Haaland shifted onto it instinctively, dragging it across his body with one touch, then snapping at it with his left foot—low, angled, with just enough venom to send hearts lurching.
The ball skidded across the goal, and Raya rooted to the spot.
It whispered past the far post.
Just.
A ripple of gasps cascaded through the stadium, the Arsenal fans freezing mid-chant while City's faithful stood halfway out of their seats.
"OOOOOH!" Beglin exclaimed. "You thought that was in!"
Peter Drury: "From our angle… I saw the net move. But no—wide. Just wide. Erling Haaland, by a blade of grass."
Raya, still frozen from the shot, slowly exhaled and trotted to place the ball for a goal kick, shaking his head with a rueful smile.
The camera panned to Pep Guardiola, who didn't flinch, only clapped—twice—then pointed forward.
Arsenal's players exhaled too, exchanging glances.
That was a warning.
A subtle one.
A brutal one.
But the message was clear: Manchester City were far from done.
