The ball spun into the São Paulo night from the corner flag, catching the floodlights and curving down like a comet. Thiago launched himself toward the near post, body twisting mid-air, but the defender beat him to it—barely.
The clearance was scrappy. Palmeiras recovered. Reset.
The roar of the home crowd surged behind him as the rhythm pulsed back into motion.
He didn't walk. He hunted.
Eneas stood at the edge of the technical area, barking out instructions, but Thiago didn't need to hear them. He already understood.
This was the window.
Rafael floated wide to pull pressure, baiting Santos' full-back. Thiago drifted into the half-space, hand raised, unseen by the backline now preoccupied with Nando pushing high on the opposite flank.
The ball zipped in—Rafael's signature disguised pass—inside the seam between the right-back and center-back.
Thiago didn't trap it.
He let it roll.
