As the game unfolded, Dawson, who was in his seat a moment earlier, now stood with his hands in his coat pockets, rain tapping softly against the fabric while his eyes fixed on the pattern unfolding in front of him.
Behind him, Nolan shifted from one foot to the other.
"How are we getting pounded like this?" Nolan muttered for the third time in as many minutes.
"It's almost like they're trying to walk it in."
Dawson didn't answer.
He simply nodded once, slow and thoughtful, as if agreeing with something Nolan hadn't actually said.
A moment later, his gaze drifted to the right wing, where Darikwa had timed his overlap well and now received the ball in stride.
He had started off strong and sharp, but the ball still felt a bit out of reach.
Still, it seemed a bit of luck was on the side because in the next second, the ball began slowing and when he got there, Darikwa didn't think too much of what to do and just shipped the ball into the box without ask.
