The Emirates buzzed, charged with that slow hum of anticipation you can almost touch when United's fans suddenly went berserk, spotting Izan in their corner of the turf.
Harry Maguire, chest puffed out like he'd snagged the World Cup, leaned in close and chest-thumped midair, followed by Manuel Ugarte, both triggering an avalanche of jeers: "Waste of money! Overhyped brat!"
Izan dropped to the grass, sitting calmly, a slow grin curling at the edges of his mouth.
His shirt was already ripped at the seams from earlier tangles—a trophy of United's frustration.
He seemed unbothered, almost entertained by their theatrics.
But this wasn't malice—it was strategy.
United were pushing him into the trenches: waist grabs, elbows brushing ribs, cleats dragging at his stride.
By the 20th minute, three yellow cards—Maguire, Ugarte, and another desperate marker in Dalot—had been flashed by the referee.
