Chapter 395: Not Again

The delivery dropped toward Haaland, who climbed above Luke Shaw and cushioned a header down into Doku’s path. Doku moved it inside toward Foden, but Mazraoui read it sharply, stepping in front of the pass and momentarily giving United a chance to escape the early pressure.

His first thought was Bruno Fernandes, but before the ball could reach the United captain, Doku snapped back into the challenge, stole possession almost immediately, and fed Foden again, this time with City already flooding bodies around the edge of the box.

Foden turned in one movement and spotted Haaland peeling into the left channel. The pass arrived perfectly, slipped between De Ligt and Yoro, and Haaland attacked it first time with his left foot, smashing the ball across the face of goal with such violence that Bayındır instinctively threw out a hand before pulling it back at the last instant.

The shot was travelling wide, cutting viciously through the six-yard area rather than heading directly toward goal, and the United goalkeeper seemed to decide in the blink of an eye that touching it could only create more danger.

For half a second, United thought they had survived.

Patrick Dorgu and Luke Shaw both relaxed at the far post, convinced Haaland’s mis-hit strike was flashing harmlessly across the area and away from danger.

Then the noise changed. The City supporters behind the goal suddenly rose, United voices shouted warnings in panic, and from the blind side came Lukas, arriving at the back post with the goal gaping in front of him.

"TAP IN FOR BRAAANDTTT..."

It should have been the perfect start.

15 seconds gone.

An open goal.

Lukas stretched his right foot toward the ball, but Haaland’s shot arrived with far more pace and spin than he expected. Instead of cushioning it into the net, he caught it awkwardly off his shin, the contact sending the ball bouncing wide beyond the post and behind for a goal kick.

"OH HE’S MISSED IT!"

The Etihad gasped as one.

Lukas stopped dead, both hands flying to his head as he stared at the ball rolling behind the goal.

Peter Drury’s voice cracked through the shock. "Oh, what a miss! What an extraordinary chance inside the opening seconds of the Manchester derby. It wasn’t a pass from Haaland, it was a shot dragged across the face of goal, but Lukas Brandt was alive to it, he arrived completely unmarked, and he simply couldn’t turn it home."

Gary Neville exhaled sharply. "That’s the kind of chance you dream of before a derby. He does brilliantly to keep running when everyone else switches off, but the ball comes at him so quickly. He misjudges the contact, catches it on the shin, and United get away with one immediately."

On the touchline, Guardiola put both hands on top of his head, his whole body twisting in disbelief before he quickly began clapping. He could not hide the frustration of the miss, but he knew exactly what he had seen: hunger, timing, instinct, and a player arriving where goalscorers were supposed to arrive.

Lukas lowered his hands slowly, jaw tight as he jogged away from the far post. Bayındır collected another ball and placed it for the goal kick while United’s defenders shouted at one another, furious that a chance that clear had appeared almost straight from kickoff.

Lukas glanced once toward the grass, then slapped the side of his own head lightly and whispered to himself as he retreated back toward the halfway line.

"This is not happening again."

Then he lifted his eyes, reset his position on the right flank, and waited for the restart.

For the first 10 minutes after that early miss, Lukas almost seemed to disappear from the match by choice.

Not completely. He still received the ball. He still held his position wide on the right, stretching United’s back line and forcing Patrick Dorgu to remain honest rather than tucking inside. But whenever possession came to him, he did not try to force anything.

He took his first touch carefully, lifted his head, measured the distance between himself and Dorgu, then rolled the ball back to Khusanov or inside toward Rodri and Bernardo. On one occasion, he even clipped a diagonal pass all the way toward Doku on the opposite side, immediately jogging a few steps forward afterward as though he had never intended to attack Dorgu at all.

Dorgu noticed it too.

The United wing-back stayed tight, shoulders low, always close enough to prevent Lukas from turning freely but not reckless enough to dive in. Every time Lukas shaped as if he might finally go at him, Dorgu adjusted his feet, waited for the trick, and found instead that the City winger simply passed the ball away.

It looked cautious from the outside, perhaps even hesitant, but Lukas was not avoiding the duel because he feared it. He was studying him. The angle of Dorgu’s hips, the way he leaned when he expected the ball to be pushed down the line, the split-second movement of his hand whenever he wanted to feel for contact.

Gary Neville picked up on it from the commentary gantry.

"Dorgu has done well so far. He hasn’t jumped in, hasn’t given Brandt the chance to make it a 1v1 foot race. He’s staying patient."

Peter Drury replied almost immediately.

"And Brandt, perhaps, is being patient too. There is a sense that he is waiting for the right moment to ask the first proper question."

That moment arrived in the twelfth minute.

City had possession again through Rodri, who stood just ahead of the centre circle with United’s midfield shifting across to block the central lanes. Bruno Fernandes pressed from one side, Ugarte hovered nearby, and for a brief second it looked as though Rodri would simply recycle the ball back to Rúben Dias. Instead, he opened his body and clipped a beautiful pass out toward the right touchline, dropping it over United’s midfield and toward Lukas, who had remained glued to the white line.

Dorgu read the flight early.

He closed quickly, expecting Lukas to let the ball drop and try to nudge it forward with his first touch. His body was already moving to block the line, one shoulder angled toward the pitch, one foot ready to intercept the push down the outside. But Lukas did not let the ball fall to his foot. He watched it drop, adjusted his balance at the last possible moment, then cushioned it upward with his shoulder, popping it over Dorgu’s head as smoothly as if he had meant to control it that way from the beginning.

The stadium reacted before the ball even landed.

Dorgu spun sharply on the touchline and reached back, trying to grab a piece of Lukas’ shirt before the City winger could escape. Lukas shrugged through the contact, using his body to shield the defender away, then caught the dropping ball on his chest while still moving forward. Before Dorgu could recover, Lukas let it fall to his thigh and knocked it into open grass, accelerating past him as the Etihad rose around the right flank.

Peter Drury’s voice lifted with the crowd.

"There it is! The first time he asks Dorgu to turn, and suddenly Manchester City are away!"