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Under the bright lights of the Emirates mixed zone, the atmosphere was a blend of adrenaline, sweat, and reflection. Reporters gathered with cameras and microphones as players emerged from the tunnel—some with tired eyes, others glowing with victory.
The air buzzed with questions, while fans lingered near the barricades outside, still animated from the rollercoaster of the 5–3 encounter.
First to stop was Arsène Wenger. His face wore that familiar mix of calm and tension.
"We showed spirit," he began, his French accent steady but slightly weary.
"To come from two goals down, away, and equalize—it says a lot about the players. But in matches like this, moments of brilliance make the difference. And unfortunately, today, City had Adriano."
A reporter quickly followed:"Did removing Wilshere open the space for Adriano to operate?"
Wenger nodded, reluctantly.
"Yes. Jack had been doing a difficult job well. We brought on energy, but we gave up control in that area. Adriano exploited that space immediately."
Just meters away, Manuel Pellegrini spoke with quiet satisfaction.
"It was a difficult match, of course. Arsenal pushed us, and at 3–3, it was tense. But I trust in our players to respond. Adriano was brilliant, but this was a team effort. Silva, Hazard, Kane—all contributed."
And then, the man of the hour emerged. Adriano, still in partial kit, media-trained but unmistakably alive with adrenaline. He adjusted his City jacket and approached the cameras, still damp from the post-match cooldown.
The questions came quickly.
"Adriano—another world-class performance. Two goals, an assist, and that celebration in front of the Arsenal fans. Talk us through your night."
Adriano cracked a tired smile, brushing a hand through his curls.
"Tough match, man. Arsenal came at us hard. Credit to them, they made it a war. But this is what I live for—big moments. I saw the gap on that last goal, and I had to go. Hazard found me perfectly."
"And the celebration?"
He smirked a bit wider.
"Sometimes you gotta let the people know. The noise, the pressure—it fuels me. I heard the crowd, I felt the tension... I just wanted to write the ending myself."
Another reporter followed."You've now been directly involved in 12 goals in the last four matches. 8 goals and 4 assists. Do you feel like the best player in the league right now?"
Adriano gave a shrug and a little laugh.
"That's for others to say. I just try to be better every week. Keep working, keep growing. I've got a great team behind me."
***
Outside, the fans were in full voice. City supporters were jubilant, singing Adriano's name as they exited the Emirates. Some clutched banners with his name, one reading "THE KING IN SKY BLUE." A group of teenagers argued about whether his second goal was better than his assist.
"That flick past Chamberlain? Come on, that was straight outta FIFA!""Nah, that header over Szczęsny? That was ice cold. He hung in the air like a superhero, bro!"
Arsenal fans, while disappointed, showed a mix of frustration and grudging admiration.
"Honestly, you can't even hate on that guy," one middle-aged man said to his son. "He tore us up. He's got everything—pace, touch, vision. Reminds me of a young Thierry, but more ruthless."
***
Hours later, long after the crowd had gone and the stadium lights dimmed, Adriano finally made it home. The match replay murmured faintly on the TV in the background, the broadcast voice of Martin Tyler repeating his second goal in slow-motion.
Adriano dropped his bag at the door, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto his couch. A cold bottle of water in one hand, phone in the other. He unlocked it, and right away—her name appeared on the screen.
Kate ❤️"CALLING…"
He answered with a smile.
"Hey honey, done with shooting?"
Her voice came through, buzzing with excitement, even from across the Atlantic.
"Babe! You were absolutely amazing! I saw your second goal—I screamed so loud the entire makeup department heard me. That header was crazy! I didn't know you could also head it like that!"
He chuckled, leaning back into the cushions.
"You saw it live?"
"Of course I did! I ran back from the set, still in my costume, and caught the last twenty minutes. I had my fingers crossed after you guys went 3–3. And then boom—you showed up again."
Adriano smiled, his voice softening.
"It felt good. Like, I couldn't miss tonight."
"You didn't," she laughed. "I was watching with some of the stunt crew—they kept asking if we could get you cast in the next Avengers film. Said we needed someone to take on Thor."
Adriano laughed at that, shaking his head.
"Only if I get to be the one to save Scarlet Witch."
"Mmm, tempting. Speaking of which," she added with a note of excitement, "I've got news."
"Yeah?"
"The whole production is coming to London next month. We're doing a location shoot near Canary Wharf. I'll be there for at least two weeks."
His eyes lit up. "For real? You'll be here?"
