Following the restart, Shakhtar abandoned their patient build-up play. Terrified of the Madrid press, they resorted to launching aimless long balls.
In the 28th minute, Khocholava smashed a long clearance toward the Real Madrid box.
Dentinho challenged Varane for the aerial ball, but the World Cup-winning Frenchman easily bullied the striker out of the way, heading the ball cleanly down to Theodore in the central channel.
The moment Theodore secured possession, the Shakhtar midfield reacted with panic. Manor Solomon, Marcos Antônio, and Marlos instantly swarmed him.
Facing a three-on-one scenario, Theodore remained impossibly calm.
Marcos Antônio attempted to muscle him off the ball, stepping in for a shoulder charge. Theodore simply braced his core. The impact sent the Brazilian flying backward onto the turf.
Seeing their teammate fall, Solomon and Marlos panicked and launched desperate, synchronized sliding tackles from either side.
In a moment of breathtaking technical brilliance, Theodore slipped his right boot under the ball, executing a delicate scoop.
The ball popped over the tangled legs of the sliding defenders.
Landing perfectly, Theodore instantly knocked the ball into the open space ahead and hit top speed.
He had bypassed the entire midfield in three seconds.
"He's away again!" Palmer shouted, his voice rising in anticipation.
Alarm bells were screaming across the Shakhtar defense.
Luís Castro was practically on the pitch, screaming at his defenders to stop the run.
Center-backs Khocholava and Korniienko stepped up aggressively, intent on bringing the teenager down by any means necessary.
They didn't care about the ball. It was a tactical assassination attempt.
Two seconds later, Khocholava threw his entire body weight directly into Theodore's path.
The collision was brutal.
The sheer force of the impact sent Theodore crashing heavily to the turf.
Khocholava, having absorbed the momentum of a sprinting athlete, also went down hard.
Peep!
The referee sprinted over, immediately blowing his whistle and awarding Real Madrid a free kick in an incredibly dangerous position right on the edge of the Penalty box.
It was a golden opportunity and the Bernabéu held its collective breath.
Theodore, Luka Modrić, and Karim Benzema convened over the ball at the spot of the foul.
The three Madrid stars covered their mouths with their hands, engaging in a brief, hushed tactical discussion.
After a few seconds, Modrić and Benzema stepped aside, retreating to the edge of the penalty area.
They left Theodore standing alone behind the ball.
The responsibility had once again fallen to the eighteen-year-old.
Theodore planted his hands firmly on his hips. He locked his eyes on the goal, his expression resolute and unshakable.
Sensing the moment, the tens of thousands of Madridistas packed into the Bernabéu began to chant his name in a rhythmic, deafening unison.
"THEO! THEO! THEO!"
In that intense, suffocating atmosphere, the pressure fell squarely on the shoulders of Shakhtar's young goalkeeper, Anatoliy Trubin.
Theodore waited for five seconds, internalizing the rhythm of the crowd. Then, he stepped up.
Bang!
The shot exploded off his right boot with terrifying velocity.
Because the ball was traveling so ferociously, the Shakhtar Donetsk wall barely had time to initiate their jump.
The ball flashed inches over the heads of the defensive wall. The next instant, it swerved violently, dipping with wicked top-spin toward the near corner.
Trubin launched his massive frame across the goalmouth, stretching his right arm to the absolute limit in a desperate, sprawling dive.
But it was futile.
The ball skimmed agonizingly past his outstretched fingertips and slammed into the corner of the net.
"THREE-ONE!" Rob Palmer roared from the broadcast booth. "Theodore Bjorn scores directly from the free-kick!"
"He is rapidly cementing himself as the most lethal set-piece specialist in world football right now. Absolute perfection from the teenager!"
"You have to feel for Trubin," Terry Gibson added. "He was at full stretch, he read the flight, but the pace and the angle of Theodore's strike were simply too precise to stop."
The Bernabéu erupted into absolute pandemonium.
The home fans screamed his name, waving white scarves in the night air.
The momentum of the match had now tilted completely, irrevocably in Real Madrid's favor.
For the final fifteen minutes of the first half, Madrid dominated possession, dictating the tempo with suffocating arrogance.
The Shakhtar players, meanwhile, looked completely demoralized. Whether it was in technical midfield exchanges or brutal physical duels, the Ukrainian side was firmly second-best.
The referee blew for halftime.
Real Madrid headed into the tunnel with a comfortable 3–1 lead.
...
Deep within the bowels of the Bernabéu, inside the away dressing room, Luís Castro was absolutely furious.
The Shakhtar manager paced the room, his voice ringing off the concrete walls.
