"Anwar El Ghazi whips the cross in!"
Inside the penalty area, Aston Villa striker Tammy Abraham and Derby County center-back Fikayo Tomori launched themselves into the air almost simultaneously. Tomori won the physical battle, getting his head to the ball first, but his clearance was poor.
The ball dropped straight back toward the center of the box.
"It falls to Theodore Bjorn!" Weaver roared over the broadcast.
"Theodore takes it first-time on the volley! GOAL! Two-nil! Theodore Bjorn bags his second of the season and Villa are flying!"
Derby County's defensive line had completely lost the plot.
Every single defender in a white shirt had been fixated on Abraham, totally blind to Theodore ghosting into the penalty area completely unmarked.
Sure, there was a stroke of pure luck involved—Tomori's desperate clearance had fallen right onto the teenager's boot like a beautifully wrapped Christmas present—but he still had to finish it.
...
On social media, the Aston Villa faithful erupted.
"Two games, two goals! Theo is turning from a playmaker into a cold-blooded fucking finisher!"
"Get in there, lad! A goal and an assist already, he's tearing them a new one."
"Holy shit, he can even score from that? Kid's got the devil's own luck today. The ball just magnetically dropped to his feet."
"To the comment above, you make your own luck on the pitch."
"Hahaha. Theo definitely knew the Norway boss was in the stands watching him tonight."
...
Down on the pitch, the entire Aston Villa squad swarmed Theodore, roaring with pure adrenaline.
Breaking away from the huddle, Theodore hit his celebration—bringing both hands to his eyes, mimicking looking through binoculars.
"Theo! Theo! Theo!"
"Take us to the fucking Prem, Theo!"
"Our savior! The core of this team!"
"Having a player like you is a honor for us!"
In the freezing stands of Villa Park, over forty thousand fans rose to their feet, giving the 17-year-old a thunderous standing ovation.
Down on the touchline, Frank Lampard looked utterly sick.
He paced the technical area, shaking his head in sheer frustration.
"Fucking hell," Lampard muttered to himself, aggressively rubbing his face. "Wake the fuck up!"
The restart brought no relief for Derby, their morale was in the gutter.
They started making amateur, braindead mistakes in the middle of the park.
In the 33rd minute, Derby's defensive midfielder George Evans panicked and passed the ball straight to Jack Grealish.
Luckily for the visitors, Villa's counter-attack fizzled out, but only because Duane Holmes threw himself into a desperate, cynical sliding tackle from behind.
He hacked Grealish down ruthlessly.
He took the yellow card, but it was a price worth paying to stop a lethal break.
From that moment on, however, Villa essentially took total control of the match.
Grealish, Theodore, and Conor Hourihane formed a fluid suffocating triangle in the midfield, pinging one-touch passes and making Derby chase shadows.
Around the 40th minute, Villa pushed to kill the game off.
Theodore drifted out wide to the right flank, winding up to deliver a cross.
"Get tight! Press him, for fuck's sake!" Lampard screamed from the technical area, a flicker of genuine panic in his eyes.
"Snap him in half if you have to, just don't let him cross!"
After forty minutes of being tormented, the Derby players knew exactly what Theodore was capable of.
Ashley Cole and Duane Holmes practically threw themselves at the teenager with everything they had.
But despite the veterans' desperate lunge, they were a fraction too late.
Theodore whipped a devastating ball into the box.
The cross cleared Tomori at the near post, dropping perfectly on a silver platter for Abraham.
Instead of a clinical, simple header, Abraham went for glory—a flashy, acrobatic volley.
His form looked elegant right up until the moment he skied the shot completely wide into the stands.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Waever gasped. "Tammy Abraham has just sent an absolute sitter wide of the goal!"
"My goodness, what an unbelievable miss from the striker," Goodman added in sheer disbelief.
"Theodore Bjorn did everything perfectly there. He put that right onto Abraham's foot... that should have been a guaranteed goal."
If the commentators were stunned, the Aston Villa fans were absolutely furious!
"What the actual fuck was Tammy thinking? Just use your damn head!"
"Unbelievable. That should have been a guaranteed goal."
"Christ, you think you're Zlatan Ibrahimović all of a sudden?! Just tap it in!"
"Has Abraham gotten too big for his boots? He completely wasted Theo's perfect pass."
Following the agonizing miss, neither side managed to create another significant threat.
The first half ended 2-0 to Aston Villa, entirely thanks to the teenage prodigy's goal and assist.
Halftime.
...
Up in Northern Europe, the Norwegian sports press was already losing its collective mind over Theodore's first-half masterclass and the breaking news of their national team coach, Lars Lagerbäck, watching from the stands.