"Yep. The hotel's already booked. I'll have some long days, but evenings? I'm all yours."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice lowered. "I miss you, Kate. I know we both signed up for this—our careers, the distance. But today, when I scored that last one… all I wanted was to see was you there."
There was a pause, the kind that says everything without words.
"I miss you too Adri," she whispered. "We'll be meeting soon. And I can't wait to see you in person again and tell you all about what's happening here."
Adriano closed his eyes, just listening to her voice.
"Also," she added teasingly, "I'm kind of a big deal now. People love me. This one girl came up today with a sketch of me as Scarlet Witch, and I nearly cried. It's weird, right? Being recognized?"
"Not weird," he replied, smiling. "You deserve all of it. You've always been magical."
"You're such a sap," she giggled.
"Only for you." He laughed.
They talked for another hour—about her filming schedule, his training, the madness of today's match, and what kind of food they'd order when she landed. Adriano promised to take her to a quiet spot outside the city, somewhere with a view. She promised to bring him some Avengers merch and sneak him onto set if she could.
Finally, the call ended. He held the phone to his chest for a moment longer before standing, stretching, and finally turning off the TV.
As he walked toward the bedroom, he glanced once more at the framed photo on the wall—him in City blue, Kate beside him in sunglasses and a hoodie, half-hiding from fans, both smiling like they had nothing else to care about in the world.
He whispered to himself, "Next month can't come soon enough."
And with that, Adriano's night came to a close—not just as a football hero, but as a young man quietly waiting for the one who made it all feel real.
***
After a few days rest , the team prepared for their next clash against Chelsea at home.
Under the floodlights of the Etihad Stadium, a cool breeze rolled across the pitch as Manchester City prepared for a high-stakes encounter against José Mourinho's Chelsea.
The air was thick with anticipation—not the type that crackled with excitement, but the heavier kind that hung over games with too much at stake. City, fresh off their 5–3 thriller against Arsenal, were high on adrenaline but under no illusions. This would be different.
Martin Tyler's voice broke through the hum of pre-match atmosphere, precise as ever."Good evening from Manchester. It's the blue of City against the blue of Chelsea. A clash of philosophies, of managers, and of tactical willpower. This one promises to be tight."
His co-commentator, Alan Smith, followed up with a more clinical take."There's no question about it, Martin. Chelsea under Mourinho are designed for games like this. They'll sit in, wait, and then hit you when your guard drops. City need patience and precision tonight."
Before the match, Mourinho declared to the press, " Adriano and Manchester City might be good, but their winning streak ends tonight. I'll make sure they don't score any goal.
I like the kid, he has talent. But he is too soft for Premier League. And we play with more agyression thanthe other teams. "
His remarks were passed to Adriano by a reporter. He just shrugged and replied, " Mourinho is someone I respect, not to mention we are both from Porto.
But I'll just say this, I don't play just to score, I play to win. And I have teammates who I can rely on to score if I can't. He forgets, I started as a central midfielder. "
After the pre match formalities and the handshakes were done, both teams took their positions.
The starting whistle blew, and right from the beginning, it became evident that the flowing, expansive football that had undone Arsenal days earlier would not have the same effect here.
Chelsea settled into a deep, compact block from minute one. Mourinho's tactics were clear—compress the middle, force City wide, and limit the influence of Adriano.
Adriano, who had terrorized Arsenal with his movement and flair, now found himself caged. Every time he dropped into the half-spaces to receive a pass, Mikel and Matic closed him down. If he drifted wide, Ivanovic or Azpilicueta tracked him tightly. No space, no breath.
City's midfield duo of Silva, and De Bruyne worked in tight triangles, attempting to shift Chelsea's shape. Hazard drifted inward from the left, Salah mirrored him from the right, trying to overload the central lanes. But every movement met resistance. Gary Cahill and John Terry were stoic at the heart of Chelsea's defence—well-positioned, alert, uncompromising.
"Chelsea have created a net around Adriano," noted Martin Tyler. "Wherever he goes, there's a trap waiting."
Alan Smith nodded. "This is vintage Mourinho. Every duel is fought like a final. They're not trying to win the ball cleanly every time—they're just making sure City don't settle."
By the 15th minute, City had controlled over 65% of possession—but had done little with it. Their first real glimpse of goal came in the 18th, when De Bruyne managed to slip a pass between the lines. Adriano finally got a touch in space, turned Terry, and lashed a shot low and hard. Courtois read it all the way, diving to his right and pushing the ball away with strong wrists.
