The stadium buzzed with expectation as Nicolae Stanciu stood over the ball, twenty-five yards out. The wall was set. The keeper shouted directions. Still, the noise faded into the background for him.

“Want me to take it?” a teammate asked, jogging over.

Stanciu shook his head with a calm smile. “No need,” he replied. “I see the gap.”

He took four slow steps back, eyes locked on the top-right corner. He'd made this shot in training a hundred times—but this was different. This one mattered. Romania were one goal down, and the clock was ticking into stoppage time.

The referee blew his whistle.

Stanciu inhaled deeply, then exhaled as he ran up and struck the ball with precision. It curled beautifully over the wall, dipped late, and nestled into the top corner.

Goal.

The crowd exploded.

He didn’t celebrate wildly—just raised a finger to the sky and turned back toward midfield, eyes steely, focused.

“We’re not done yet,” he muttered to himself.

Because for Nicolae Stanciu, moments like these weren’t about glory. They were about responsibility. About delivering when it counted.