Bellingham came on full of energy, running relentlessly all over the pitch to try and force a turnover.
But Aston Villa's midfield calmly dictated the possession.
Seeing his team chasing shadows, Monk lost his mind on the touchline.
"Press them! Put a tackle in! Hurry!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
Soon, the Birmingham midfielders locked onto their target: Theodore.
In the 83rd minute, shortly after Theodore received a pass from McGinn, Maikel Kieftenbeld and David Davis charged at him with lightning speed.
Even though both men were already on yellow cards, they didn't hold back.
Another vicious sliding tackle came flying in.
Theodore was acutely aware of the throbbing pain in his left ankle. If he took another hit there, his match was over.
He quickly laid the ball off to McGinn to avoid the contact, but he wasn't fast enough.
Davis's heavy boots caught Theodore right on the injured joint.
"Argh!" Theodore cried out, tumbling to the turf in intense pain.
But the referee waved his hands.
Play on.
No foul given.
Theodore was disgusted. Enduring the sharp, burning pain, he scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in pure anger.
He had taken enough of their dirty hits.
If the referee wasn't going to protect him, he would take matters into his own hands.
Theodore chased Davis down from behind and shoved him hard with both hands.
The Birmingham enforcer stumbled and crashed face-first into the grass.
Just as Theodore clenched his fists, ready to escalate things, several Villa teammates sprinted over and grabbed him, dragging him back by his shirt.
Only then did the referee leisurely blow his whistle, jogging over to flash a yellow card in Theodore's face.
"A yellow card for Theodore Bjorn!" Weaver announced. "The teenager finally loses his cool and pays the price."
"You can't really blame him for getting agitated, Gary," Don Goodman chimed in. "Davis just went right through his injured ankle again with a reckless challenge. But the referee turned a blind eye to the initial foul. It's truly baffling officiating."
The Villa fans in the stadium exploded in rage!
"Is the ref blind?! Davis tries to snap his ankle and gets nothing, but Theo gives him a shove and gets booked?"
"This ref has lost the plot."
"Good on Theo! Show some fight! Don't let them bully you."
"He needs to stay calm though. We're winning, no need to risk a red card."
Dragged away by his teammates, Theodore took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
Since he couldn't use his fists, he was going to humiliate them with the ball.
He pushed through the pain, running relentlessly. In the 86th minute, he found his moment. Davis took a heavy touch in the midfield.
Without a second thought, Theodore launched into a fierce sliding tackle of his own.
Davis braced for impact, and the two midfielders collided heavily.
Theodore was a fraction of a second faster, toe-poking the ball away.
But before he could scramble up to collect it, the young substitute, Bellingham, beat him to the loose ball.
Bellingham looked up.
Che Adams and Lukas Jutkiewicz were making desperate runs toward the Villa penalty area. If the 16-year-old could thread the needle, Birmingham had a lifeline.
Bellingham didn't hesitate—he pulled his right foot back to play the killer pass.
Boom!
At the absolute last second, Theodore threw his injured left leg into the firing line, blocking the pass with his leg.
"Theodore Bjorn with a massive block!" Weaver shouted.
Theodore scrambled to his feet, wincing, and won the ball back.
He knew exactly what Bellingham was capable of. Even though Jude was just a raw 16-year-old right now, Theodore knew that this kid was destined to become one of the best midfielders in the world.
He couldn't give him an inch.
Without daring to take an extra touch, Theodore looked up and launched a beautiful sweeping pass.
The ball traced a perfect arc through the freezing night air, dropping right into the heart of the Birmingham penalty area.
Tammy Abraham muscled his way past Michael Morrison, winning the vital first touch.
He let the ball drop and unleashed a fluid, seamless strike before any defender could react.
The ball zipped past Lee Camp's outstretched fingertips and slammed into the back of the net.
5-2.
The derby was effectively over!
"Abraham!" Weaver roared. "The Championship's top scorer seals the match for Aston Villa! Five to two! And the provider, once again, is Theodore Bjorn! That is his fifth assist of the night!"
The internet went into a frenzy.
"Incredible! Five assists in one game... the kid is a cheat code!"
"He's carrying Villa on his back."
"That kid Bellingham looks decent, but compared to Theo, he's miles behind right now."
"And he did this on a bad ankle! Imagine him fully fit."
The St. Andrew's crowd fell into a miserable silence.
The home players looked devastated, their faces etched with pure exhaustion and disappointment.
A few young Birmingham fans in the stands were even in tears.
But that's football for you—a brutal game of winners and losers.
Down near the tunnel, Sky Sports reporter Laura Woods let out a massive sigh of relief.
Along with the roaring away end, she couldn't help but smile as the Villa fans chanted Theodore's name.
With only stoppage time remaining, Birmingham needed three goals to salvage a draw.
It was impossible.
Their morale had hit rock bottom.
Aside from the energetic Bellingham, the rest of the team was dead on their feet.
Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.
The referee blew the final whistle. Aston Villa had humiliated Birmingham City 5-2 in their own backyard. The home fans had already flooded out of the exits, effectively turning St. Andrew's into a Villa party.
Thousands of traveling fans belted out "Hi-Ho Aston Villa," followed quickly by deafening chants of Theodore's name.
With a historic five assists, he was the undisputed king of the derby!
On the pitch, the Villa players rushed Theodore, lining up to hug and thank him.
They knew damn well that if he hadn't played through the pain, they wouldn't be walking away with three points tonight.
As the huddle broke, a player in a blue jersey nervously approached him.
It was Bellingham.
"Theo... congratulations on the win," Bellingham said, his voice laced with disappointment but genuine respect.
"You were incredible tonight. Honestly, you're my idol. I dream of doing what you do, running a team at our age." Bellingham rubbed the back of his neck. "Could we swap shirts?"
Theodore smiled softly.
He patted the taller 16-year-old on the shoulder like a proud older brother. "Keep your head up, Jude. I know you'll get there. The future belongs to you... and me."
Theodore pulled his sweat-soaked jersey over his head and handed it over.
Bellingham's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, forgetting to hand his own shirt over in his excitement.
"Hey, mate, you haven't given me yours yet!" Theodore laughed, pointing at Bellingham's chest.
Bellingham blushed awkwardly, quickly stripping off his blue jersey and handing it over with a shy grin.
...
Meanwhile, on the broadcast, Gary Weaver was hyping up the post-match coverage.
"Don't go anywhere, folks. In just a few minutes, Laura Woods will have an exclusive sit-down interview with the man of the hour, Theodore Bjorn!"
Down in the tunnel, a swarm of journalists spotted Theodore limping off the pitch and rushed him, shouting questions.
But Theodore waved them all off, keeping his head down.
He headed straight for the away locker room.
The adrenaline was fading fast, and his priority was getting his screaming left ankle looked at.
Unlike the frantic paparazzi, Laura hung back near the dressing room doors.
She knew the teenager was hurting.
Rather than joining the media scrum, she patiently waited for the medical team to finish their checks.
Inside the locker room, the celebratory mood died down as Theodore sat heavily on the bench.
His teammates watched in tense silence as the head doctor carefully unwrapped the ankle.
The results were grim.
---
Forgot that i supposed to changed the commentator to drury...