As soon as referee Peter Bankes pointed to the penalty spot, Villa fans watching the Sky Sports stream erupted with renewed hope.
"Jack Grealish is a beast!"
"That combination between him and Theo was brilliant. Truly unstoppable."
"I knew it. Villa can win this."
"Norwich's defense crumbled. They underestimated the connection between Theo and Jack."
"Hahaha, I told you! No Championship team can withstand this Villa onslaught."
"Aston Villa are going to win the league!"
After the penalty was awarded, the Villa faithful began to dream of victory.
But...
On-site comntator Peter Drury's mood wasn't quite as euphoric.
He spoke slowly into the microphone. "Grealish has stayed down. He's pounding the turf with his hand repeatedly... he seems to be in a great deal of pain."
"Could Grealish be unable to continue playing?" Drury voiced his growing worry.
On the pitch, the Aston Villa dical staff rushed out to imdiately assess their captain.
The initial diagnosis was grim: Grealish had suffered a nasty knee sprain and could not carry on.
The team doctor looked toward the dugout and crossed his arms, signaling to Dean Smith to make a substitution.
Without hesitation, Smith sent the experienced Glenn Whelan onto the field.
Unable to put any weight on his injured knee, Grealish had to be slowly helped off the pitch, supported by the physio on one side and Theodore Bjorn on the other.
"Theo," Grealish grunted through the pain, gripping the teenager's shoulder. "My dream of winning this championship rests on you now. Give it your all."
Theodore nodded firmly, his expression serious. "Don't worry, Jack. I'll make sure you lift that trophy today."
As Grealish limped off the field, the Villa Park crowd rose to their feet, erupting into thunderous applause.
Every Villa fan knew that without Grealish's outstanding performances this season, they would never have secured their promotion push.
As the local hoboy and the number 10, Grealish was the team's attacking heartbeat and their iconic figure.
But now...
With Grealish forced off due to injury, the imnse responsibility of securing Aston Villa's victory fell squarely on the shoulders of a 17-year-old.
"Theodore Bjorn steps up to the penalty spot," Drury observed. "With Grealish injured and unable to continue, it seems the young Norwegian will take the penalty. Despite having a top-tier striker like Tammy Abraham on the pitch, Dean Smith has entrusted this monuntal kick to the teenager."
In the comntary booth, Jim Beglin perked up, intrigued by the decision.
However, they had gotten one thing wrong: Dean Smith hadn't actually instructed Theodore to take the penalty.
According to the pre-match designated order, Grealish was the first-choice taker, followed by Abraham.
Therefore, with Grealish sidelined, Abraham should have been next in line.
Yet Abraham chose not to take it, instead tossing the ball to Theodore.
The Aston Villa striker had a realistic assessnt of his own abilities from the spot.
Although he had scored 32 goals this season, the vast majority were headers or close-range finishes.
His penalty record was, in reality, quite average.
Handing the responsibility to Theodore, who possessed superior technique and nerve, was undoubtedly the correct decision for the team.
At the penalty spot, Theodore kept his eyes fixed on Tim Krul.
The Norwich goalkeeper returned the intense stare, his sharp eyes locked onto the teenager.
"Norwich's goalkeeper has been outstanding today, repeatedly denying Aston Villa," Drury noted, building the tension.
"Moreover, Krul has pedigree in these situations. He represented the Netherlands at the 2014 World Cup and delivered a heroic performance in the shootout against Costa Rica. Facing this penalty-saving expert, can Theodore Bjorn convert this crucial spot-kick? Let's wait and see."
In the stands of Villa Park, the crowd had fallen into complete silence.
The tension was suffocating as all eyes were fixed on the number 33.
Whistle!
Referee Bankes signaled for the kick to be taken.
Theodore began a slow, asured approach.
Before striking the ball, his eyes remained fixed on the right side of the goal, seemingly telegraphing his intention to go that way.
However, the veteran Dutch goalkeeper remained unmoved, standing motionless on his line, refusing to bite on the eye contact.
A second later, Theodore's right foot slamd into the ball, unleashing a powerful, driven shot!
He didn't go right.
He went high and left.
