The rain poured steadily, soaking the pitch and slowing everyone down—but not Sadegh Moharrami. His boots splashed against the turf as he sprinted down the right flank, eyes locked on the winger charging toward him. There was no hesitation, no doubt—just pure instinct.

He timed his slide to perfection, snatching the ball away before springing to his feet and launching a counterattack. His teammates shouted in appreciation, but Sadegh merely nodded and jogged back into position.

Coach Ramin, arms crossed on the sideline, smiled faintly. “He doesn’t say much,” he muttered, “but he always answers when it counts.”