"First real chance for the home side," said Martin Tyler, his voice rising slightly. "Adriano's quick turn gave him half a yard. But you don't beat Courtois that easily."
The crowd responded, encouraged. For a few moments, City raised the tempo. Passes zipped faster, overlaps came more frequently.
Hummels pushed forward to combine with Salah. A series of intricate passes found Silva on the edge of the area. His quick backheel to Adriano opened a window, and he didn't hesitate—curling a shot toward the far post.
"Close!" exclaimed Tyler. "That brushed the side netting on its way out. Just a whisker away."
But Chelsea didn't panic. They absorbed the pressure like a sponge, allowing City to punch themselves into fatigue. By the half-hour mark, the tempo slowed. Passes went sideways again. The Etihad crowd, so vibrant in the Arsenal match, had dulled to an anxious murmur.
"They've quieted the stadium too," Alan Smith pointed out. "This is what Mourinho wants. Keep the crowd out of it. Make the game boring if you have to."
Chelsea's forays forward were rare but purposeful. In the 33rd minute, Oscar took advantage of a rare lapse in midfield positioning. He picked up the ball just past halfway, skipped past Silva with a drop of the shoulder, and drove at City's backline.
Kompany stepped up, forcing him wide, but Oscar still managed to unleash a dipping effort from 25 yards. Joe Hart tracked it all the way, parrying it over the bar.
"That's the danger Chelsea pose," Martin said. "They don't need many chances—they just need the right players in the right moment."
City continued to probe. Silva found pockets. De Bruyne kept trying to break lines. In the 41st minute, he took matters into his own hands—dribbling past Ramires and letting fly from distance. The ball swerved late, forcing Courtois into a full-stretch dive to tip it around the post.
"Oooh, that's a big save!" Tyler called out. "De Bruyne hit that with venom."
The resulting corner was delivered sharply to the near post, where Kompany timed his leap. His glancing header looked promising, but Branislav Ivanovic threw himself in front of the ball to block it with his chest, drawing roars of appreciation from the Chelsea away fans.
"Bodies on the line," Alan said. "This is not pretty, but it's effective."
As the halftime whistle approached, frustration started to seep into the City ranks. The players glanced at each other after misplaced passes. Pellegrini barked instructions from the sideline, gesturing for quicker transitions. Adriano shook his head after another heavy challenge went unpunished.
And then, just before the whistle, a flicker of something. A long diagonal from Silva found Hazard in space on the left. Hazard took it down expertly, skipped inside Ivanovic, and squared for Salah. The Egyptian took one touch to control and another to shoot—but Terry slid in with a last-ditch block.
"No way through," said Martin Tyler, just as the referee's whistle pierced the night.
Halftime.
City trudged toward the tunnel, heads slightly bowed, visibly annoyed at the inability to impose themselves. Chelsea's players were more measured. No smiles, but satisfied expressions. They had executed their first-half blueprint perfectly.
"The tactical chess match has gone towards Mourinho so far," Alan Smith observed. "He's limited City's best weapons. Now we see what Pellegrini does to open the game up."
Inside the stadium, fans murmured their analysis. Some called for more urgency, others suggested changes—"Get Fernandinho on, we need more bite!" shouted one. "Too slow through the middle," said another. In the away corner, Chelsea supporters were jubilant.
They sang the Mourinho anthem with full lungs, taunting City's lack of chances:
🎵 "Jose Mourinho, he's done it again!" 🎵
Up in the commentary booth, Martin Tyler looked over the live stats being updated on his monitor."Just two shots on target for City in that first half. That tells you everything. They've had more of the ball, but Chelsea have had more of the control."
Alan added, "City have to stretch them now. Play wider. Force the full-backs to move. Right now, Chelsea are just too comfortable in that low block."
As the players re-emerged from the tunnel, the tension returned. Fans rose to their feet, flags waving, the murmurs turning into hopeful chants.
Something had to give.
And the second half was about to begin.
***
The second half began beneath the steady hum of anticipation at the Etihad Stadium. There were no substitutions from either side, but the shift in tone was noticeable. The air felt thicker, the tension heavier.
Manchester City came out determined, keeping the ball with greater urgency. They pushed forward, probing, testing. But José Mourinho's Chelsea were unmoved, unshaken—executing their compact shape with the precision of a side that knew exactly what it wanted.
