The goal did not just put Frankfurt ahead in the tie. It changed the temperature of the night.
For a few stunned seconds, Old Trafford didn't roar, it inhaled. You could feel United's entire stadium trying to understand how the same kid who had already dragged this tie to extra time had now come out and, within three minutes, ripped the heart out of it again. Lukas peeled away toward the away end, fists clenched, chest heaving, and the Frankfurt pocket behind the goal shook like a living thing. Down on the touchline, Toppmöller didn't sprint in celebration this time. He snapped his head toward the bench, jabbed a finger toward the pitch, and barked something sharp that didn't need lip-reading to translate.
"Now we suffer," came the voice from the commentary booth, half awe, half warning. "Now we suffer intelligently."