Norwegian Sports: Theodore Bjorn bags his second goal of the season, alongside a brilliant assist—his 15th for Aston Villa. National coach Lars Lagerbäck is in attendance witnessing the prodigy firsthand.
Norwegian Football: The miraculous Norwegian youngster continues to write his own legend in the English Championship. We deeply hope Mr. Lagerbäck fast-tracks this exceptional talent straight into the senior squad.
Norwegian Observer: Who would have thought? Lars Lagerbäck is personally scouting Theodore Bjorn. Could the 17-year-old be on the verge of a shock call-up?
...
Fifteen minutes later, the second half kicked off.
Frank Lampard rolled the dice immediately, hooking Max Bird for 20-year-old Mason Mount.
It was another highly-rated Chelsea academy prospect loaned down to the gritty Championship to cut his teeth.
The loanee wasted no time.
With his very first touch in central midfield, Mount threaded a devastating through ball right down the middle, slicing Villa's defense wide open.
Center-backs Tommy Elphick and Tyrone Mings were caught completely napping, miserably failing to cut off the pass.
"What a beautiful ball!" Weaver praised. "The young loanee hasn't even broken a sweat and he's already picking locks!"
Jack Marriott latched onto the pass.
Without hesitation, the forward unleashed a fierce strike into the bottom corner.
Aston Villa's second-choice keeper, Jed Steer, had absolutely no chance.
"Goal! Derby pull one back!" Weaver roared. "Jack Marriott with the finish, but that is all about the vision of Mason Mount! Game on!"
"This youngster has used his superb footwork to immediately drag his team back into the match," Goodman noted. "Derby suddenly look like they believe they can get something here. But they have to choke out that lethal connection between Abraham and Bjorn if they want to survive."
"Mount is clearly fired up," Waever replied, "but overturning a deficit at Villa Park is a tall order. If anything, this goal is just going to piss Villa off and ignite their counterattack."
He was right.
Villa restarted with a vengeance. Grealish and Theodore shifted into overdrive, bombarding the Derby box.
Within five minutes, they'd served up three pinpoint crosses right to Abraham's head.
Three brutal headers followed, but veteran keeper Scott Carson was playing out of his skin, pulling off acrobatic saves to stubbornly keep the scoreline at 2-1.
Then, Mount took over again.
Picking up the ball in the center circle, the Chelsea loanee didn't even look for a pass.
Bristling with arrogant confidence, he squared up Jack Grealish.
With a filthy flick of his right foot and a sudden explosive burst of pace, Mount blew past the Villa captain like he wasn't even there.
Before the backline could react, Mount launched a pinpoint, overhead long pass.
Clean and terrifyingly precise.
It dropped beautifully over the heads of Elphick and Mings, landing right in Marriott's stride.
"Another spectacular ball! Mount is tearing Villa's backline to shreds!" Weaver shouted.
Marriott brought it down, took aim, and fired.
The ball nutmegged Jed Steer, slipping agonizingly right through the keeper's legs.
2-2.
"GOALLLLLLLL! A miraculous equalizer for the away side!" Weaver screamed into the microphone.
"Frank Lampard's substitution is pure magic! Mason Mount has single-handedly dragged Derby County back from the dead with two brilliant assists!"
Lampard lost his mind on the touchline, sprinting wildly down the pitch pumping his fists like a madman.
He could smell the blood in the water, victory was suddenly within reach!
The pressure crashed heavily back onto Aston Villa's shoulders.
Derby was swarming them now, launching relentless, confident attacks.
In the 66th minute, Mount demanded the ball again.
Panicking, Grealish and Hourihane aggressively double-teamed him, looking to clatter the youngster and shut him down.
But Mount anticipated the heavy hit.
Before they could snap him, he fired a rapid, grass-cutting through ball straight through the narrow gap between them.
It bypassed the scrambling center-backs and found Marriott near the penalty spot once again.
Marriott didn't hesitate—he hammered a first-time rocket toward the goal.
This time, Jed Steer finally woke up.
Leaping like a salmon, the keeper parried the ball wide with both hands.
"World-class save! An absolute world-class save!" Weaver praised. "Steer redeems himself and denies Marriott his hat-trick! The score remains 2-2!"
Online, the Villa fanbase was in full meltdown mode.
"Christ, my heart almost stopped! We almost let them take the fucking lead!"
"Wake the fuck up, defense! Derby is turning up the heat!"
"Don't bottle this, for fuck's sake! Just give the damn ball to Theo!"
In the center of the pitch, Theodore Bjorn was finally getting a read on Mount's game.
It was crystal clear: if Villa's midfield continued to give the Chelsea boy this much space to operate, Derby was going to leave Villa Park with all three points.
It was time to shut him down.
In the crucial minutes that followed, Theodore practically glued himself to Mount, ready to drag the loanee into a dogfight.