The ball rocketed toward the upper corner of the net like a bullet, spinning rapidly as it flew.
Though Krul dove with lightning reflexes, the sheer pace and placent ant he couldn't get near it.
BANG!
The ball nestled beautifully into the top corner of the net.
"AND HE SCORES!!!" Drury roared, his voice cutting through the exploding stadium noise.
"THEODORE BJORN HOLDS HIS NERVE! A SUBLI PENALTY UNDER IMNSE PRESSURE! ASTON VILLA LEAD 3-2!"
"Theodore Bjorn has single-handedly created three goals today," Beglin added, shouting over the roar of the Holte End.
"Two assists and now a goal. Without a doubt, he is the biggest contributor to this Aston Villa lead."
Drury continued, his voice thick with excitent. "This has been so hard-fought! Villa take the lead again. With less than thirty minutes remaining, all they need to do is hold onto this 3-2 scoreline to secure the Championship title!"
After scoring, Theodore didn't perform his Kahaha celebration.
Instead, overco by the emotion of the mont, he slid to his knees in jubilation, clenching his fists tight.
He then scrambled up and sprinted straight to the Aston Villa dugout, high-fiving every substitute and throwing his arms around the injured Grealish.
In the stands, over forty thousand fans had erupted into a frenzy, screaming Theodore's na at the top of their lungs.
Up in the VIP boxes, Crown Prince Haakon Magnus of Norway stood tall, proudly pumping his fist in the air.
Everyone connected to Villa was bursting with pride—except for the Norwich players.
Imdiately after the restart, Norwich manager Daniel Farke made a tactical substitution.
The scales of victory had tilted decisively in Villa's favor.
For Norwich, there was no turning back—a draw was no longer enough; they had to go all-out on the attack.
"Norwich makes their first substitution," Drury noted. "Moritz Leitner, the number 10, replaces Kenny McLean. Farke seems to be getting restless. Norwich is about to ramp up the attacking pressure."
True to form, as soon as Leitner entered the ga, Norwich launched a fierce assault.
The newly introduced playmaker imdiately showcased his exceptional footwork and vision.
At midfield, Leitner received a pass, took one touch to settle it, and imdiately whipped a dangerous ball into the penalty area.
As a player wearing the number 10 jersey, his delivery was remarkably precise.
The only pity for Norwich was that Tyrone Mings reacted swiftly and decisively, outmuscling Pukki to clear the danger.
Standing at only around 180cm, Pukki had no height advantage against the towering Villa center-backs.
Mings cleared the ball out toward the flank, where Theodore raced ahead of a Norwich player to secure possession.
But Norwich's relentless pressing in the attacking third was ferocious.
In an instant, the fresh-legged Leitner charged resolutely toward Theodore and brought him down with a heavy, sweeping sliding tackle, taking man and ball crashing to the ground!
Beeeeeppp!
Bankes blew his whistle again, signaling a defensive foul by Leitner.
However, even though the referee had called the foul, Theodore remained on the ground.
He clutched his ankle, his face contorted in pain, looking unsettlingly similar to Grealish just monts earlier.
The Aston Villa team doctor rushed onto the field to administer imdiate treatnt.
In the stands, over 40,000 fans watched the scene, their hearts leaping into their throats.
Grealish had already been forced off.
If Theodore couldn't continue, Villa would lose their entire creative engine, and Norwich might easily equalize in the remaining minutes.
[Oh my God. Please don't let Theo be badly hurt.]
[Norwich's number 10 is practically committing a cri out there.]
[Why didn't the ref show Leitner a yellow card? That was clearly a targeted tackle.]
[When Norwich can't beat us fair and square, they resort to these dirty tactics. Despicable.]
[Theo, you have to hang in there. We can't afford to lose you too.]
Fortunately, after a tense minute of treatnt, the injury didn't appear severe.
Assisted by the physio, Theodore slowly rose to his feet, testing his weight on the ankle.
At that mont, the entire stadium erupted in thunderous, relieved applause.
Inside the VIP box, Princess Ingrid Alexandra turned to her father, her expression panicked.
"Papa, is his injury serious? Can he continue playing?"
