The moment Tariq Lamptey touched the ball, the crowd held its breath. With a subtle flick and sudden burst of speed, he was past the first defender, then the second. His cleats skimmed the grass like fire through dry leaves.

“Overlap!” he shouted, already anticipating the one-two as he darted up the wing.

His teammate obliged, but the pass came in short. Tariq adjusted instantly, nudging the ball forward with the outside of his boot and regaining control before the defenders could react.

On the sideline, the coach could only smile. “He’s a spark plug, that one,” he muttered.

Tariq glanced up just in time to thread a low cross into the box. It was clinical, dangerous, and brimming with intent—just like him.