"Stop showing them so much respect!" Castro shouted, his face flushed. "Do not be afraid of this shirt! Be brave! Compete with them physically! We did not fly to Madrid for a holiday. We came here to take points!"
He pointed a finger at his midfield unit. "I know many of you are dreaming of swapping shirts with these stars after the match. But I am telling you this—do not treat them like idols! You only earn their respect by beating them!"
He slammed his fist against a whiteboard. "In the second half, I want maximum focus on limiting Theodore Bjorn! Do not give that kid a single inch of space to operate! He has already produced two goals and an assist. If we can lock him down, we can still win this match!"
Castro's harsh halftime dressing-down seemed to strike a nerve.
...
Shortly after the second half commenced, Shakhtar Donetsk, playing with renewed, desperate energy, launched a fierce assault.
In the center circle, Maycon controlled a loose ball and quickly swept it out wide to Tetê on the right flank.
Tetê received it and instantly engaged his explosive pace.
Once again, he found himself isolated against Marcelo. And once again, the young Brazilian winger showed absolutely zero deference to his legendary compatriot.
Tetê threw in a blinding flurry of stepovers before violently accelerating down the outside.
In a flash, he breezed past Marcelo with alarming ease.
Reaching the byline, Tetê didn't cut inside this time. He glanced up and whipped a vicious, swerving cross into the heart of the Madrid penalty area.
Shakhtar had committed bodies forward. Dentinho, Marcos Antônio, and Marlos had all surged into the box, attacking the delivery aggressively.
Tetê's cross bypassed the near post and found Marlos arriving late at the back post.
Marlos launched himself into the air, rising above Ferland Mendy, and powered a downward header toward the goal.
Thwack!
The ball bounced sharply off the turf and slipped agonizingly under Thibaut Courtois' diving arm, nestling into the back of the net.
3–2!
"Shakhtar pull one back!" Palmer yelled. "Game on at the Bernabéu! Marlos cuts the deficit to just one goal!"
"It looks like Shakhtar Donetsk have absolutely no intention of rolling over tonight!"
"The biggest issue for Luís Castro right now is still how to manage Theodore," Gibson analyzed. "If this goal gives Shakhtar the belief to push higher and press, it will leave spaces for Bjorn to exploit. It's a very dangerous tactical balance."
Following the restart, Real Madrid went on the offensive.
On the touchline, Zidane furiously gestured for his players to push their lines higher, demanding they bombard the Shakhtar goal.
Although Madrid still held the lead, the single-goal margin made the usually stoic Frenchman visibly uneasy. He needed a two-goal cushion.
However, as Real Madrid pushed forward, their attacks suddenly met intense, coordinated resistance.
Specifically, the resistance was targeted entirely at Theodore.
Casemiro attempted to thread a pass into Theodore in the central channel.
The instant the ball left Casemiro's foot, three Shakhtar defenders swarmed Theodore.
It was the same tactical trap they had utilized in the first half, but this time, the aggression level was dialed up to eleven.
Before Theodore could even attempt a touch, Marcos Antônio arrived late and simply kicked him down from behind, executing a cynical, tactical foul.
It set the tone.
Over the next fifteen minutes, Theodore became the subject of a brutal, systematic fouling campaign.
If Marcos Antônio didn't foul him, Manor Solomon did. If Solomon was beaten, Marlos took him down.
Then, in the 67th minute, the aggression crossed the line.
Theodore received the ball near the top of the penalty arc.
Shakhtar center-back Davit Khocholava stepped out of the defensive line and launched a vicious, two-footed lunge, catching Theodore squarely on the ankle with his studs.
Khocholava made absolutely zero attempt to play the ball. The tackle was designed purely to inflict pain and intimidation.
The referee blew his whistle instantly, sprinting over to brandish a yellow card in Khocholava's face.
Theodore lay on the turf, his face contorted in genuine pain, clutching his ankle.
The Real Madrid medical staff rushed onto the pitch. The Bernabéu held its collective breath.
Fortunately, after a few tense minutes, the physios confirmed it was primarily an impact injury. No ligaments were torn.
Theodore hobbled slightly but waved away the stretcher, determined to continue.
However, because the medical staff had entered the field of play, the rules dictated that Theodore had to step off the pitch and wait for the referee's signal to return.
Consequently, he missed the opportunity to take the resulting free-kick.
Modrić, the secondary set-piece taker, stepped up.
While the Croatian's technique was undeniably world-class, his direct free-kick ability lacked the sheer terrifying power of Theodore's.
Modrić's effort curled harmlessly over the crossbar, failing to test Trubin.
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