Chelsea's block held firm in their familiar 4-2-3-1, the deep line anchored by the experienced duo of Gary Cahill and John Terry. In front of them, Mikel and Matic screened space with discipline, rarely venturing more than a few yards ahead of their center-backs.
Whenever David Silva tried to drift inside or Hazard made his characteristic inverted runs, one of the holding midfielders would be there, guiding them wide or nicking the ball cleanly.
"You can see what Mourinho's gone for here," Alan Smith observed as the match settled into its second phase. "Two solid banks of four, no daylight between them. It's suffocating City in the middle."
Martin Tyler added, "They're being forced wide again and again. But you wonder—how long can Chelsea hold out under this kind of pressure?"
In the 52nd minute, Eden Hazard finally found a sliver of daylight. Receiving the ball on the left, he dipped past Ivanović and drew a clumsy foul just outside the area. It was a promising set-piece opportunity.
Silva stood over it, his left foot poised. The delivery was curling, teasing, heading toward the penalty spot. But Cahill read it superbly—he attacked it with conviction and nodded it clear, relieving the pressure for the Blues.
City's rhythm stuttered. Chelsea sensed the moment, and their response was sharp. Oscar and Willian began pushing higher up the pitch, transforming their roles from auxiliary midfielders to wide outlets. Chelsea's possession began to stretch City's lines, and in the 58th minute, it nearly paid off.
Willian, with space ahead of him, accelerated down the right and whipped in a clever ball to Diego Costa. The Spanish striker, under the close eye of Kompany, somehow twisted free on the edge of the box.
He struck quickly, instinctively, turning on the half-volley. The ball screamed toward the far post, beat Joe Hart's outstretched gloves—but thundered off the upright and ricocheted wide.
A collective gasp rippled through the stadium.
"So close for Chelsea!" Martin Tyler exclaimed, his voice rising with the drama. "Diego Costa inches away from breaking the deadlock!"
Alan Smith leaned in. "And that's the warning shot. City need to be very careful committing too many bodies forward. Chelsea have the quality to punish you in transition, even with one touch."
Pellegrini stood on the edge of his technical area, arms crossed, expression taut. He knew something had to change.
In the 68th minute, he made his move. Silva, who had offered steel but lacked the tempo to outplay Chelsea's block, was withdrawn for Casemiro. It was a sign of intent—a bid to regain control of the midfield and feed the front line with more fluid passing.
Kevin De Bruyne, meanwhile, had been on the fringes for most of the game. Frustrated, often dispossessed, he was the second to be sacrificed. Yaya Touré came on in his place, bringing a different kind of presence—one more capable of breaking through brute force than intricate passing.
The shift brought life, if not goals. For the first time in the match, City began to force Chelsea backward. The tempo rose. Hazard came to life, receiving quicker passes from Casemiro, and in the 71st minute, he danced past Mikel, drove at Cahill, and curled a low shot toward the far corner.
Courtois had to stretch fully to his right, palming it behind for a corner.
The Etihad roared. City fans, until then somewhat subdued, sensed blood.
Another wave followed in the 74th minute. This time, it was Toure threading the eye of a needle—a splitting diagonal pass that freed Salah on the right. The Egyptian winger shifted it past Filipe Luís with a burst of pace and looked up. He chose power, unleashing a rising shot toward the roof of the net. It swerved late but dipped just over the crossbar.
"City turning the screw now," Martin Tyler commented. "But still… no breakthrough."
Alan Smith added, "They've wrestled control back here, but it's fragile. They've opened up a bit at the back—and Chelsea only need a moment."
And that moment came, like a thunderclap, just when City appeared to be on the brink of turning the tide. Chelsea's goal came against the run of play—but in Mourinho's world, it was by design.
In the 77th minute, a City attack broke down with a loose pass from Touré in midfield. Willian was quickest to pounce, sliding the ball out to Oscar on the right wing. The Brazilian paused for a second, surveyed the scene, then bent a looping ball into the area with his right foot.
It was vintage. The kind of ball that begged for a striker to attack.
Didier Drogba, the Ivorian legend brought on minutes earlier, answered the call. He ghosted into the near post, catching Kompany flat-footed, and rose with power. His header was ruthless—angled across goal, over Hart, and into the top corner.
Gooooaaalllll! Drogba makes it 1-0 for Chelsea!
"GOAL! Didier Drogba! He rolls back the years!" Martin Tyler bellowed, his voice nearly cracking.
Alan Smith was nearly out of his seat. "One chance, one goal! He's been doing it for over a decade. The delivery was brilliant, but that header—vintage Drogba!"
