddenly climbed.
"He's shaping to hit it..."
Hummels lunged.
Ling planted his right foot.
"LING—!"
BANG!
The strike sounded like something had cracked inside Wembley.
Ling's left foot drove completely through the ball, sending it rising toward the upper corner with vicious speed.
Neuer reacted instantly.
He launched himself across goal and managed to reach the shot with his glove.
For a split second, it looked enough.
Then the force of the strike simply overwhelmed the contact.
Neuer's wrist was knocked backward.
The ball changed direction only slightly.
It slammed into the net.
3–1.
Wembley ceased to resemble a football stadium.
"OH MY WORD!"
Drury's voice disappeared beneath the first eruption before returning even louder.
"JEREMY LING! JEREMY LING! JEREMY LING!"
"A HAT-TRICK AGAINST GERMANY! IN HIS FIRST MAJOR INTERNATIONAL KNOCKOUT MATCH!"
Ling stood for half a second watching the net shake before turning toward the stands.
Drury was almost breathless now.
"HE HAS THUNDERED IT THROUGH MANUEL NEUER! ONE OF THE GREAT GOALKEEPERS OF HIS GENERATION GOT A HAND TO IT—AND STILL COULD NOT KEEP IT OUT!"
The replay appeared.
Beglin laughed in disbelief.
"That is outrageous, Peter. Forget the finish for one second and watch how he creates it. Can is right behind him, Hummels is in front, Rüdiger is closing, and there is nowhere obvious to go. That V-turn gives him perhaps half a yard. Half a yard! And apparently that is all Jeremy Ling needs!"
The camera switched to Neuer's perspective.
The goalkeeper had read the shot correctly.
His positioning was good.
His reactions were fast.
None of it mattered.
"Neuer actually gets there!" Beglin continued. "That's the frightening part. He gets a proper hand on it and the ball still goes through him. The technique and power are ridiculous."
Drury needed no further invitation.
"THREE YEARS OF DOMINATING CLUB FOOTBALL! THREE CHAMPIONS LEAGUES! A BALLON D'OR! AND NOW, UNDER THE LIGHTS OF WEMBLEY, JEREMY LING HAS PRODUCED HIS FIRST HAT-TRICK FOR ENGLAND WHEN THEIR EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP WAS ON THE LINE!"
"GERMANY LED."
"GERMANY PRESSED."
"GERMANY BELIEVED."
"AND THEN LING TOOK THE MATCH AWAY FROM THEM."
England's substitutes poured toward the touchline as Ling reached the corner.
Kane was first to catch him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders before Sancho, Mount and the rest arrived.
The noise was overwhelming.
Three goals.
All in the second half.
From 0–1 to 3–1.
Ling eventually emerged from the celebration and looked toward the giant screen.
ENGLAND 3–1 GERMANY
For the first time since the equalizer, he allowed himself a longer smile.
Not because the match was officially over.
It was not.
But Germany now needed two goals simply to force extra time, and their legs had been fading for more than twenty minutes.
England could see the quarterfinals.
So could Wembley.
Drury's voice settled just enough to be heard clearly over the singing.
"Germany came here carrying generations of history with them. England came carrying generations of scars."
"But history cannot defend Jeremy Ling."
"And tonight, neither could Germany."