[Oh, it's wide!] the lead commentator gasped, his tone a mix of disbelief and awe. [Altidore buries the chance, but it's off the post—how close was that?!]
[So close for AZ Alkmaar!] the co-commentator sighed. [Altidore had the goal gaping—he'll be kicking himself for that miss. What a counter that was!]
Mihaylov jumped up, shouting at his defense, his face red as he pointed to the gaps they'd left. Douglas and Wisgerhof exchanged a glance, their chests heaving, knowing they'd been let off the hook.
On the sideline, Gertjan Verbeek clapped his hands, urging his team to stay focused, while McClaren shook his head, his arms crossed, aware of how dangerous AZ Alkmaar's counter had been.
Benjamin jogged back, his head down, while Altidore stood for a moment, hands on hips, staring at the post that had denied him.
[That was end-to-end stuff,] the lead commentator said, catching his breath. [AZ Alkmaar showed their pace on the break—Benjamin and Altidore were electric!]
