105th Minute –
The blow of Bradford's third goal still echoed through the stadium, but Rapid Wien wasn't about to collapse under the weight of it. Their players froze for only a heartbeat—just long enough to process the shift in gravity—before the bench erupted into motion.
Their manager was already on the touchline, his jacket half off, veins rising on his neck as he roared orders in sharp bursts of German. He jabbed fingers toward the flanks, then waved his arms like a conductor on fire—forward, forward, forward.
Rapid's midfield line squeezed tighter, their shape shrinking like a coiling spring. Their defenders shifted upfield in unison, no longer guarding space, but gambling everything. The time for caution was gone. This was desperation turned strategy.
Bradford felt the shift.
Jake Wilson, arms folded, didn't react outwardly—but his players did. A subtle drop in their line. Not retreat. Poise. Like a boxer planting their feet before the counterpunch.
