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[2nd Half: Spain 3 vs 1 Germany]
[71’]
Following the goal, Luis Enrique made changes, withdrawing Ferran Torres to a standing ovation. The Valencia winger had tornted Germany all night—two goals, countless chances created. Oyarzabal ca on, fresh and eager to make his mark.
Marc Cucurella also ca on, replacing Sergi Roberto in the left back position as the latter struggled to keep Rakim at bay. He was only given one job: to restrict the winger’s forward movent, and he did just that, despite a 7-inch height difference. At only 5’9, the young wunderkind towered over him at 6’2, but the Spanish defender used his experience to make his life difficult.
Each ti Goretzka or Kroos so much as shaped their bodies toward the right flank, Cucurella was already stepping up, invading Rakim’s personal space, bumping him, nudging him, whispering sothing in Catalan under his breath. Just anything to disrupt the rhythm, doing just enough to disrupt his rhythm. It was more for the winger’s teammates around them than the winger who seed to ignore him.
The mont the ball left the pitch, Cucurella jogged a few steps backwards, shaking out his shoulders, eyes never leaving Rakim. He wasn’t faster, he wasn’t stronger, and he certainly didn’t fancy going one-on-one in open space. But what he did have — one of the most annoying gifts a defender could possess — timing and a whole lot of nerve.
"Cucurella is doing a brilliant job here," the comntator noted. "He’s not giving Rakim Rex a single clean touch."
[75]
While Rakim was trying to figure out how to deal with his new giard dog, Rodri got on the ball. He played sideways passes with Ramos and Oyarzabal, orchestrating triangles as he moved up the field. Koke joined in playing a couple of passes, draining valuable minutes from the clock with every rotation.
Germany continued pressing them, but they remained composed as the ball whizzed along the ground, finding boots. The dizzying passes continued up the right flank until finding Oyarzabal, who, after a couple of return passes, tried sothing ambitious. Receiving the ball on the right inside past Philipp Max’s challenge, his close control immaculate.
He shaped to shoot, drawing Süle across, then slipped a pass through for Morata, who made the run inwards. The striker drew his leg back, trying to drag the ball with him, but Kochcam sliding in, boot-tearing through the ball and man alike. "What a tackle, but it may not be legal!" the comntator exclaid as players sward the referee, who looked uncertain.
After a mont of thought, he blew his whistle, indicating he would check with VAR. The referee stood with a hand pressed to his earpiece, eyes fixed on the motorised booth set up at the side of the field. The replay also rolled on the Jumbotron showing: Koch’s sliding tackle, Morata tumbling, and the ball cannoning away.
One angle suggested he clipped the ball, another that he’d gone straight through the man. The comntator’s voice crackled with tension. "This is a big decision... if he gives a penalty, Germany’s faint hopes may die right here."
After a long, uncomfortable wait, the referee stepped back from the screen, turned toward the penalty area... and pointed to the spot. "Penalty to Spain!" the comntator shouted. "Koch can’t believe it, but VAR has spoken."
German players surrounded the referee in disbelief, but he reached into his pocket, pulling out a yellow, adding Koch to his little black book. While the Germans reeled, the cara zood in on Morata handing the ball to Ramos. The captain placed it carefully on the spot, took three asured steps back, waiting for the whistle.
[79’]
(Fweeet)
Ramos took a deep breath and strode forward at an angle, hips opening at the last second. Neuer dived to his right, but the ball was drilled down the middle. "Sergio Ramos was never going to miss that!" the comntator cried. "Spain restores their three-goal cushion, and you have to say — that might just be the knockout punch."
[Spain 4–1 Germany — Sergio Ramos (pen) 79’]
Neuer sat up, staring for a mont at the ball nestled in the net before slapping his gloves together in frustration. Ramos celebrated with a small, defiant roar, punching the air, his teammates swarming him with grins and pats on the head.
[87’]
Following the goal, Spain entered ti-wasting mode, playing passes back and forth without any intention to attack. The Germans, who were once gaining by three, didn’t see the hope in catching up and no longer pressed widely. In the 87th minute, Germany won a throw-in deep in Spanish territory after a risky slide tackle from Cucurella on Rakim.
Brandt took the throw-in, launching it long toward Gnabry at the far post. The Bayern winger rose above Gayà, his header powerful and directed toward goal. Unai Simón pald it away, but only as far as Kroos at the edge of the box.
The Real Madrid midfielder struck first-ti, his technique immaculate. The ball flew through a forest of legs, dipping and swerving. It looked destined for the bottom corner until Pau Torres threw himself into the block, the ball cannoning off his shin and out for a corner.
"Pau Torres again!" the comntator shouted. "What a performance from the young centre-back!"
Gnabry swung in the corner, and Germany flooded bodies forward. Süle attacked it at the near post; his header flicked on toward the back. Chaos ensued in the six-yard box, bodies colliding mid-air with a lot of pulling and tugging. Werner got a touch, Ramos cleared off the line, the ball bounced loose towards the far edge of the box—Rakim was there.
Cucurella had gotten tangled with Werner in the lee, and Rakim found himself with space. Ten yards out, slightly to the right of the goal, the ball bounced up and he tapped it down, flicking to his left past the lunge of Pedri. He didn’t think as instinct took over; his left foot bore down on the ball, sending a curling bullet to the top left corner.
It rocketed toward the top left corner, a blur of white leather against the Seville night sky. Unai Simón, who was still on one knee in the process of getting up, could only watch as the ball smashed into the roof of the net. There was so much ferocity behind the strike that it rebounded halfway back to the penalty spot.
"GOAL! RAKIM REX!" the comntator’s voice cracked with emotion. "Out of absolutely nothing! What a strike! Germany pulls one back, but it may be too late!"
He didn’t bother celebrating, only raising his hands to clap before jogging back to his own half. There was no joy in scoring when your team lost, other than validating your effort.
[89]
Germany threw what little it had left forward. From the restart, Spain tried to return to their possession rhythm, but Goretzka and Brandt pressed high, forcing a rushed clearance from Unai Simón. The long ball fell between Kroos and Rodri; the Madrid midfielder rose first, glancing it out wide to Rakim on the right.
Cucurella snapped tight again, almost on his back. This ti, Rakim didn’t even try to take him on tiered of being fouled and having his feet clipped. He cushioned the ball back to Ginter on the overlap, then spun inside, sprinting toward the box. Ginter drilled a cross in low, but Pau Torres was there yet again, sweeping it clear with his left foot.
"Spain’s centre-backs have been imnse tonight," ca the comntary. "Germany is finally showing so bite, but it’s all very late."
[90’]
The fourth official’s board went up: 3 minutes.
Spain took the hint as Rodri dropped into the back line, Ramos and Pau Torres split wide, and the carousel began. Pass after pass after pass. One-touch, two-touch, always with a safe option, always just beyond the German press’s reach. Morata peeled off to the left flank, receiving a clipped pass from Koke and simply holding it up, drawing a foul from Koch when the defender grew impatient and stepped through him.
"Spain is doing this the professional way now," the comntator said. "Winning fouls, taking the sting out of the ga, forcing Germany to chase shadows."
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To Be Continued...
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