The locker room buzzed with anticipation before kickoff. Roman Yaremchuk stood near the tactics board, rolling his shoulders, his eyes focused like a man with unfinished business.

A younger teammate approached, half-joking. “Nervous, Roman?”

He smirked. “Nervous is when you haven’t trained. I’m just hungry.”

Minutes later, under the stadium lights, Roman ghosted between defenders, chesting down a pass with surgical precision before rifling it into the top corner. The roar of the crowd said it all.

“Goal-scorers’ instinct,” the commentator beamed. “Yaremchuk didn’t even need to look.”