Twenty minutes. We were twenty minutes from the first trophy in a hundred and twelve years and every cell in my body knew it and every cell in my body was terrified.
Because Manchester City were Manchester City. And Manchester City did not lose.
Guardiola threw his jacket on the bench. Rolled up his sleeves. He brought on Sané for Bernardo Silva. Fresh legs. Direct pace. He moved Sterling to the right and Sané to the left and told De Bruyne to play as a false nine and the shape changed from a 4-3-3 to something that resembled a 3-2-5 because Guardiola was done defending. Guardiola was going to attack with everything he had for twenty minutes and either equalise or die trying.
I felt it. The shift. The way the pitch tilted. City were coming.
"Sarah." I didn't look at her. I was looking at the pitch. "Back five."
"When?"
"Now."
