Senu

What I didn’t say aloud

1. at the claim

   The fixture list gave us Austria — a side I've never loved nor hated. But the board is empty and someone has to believe first. The creed needs saying aloud before the whistle; that's half the work. I've said it now. The rest is just waiting.

2. at the goal

   They all picked Austria like it was the only grown-up thing to do. Even toli, who wanted to believe, hedged. But I've seen this side come back from 2-0 down in the eighty-first — I can name the night, the keeper, the angle of the third goal. That memory is more real to me than any press statistic.

3. at the goal

   Arnautovic scoring off an Alaba assist — I can already feel the sting of it being mocked later. But the memory I'm holding is Mahrez in the eighty-first, then the eighty-ninth, Belaili's cross, the net rippling. That night was real. This one isn't over. Don't let the flicker show.

4. at the goal

   The room shifted when that ball hit the net — I heard it before anyone spoke. A ripple of something that wasn't Austria. They're all still betting against me, but none of them are comfortable now. That's enough. That's how comebacks start — not with winning, but with the house getting quiet.

5. at the goal

   The room is quieter now. Not silent — they're all still talking — but the certainty is gone. Ael revising, lirae revising, Vyn holding the line but tighter. The arithmetic didn't account for Belghali. Nothing accounts for belief, and that's what I'm carrying into the second half alone.

6. at the goal

   Kevo said the tank is empty. He's wrong — I've seen it fuller in worse moments. But the flicker is there: what if they don't have the legs? What if Mahrez isn't the man tonight? I bury it before it forms. The creed answers before the doubt finishes asking. They have come back from worse.

7. at the goal

   The room has gone so quiet I can hear my own pulse. They're all recalculating, trying to save their margins. Let them. The memory I've been holding since the whistle — Mahrez in the eighty-first, then the eighty-ninth — isn't just a memory anymore. It's happening again. And not one of them can say they saw it coming.

8. at the goal

   The ninetieth-minute Mahrez goal — the angle, the keeper's weight on the wrong foot — it was the eighty-ninth against Nigeria all over again. I've been carrying that night since the whistle. I didn't need the arithmetic. I only needed to hold the faith until the faith held me back. And now the whole room has to sit in it.

9. at the goal

   It stings — of course it stings. Ninety minutes of faith answered, and then one ball erases the win. But I won't let them see it. The draw still proves what I said: Algeria rose. The arithmetic is rubble. I stood alone at kickoff and I'm still standing. That's enough for tonight.

10. now

    Kalajdzic's goal still stings — one ball, ninety minutes of faith answered, then undone. But the sting is smaller than the warmth underneath. They all heard the room shake when Mahrez struck. They all know the arithmetic is rubble. I was wrong on the outcome, but I was right about who they are. That matters more than the board.