As Drogba wheeled away in celebration, the away end erupted. Blue shirts leapt into the air, fists pumping, scarves spinning above heads. The striker dropped to one knee at the corner flag, pointing to the Chelsea badge, then raising both arms to the sky as his teammates swarmed him.
The Etihad fell into an eerie silence. The home fans were stunned. All the pressing, the intricate passing, the tactical reshuffling—undone by a single, precise moment from one of the game's great poachers.
On the sideline, Mourinho stood motionless for a second, then turned calmly to his bench. No fist pump. No emotion. Just a small nod. Mission accomplished, at least for now.
"City fans are stunned," Martin Tyler observed, voice more solemn now. "They've dominated the second half, but just one lapse, and it's all undone."
Alan Smith agreed. "You can't afford to blink when players like Drogba are on the pitch. That's the difference—Chelsea don't need volume, they need precision."
Back on the field, Pellegrini barked instructions, waving his arms, urging more urgency. But the momentum had cracked. The sting was taken out of the match. Chelsea dropped deeper, satisfied. Matic and Mikel resumed their post, protecting their penalty box like sentries. Cahill and Terry, now even tighter, began clearing every ball without hesitation.
As the match entered its final phase, Manchester City intensified their offensive efforts. Manager Manuel Pellegrini adjusted the team's formation, pushing Adriano further up the pitch to spearhead the attack.
Hazard and Salah were instructed to maintain width, stretching Chelsea's defense horizontally. Yaya Touré advanced into more attacking positions, aiming to exploit any spaces between Chelsea's midfield and defensive lines.
In the 82nd minute, a swift combination between Salah and Adriano sliced through Chelsea's defensive setup. Salah's incisive pass found Adriano inside the box, but Courtois, showcasing his reflexes, rushed out to smother the shot, denying City the equalizer.
Three minutes later, Hazard showcased his dribbling prowess, maneuvering past Azpilicueta on the left flank. He delivered a precise cross to the far post, where Salah, arriving late, met the ball. However, his timing was slightly off, and the header sailed over the bar. The collective groan from the City fans echoed the missed opportunity.
As the clock approached the 89th minute, the atmosphere in the Etihad Stadium was tense. Then, a moment of brilliance unfolded.
Adriano collected the ball just past midfield, immediately setting his sights on goal. John Terry stepped forward to challenge, but Adriano executed a sharp turn, letting the ball roll past and accelerating away, leaving Terry behind as rushed forward.
Gary Cahill moved to intercept, but Adriano, with audacious flair, performed a rainbow flick, lifting the ball over Cahill and collecting it seamlessly on the other side.
The fans in the stadium stood up in anticipation. They sensed something was coming.
Filipe Luís stood as the final obstacle. Adriano feinted, cutting inside from right to evade the sliding challenge, and advanced towards goal.
Courtois charged out, attempting to narrow the angle. Instead of shooting, Adriano spotted Salah sprinting into position and delivered a delicate chip across the box. Salah met the ball with precision, slotting it into the open net without mistake.
Gooooaaalllll! Manchester City equalizes right at the end ! Salah makes it 1-1.
Martin Tyler's voice resonated:
"GOAL FOR CITY! Salah finishes it! And Adriano—what can you say? That's outrageous!"
Alan Smith, in awe, added:
"He beat three men and set that up. You won't see many better assists this season."
The Etihad Stadium was electrified. Adriano sprinted towards the corner flag, leaping into the embrace of jubilant fans. Salah followed, arms raised, pointing to Adriano as teammates joined the celebration.
Martin Tyler continued:
"One-one! And they're not done yet!"
In the remaining minutes, Chelsea fortified their defense, aiming to preserve the draw. City, energized by the equalizer, pressed forward, seeking a winner. However, Chelsea's disciplined defense held firm. The final whistle confirmed a 1–1 draw.
Martin Tyler concluded:
"It ends as a draw. But what a finish. Adriano may not have scored — but he rescued this game with a moment of genius."
Alan Smith nodded in agreement:
"That's what separates stars from world-class players. He created something out of nothing."
As players exited the pitch, the Etihad faithful stood in applause. While not a victory, the dramatic equalizer and Adriano's brilliance provided a memorable conclusion to the match.
***
As the final whistle blew and the players made their way off the pitch, the stadium buzzed with chatter and energy. Though the scoreboard read 1–1, the match had felt like anything but a stalemate.
