The roar of the crowd swelled as the ball spun across the wet turf, skipping past two defenders before finding its way to Xherdan Shaqiri’s boots.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t need to.

In a single, fluid motion, he cut inside, shifted the ball to his left, and let it fly.

The strike curled like a whisper of defiance—unstoppable, untouchable—nestling into the top corner.

As the stadium exploded around him, Shaqiri simply smiled.

He’d done it before. He’d do it again.

And every time, it would feel just as good.