The Coastal Arena was a cauldron of noise, but for Marcus Price, the world had gone silent for a split second. He had done everything right. He had timed his run to perfection, ghosting past the Northcastle defenders like a phantom in the night. He had seen the goal gaping, the target large and inviting. He had struck the ball with the laces of his boot, a clean, powerful connection that sent the ball rising toward the top right corner.
He was already preparing his celebration. He could feel the roar of the home crowd building in their throats.
Then came Freddie Booth.
The young goalkeeper didn’t just dive; he launched himself, his body stretching to its absolute limit. It was a desperate, acrobatic leap born of pure instinct. His fingertips, encased in the latex of his gloves, brushed the underside of the ball. It was the slightest of touches, barely a flicker, but in the physics of football, it was everything. The ball’s trajectory altered by a fraction of a degree, enough to send it clattering against the top of the crossbar and over into the stands.
[> "SAVED!" "What a save from Booth! That had ’goal’ written all over it!" "Brilliant from Booth," "That’s top-class goalkeeping. To have the presence of mind and the reach to get to that... Maddox must be thanking his lucky stars he stuck with the lad." "Booth again!" "He’s keeping Rising Stars alive! Two world-class saves in less than sixty seconds!" "Still 2-1," "But Hastings are dominant in the early stages of the second half. It’s a siege, Peter. A total siege." "Rising Stars under real pressure, Eric Maddox never saw this coming," "They need to weather this storm, or this game will be over before the fifty-minute mark." "Mitchell finding Price," "Good vision from the keeper. He’s started a counter-attack from his own six-yard box." "Stones with the clearance," "The Rising Stars captain is having a busy evening. He’s the glue holding that backline together right now." "Fournier with the ball," "Rising Stars trying to break out. They need to find some breathing room." "Navarro deeper," "He’s trying to get involved, trying to link the play because the service to the front has been non-existent." "Whittaker vs Foster," "Round two of this battle. This has been one of the most intriguing matchups of the night." <]
Dylan Foster, the Hastings right-back, had learned his lesson from the first half. He didn’t dive in this time. He kept his knees bent, his eyes on the ball, and retreated slowly, giving himself space to react to Whittaker’s pace.