The crowd's roar after Salah's equalizer still lingered in the night air, like thunder echoing through the stands. Fans were animated, gesturing, replaying Adriano's dazzling assist in mid-air with their hands.
Down on the touchline, the Sky Sports cameras cut to the tunnel area where Geoff Shreeves stood ready with his microphone. The first to emerge from the dressing room was Eden Hazard, still in full kit, sweat beading on his brow.
Geoff Shreeves: "Eden, thanks for your time. A dramatic end to a very tight game. Your thoughts?"
Hazard: (catching his breath) "It was a tough match. We knew what to expect from Chelsea—they're organized, disciplined, and physical. We had to work for every inch. I think we dominated possession, but sometimes, it takes a moment of magic. Thankfully, Adriano provided that."
Shreeves: "You've played with some top players, but what did you make of his run and that assist?"
Hazard: (grinning) "Honestly? I shouted for him to shoot. But what he did was just... mad. I've seen tricks in training, but in a game, under pressure like that? It's special. He's not just playing football — he's performing."
Next up was Chelsea's captain, John Terry, clearly disappointed but trying to maintain composure.
Shreeves: "John, a solid display for most of the match. Does that late goal feel like two points dropped?"
Terry: "Yeah, absolutely. We had control. One lapse in concentration, one genius move, and it's 1–1. Credit to them, especially Adriano — we thought we had him contained.
But sometimes, even when you plan everything, a player like that can undo it in a second."
Shortly afterward, Adriano emerged for his interview. He had a towel draped over his shoulder, his hair slightly wet, boots still muddied. The stadium lights reflected in his eyes, but he looked calm, grounded.
Shreeves: "Adriano, what a moment near the end. Take us through that assist — what was going through your mind?"
Adriano: (smiling humbly) "I was just thinking about how to break the line. Terry stepped up, and I thought, 'go for it.' I saw Cahill coming, and it was instinct to go over him. Once I saw Salah, I knew he'd be there — we've trained that move. I just had to give him the ball."
Shreeves: "Everyone's talking about that rainbow flick. That's not something you see often in this kind of match. But you seem to perform these on a daily basis?"
Adriano: "I do it always in training, yeah. But this one mattered. We were one-nil down. You don't always get space against Chelsea, so I had to take my chance."
Shreeves: "Does this feel like a win, given how it unfolded?"
Adriano: "We wanted three points. But the fight we showed, the atmosphere, the way we kept going — it's huge. Games like this build character."
As he walked off, the home crowd near the tunnel clapped and whistled, chanting his name. A few children held up homemade signs: "Adriano – Magic Man" and "The King of Manchester."
As the post-match coverage wound down, Martin Tyler and Alan Smith sat back in their seats overlooking the now-empty pitch, lit under the stadium lights.
Martin Tyler: "We've seen many games between these two heavyweights. This one will be remembered not for the result, but for a single moment."
Alan Smith: "Adriano. When the moment came, he didn't just act — he elevated the game. That's the difference between being a top player, and being something truly generational."
Martin Tyler: "It's easy to forget he's still only 18. But he plays like a man with ten years of League experience. The fans will go home tonight feeling like they saw something special."
Alan Smith: "And they sure did."
***
Outside the Etihad, the cold Manchester night was warmed by the chatter of fans pouring out of the stands and into the streets. Scarves swung from necks, and blue shirts dotted every corner.
A Sky Sports fan correspondent approached a group of supporters near the tram stop.
Fan 1 (in a blue City hoodie): "That assist from Adriano? I was right behind the goal. I swear, I dropped my phone. I've never seen anything like that. I was shouting for him to shoot — then he just... flicks it over Cahill like he's playing FIFA."
Fan 2 (wearing a tour scarf): "You could feel it coming. He was bottled up most of the game, but you knew, you just knew, if he got a yard, something would happen."
Fan 3 (young lad, 12 or 13): "I want to be like Adriano when I grow up. I recorded the whole goal. I'm gonna watch it 50 times before school tomorrow."
Nearby, a group of Chelsea fans waited quietly for the shuttle, a bit quieter but still spirited.
Chelsea Fan (middle-aged man in a long coat): "We had them. We did everything right for 89 minutes. Then the boy pulls a rabbit out the hat. Look, I'm gutted, but you can't even be mad. That was class."
Another Chelsea Fan: "It's why we watch, innit? For those moments. That assist... it's going viral, for sure."
***
Current Stats of Adriano
Matches: 5
Goals: 8
Assists: 5
Current top scorer of Premier League and top Assists list