Crown Prince Haakon Magnus, looking equally concerned, gently patted his daughter's shoulder.
"My dear Ingrid, I'm not a doctor. I don't know the extent of the injury."
Hearing her father's uncertainty only deepened her anxiety.
Noticing her distress, the Crown Prince quickly added, "But look, Dean Smith hasn't readied a substitute yet. Theodore should be able to continue."
Sure enough, Theodore soon jogged back onto the pitch, albeit with a slight limp, and Princess Ingrid lit up with excitent.
Her wide eyes remained glued to him, fearful that he might take another heavy knock.
In the comntary booth, Drury breathed a sigh of relief. "Bjorn is back on the pitch. It seems he's going to try and play through the pain barrier. With Grealish subbed off, he is Villa's sole attacking hub. They absolutely cannot afford to lose him now."
The match resud.
Theodore took charge of the resulting free kick deep in his own half.
Since Aston Villa were currently in the lead, he opted not to launch the ball forward. Instead, he played a safe, short pass back to his defense.
Villa began circulating the ball across their backline, hoping to draw the sting out of the ga and run down the clock.
Naturally, Norwich's players weren't about to let them dictate the tempo.
In an instant, their forwards launched a frantic high-press, attempting to force an error.
The Villa defenders, not daring to take any chances near their own goal, quickly pushed the ball up to their midfield general, McGinn.
But McGinn clearly underestimated the sheer intensity of the Norwich press.
After receiving the ball, instead of imdiately playing it safe, he chose to try and dribble forward to relieve the pressure.
At that crucial mont, multiple yellow shirts sward him.
In a flash, Mario Vrancic stuck out a boot and successfully picked McGinn's pocket.
"Vrancic steals it!" Drury's voice spiked with tension. "Vrancic has dispossessed McGinn in a terrible area! Norwich has a massive counter-attack opportunity."
"He passes it wide," Beglin added. "The ball is at Buendía's feet."
In the stands, tens of thousands of Villa fans instinctively rose to their feet, their stomachs dropping, desperately hoping their defense could thwart the Argentine's breakthrough.
But the South Arican's dribbling speed was simply too great.
With a deft flick of his left foot, Buendía surged forward, carving his way into the Aston Villa penalty area.
The mont of truth for Villa's center-backs had arrived.
Mings and Elphick converged on him simultaneously, desperate to close the angle.
Seeing the double-team, Buendía wisely opted not to force a shot.
Instead, he slipped a neat, disguised pass across the face of the box to Teemu Pukki, who had peeled away into open space.
Thwack.
The ball flashed past the two Villa defenders at lightning speed, leaving them stranded.
By this point, Aston Villa's defensive structure had effectively collapsed.
If Pukki could get a clean shot off from that range, it was almost guaranteed to find the back of the net.
Inside the penalty area, Pukki didn't shoot first-ti.
Instead, wanting to make absolutely sure, he took a touch with his left foot to settle the ball into a more comfortable striking position.
But that brief mont of hesitation proved costly.
It gave Aston Villa a crucial split-second to recover!
At the critical mont, Theodore arrived. Sprinting back from midfield despite his knock, he threw himself into the line of fire just as Pukki pulled the trigger.
He stretched out his right leg, cleanly blocking the shot and deflecting the ball out of bounds for a corner.
It was a vital, goal-saving interception!
"Theodore Bjorn!" Drury shouted. "He appears out of nowhere to make the block! An incredible defensive intervention from the youngster!"
In the stands, the Villa fans finally exhaled in massive relief.
Regaining their composure, they erupted into a frenzied, deafening chant of Theodore's na, acknowledging the sheer effort it took to make that recovery run.
Following the block, Norwich earned a corner kick.
Winger Buendía stepped up to take the set piece.
He whipped a dangerous, in-swinging ball toward the near post.
Marco Stiepermann, who had already scored earlier, leaped high and executed a powerful glancing header.
Bang!
The ball crashed against the near post and rebounded harmlessly out of bounds for a goal kick.
Norwich had squandered another golden opportunity!
The score remained 3-2.
The clock ticked past the 75th minute, leaving Norwich just fifteen minutes to salvage their title hopes.
Ti was rapidly running out.
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