The second half began in silence on the bench. No shouts, no sudden instructions—just the low echo of cleats against the Philips Stadion track as the team fell back into rhythm, as if the game had never been interrupted.
Demien remained seated, hands folded, left leg crossed over right, eyes fixed on the pitch.
Michel leaned in from the side. "No changes?"
"Not yet."
"They're expecting pressure."
"That's why we won't give it to them.
On the field, PSV charged forward as if they had been instructed to resolve everything in five minutes. One midfielder lunged at Alonso, but Xabi remained still, absorbing the pressure before spinning away as if the match had never paused. He passed to Plašil, who let the ball run before rolling it back.
Tempo. Tight. Deliberate.
