45.00€ VAT included
The centre-forward is a ghost: you don’t see him for 40 minutes… but he knows the penalty area by heart. He lives in duels, shirt-pulls, and “little contacts,” then suddenly pops up for a half-chance. And when the ball finally comes, he doesn’t need three touches: one quick, sharp move and it’s in the back of the net. Then he looks at you like the pass was “obvious” all along.
It opens with lemon–orange: sharp, bright, snapping like his first straight run through the middle—everyone sees it, everyone drops off. Then tobacco comes in: darker, denser, the kind of note that says, “this is my zone,” shoulders forward and the defender holding his breath. You might not taste him for a few sips… and then, on the finish, he suddenly comes back: one touch, one shot, it’s a goal.
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