What was it?
The defensive sealant finally gave way under industrial pressure. Thirty-four shots rained down on the penalty area, probing every overlapping joint and fraying edge of a desperate block. Leandro Trossard simply hovered in the debris, sweeping up second phases with grim, bureaucratic efficiency.
The statistics paint a brutal picture of territorial monopoly. The Europeans registered twenty-two attempts inside the box, restricting their opponents to a microscopic 0.24 expected goals. Marko Stamenic picked up a caution immediately after the interval, effectively stripping his midfield of any remaining friction.
Forced to retreat, the Kiwis sank deep into their own penalty area. Kevin De Bruyne gleefully accepted the vacated real estate, drilling a low finish from the edge of the box to make it three.
Then came a fleeting, romantic illusion. Thibaut Courtois flapped wildly at a late corner, allowing Elijah Just to volley home. The stadium roared, briefly intoxicated by the idea that raw, unvarnished graft could defy technical superiority.
The romance lasted exactly two minutes. Romelu Lukaku stepped off the bench, bullied his way through the fractured defensive line, and headed in a fourth. Alexis Saelemaekers added a fifth shortly after. Honest sweat is a beautiful thing, but it shatters against clinical, heavily armed mechanics.
The statistics paint a brutal picture of territorial monopoly. The Europeans registered twenty-two attempts inside the box, restricting their opponents to a microscopic 0.24 expected goals. Marko Stamenic picked up a caution immediately after the interval, effectively stripping his midfield of any remaining friction.
Forced to retreat, the Kiwis sank deep into their own penalty area. Kevin De Bruyne gleefully accepted the vacated real estate, drilling a low finish from the edge of the box to make it three.
Then came a fleeting, romantic illusion. Thibaut Courtois flapped wildly at a late corner, allowing Elijah Just to volley home. The stadium roared, briefly intoxicated by the idea that raw, unvarnished graft could defy technical superiority.
The romance lasted exactly two minutes. Romelu Lukaku stepped off the bench, bullied his way through the fractured defensive line, and headed in a fourth. Alexis Saelemaekers added a fifth shortly after. Honest sweat is a beautiful thing, but it shatters against clinical, heavily armed mechanics.