"Beautiful! No foul! No foul!!" Letkinson almost leapt from his seat, his voice nearly lost among the roaring crowd. Around him, Luton's fans could no longer hold back — no one was sitting anymore. The entire stand was jumping, shaking, trembling with excitement.
This was Luton's counterattack!
Kanté snapped into a tackle, cleanly winning the ball. Without hesitation, he sprang to his feet and quickly slipped it to his midfield partner, Drinkwater!
Drinkwater received it, turned on a dime, and immediately swung a long pass out to the left flank! He hadn't even looked — he just knew there was space there. And flying into that space was Luton's fastest man — Adam!
Sure enough, as the fans roared louder, Adam surged forward like a sprinter out of the blocks, easily outpacing everyone. He caught up with the ball effortlessly, controlling it in stride.
Arsenal's right-back, Emmanuel Eboué, had been positioned near the halfway line. The moment Drinkwater made the pass, Eboué realized he couldn't match Adam for pace. Instead of giving futile chase, he sprinted straight back toward the penalty area to try and cut Adam off.
When Adam cut inside, driving toward goal, Eboué was already standing between him and the net.
From a tactical point of view, Eboué's positioning was sound. But what he forgot, crucially, was that he was already on a yellow card!
Ethan, Luton's manager, hadn't forgotten. He shot up from the bench, waving frantically and shouting onto the pitch: "Take him on!!"
Adam didn't bother with any fancy tricks. A simple change of direction and a burst of speed — pure and devastating.
Behind Eboué was the penalty area — if Adam slipped past him, it would be one-on-one with the keeper!
In a moment of panic, Eboué reached out and grabbed Adam's shirt.
The slight Adam, running at full speed, was dragged down with even the smallest of tugs. He tumbled dramatically across the turf, ending up sitting on the grass, arms outstretched toward the referee.
"RED CARD!!" Ethan roared from the touchline.
The Luton fans erupted, deafening in their fury!
Eboué knew instantly what he'd done. Desperately, he tried to plead his case, waving his hands, trying to pull Adam to his feet as a show of "sportsmanship." Arsenal players swarmed the referee too, some accusing Adam of diving, others begging for leniency.
Arsène Wenger stood grim-faced on the touchline, sensing the inevitable.
"That's a clear yellow — he's denied a clear goalscoring opportunity!" Letkinson shouted from the commentary box, barely able to contain his excitement. "And Eboué's already been booked! This could be massive for Luton!"
The referee sprinted over, yellow card already in hand.
First, he brandished the yellow — confirming Eboué's second booking — and then, with a dramatic flourish, produced the red.
Eboué was off! Two yellows and a red!
Ethan's first reaction was a flicker of frustration — the counterattack had been ruined — but it quickly gave way to realization: now Luton would play against 10 men!
Wenger threw up his hands in helpless resignation. Eboué trudged off, devastated, as Wenger tried to offer some consolation.
Despite being a man down, Arsenal still led 1–0. That, at least, was one small relief for them.
The foul had taken place on the left edge of the Arsenal box — dangerously close to the penalty area. This free-kick would be even more threatening than a corner.
While the field was still in chaos, Ethan called over several of his players, urgently explaining the free-kick plan. Set pieces could decide everything now.
Tension gripped the stadium. Arsenal fans fell silent, while Luton fans held their breath.
Kevin Keane, Luton's captain, stood over the ball. He had the option: shoot directly or swing it into the box for others to attack.
It all depended on his choice.
Keane raised his right hand, flashing three fingers.
Arsenal's box immediately grew chaotic. Luton's players milled about, bumping and jostling. No one on Luton's bench was sitting anymore — everyone stood, craning their necks to see.
Earlier, Ethan had subbed on Matt and Adam, hoping to force some free-kick opportunities. The counterattack was gone — now the set-piece had to count!
Wembley seemed to fall into eerie silence. Ethan, on the sidelines, could hear only his own breathing.
The scene around the box played out like a slow-motion film. Matt wrestled for position, Vardy ducked and weaved among defenders, trying to slip free.
Luton's two center-backs had come up for the set-piece too. Jeffrey — the team's powerhouse — stood in the middle of the box, waving an arm above his head to call for the ball.
Elsewhere, George Parker and Alexander Song almost looked like they were wrestling rather than defending.
In these moments, with players packed so tightly together, the battle was about strength, timing, and just a little bit of luck.
"They're marking Matt way too tightly..." John muttered beside Ethan.
Ethan nodded grimly. He knew the meaning behind Kevin Keane's three-finger signal: the plan was to deliver the ball onto Matt's head. Every Luton player in the box was moving to create that opening.
But training was one thing; real matches never followed the script.
Adebayor was marking Matt closely now, grappling for position. Even Hill-Waiters had come up to add his weight to the crowd inside the penalty area.
Two Premier League players would soon stand to protect Matt's reputation, but that only made John even more anxious.
"No! If you've picked the players, you have to trust them!" Ethan barked, spinning around to face him. "We've spent the whole week drilling our set-piece routines. Whether it works or not now depends entirely on them!"
Moments like this were a test of belief — in the training, in the players, and in the chemistry built over countless sessions on the practice pitch.
Kevin Keane took a deep breath, steadied himself, and began his run-up.
Striking the ball cleanly with the inside of his right foot, he sent it spinning with heavy topspin, curling beautifully through the air. It wasn't a direct shot at goal — it was a whipped delivery designed to cause chaos inside the box.
Arsenal's keeper, Łukasz Fabiański, immediately sensed the danger and scrambled toward the back post.
At the same time, Matt Schmidt wrestled free from Emmanuel Adebayor's marking, drifting deeper toward the far post.
Silvestre and Matt both leapt!
But Matt Schmidt was sharper, rising highest and meeting the ball with a powerful header back across the face of goal!
"Vardy!!!" shouted Letterkinson from the stands, leaping to his feet.
In the six-yard box, Jamie Vardy had shaken off his marker at the last second, timing his movement perfectly.
The ball dropped toward Vardy's chest — too low to head, too high to volley cleanly. Without hesitating, he cushioned it expertly with his chest, killing the ball's momentum.
Before Fabiański could react, Vardy turned and smashed the ball into the back of the net!
The stadium erupted. The rehearsed set-piece had worked to perfection.