The goal clearly rattled the Norwegian squad.
Passes started going astray, and the tempo grew sloppy. Realizing the team was losing its grip on the game, Theodore began dropping deeper, picking up the ball from the center-backs to dictate the play himself.
Romania noticed the shift immediately and swarmed him.
In the 39th minute, Theodore received a pass near the halfway line, only to find Keșerü and Grozav bearing down on him from behind.
Catching their movement in his peripheral vision, Theodore planted his left foot on the ball and executed a lightning-fast drag-back spin.
Because both Keșerü and Grozav were attack-minded players lacking defensive discipline, Theodore's risky roulette completely dismantled them, leaving both men grasping at thin air!
"Magnificent turn from Bjorn," Tyler praised. "He leaves two men for dead with a single touch. He's already running this midfield."
Before the Romanian defense could react to the broken press, Theodore threaded a perfect ball out to Ødegaard on the left flank.
The crowd roared as Ødegaard driving hard down the wing.
He beat Chipciu for pace, but before he could cut inside, Stanciu and Anton aggressively stepped up to close him down.
Left with no other option, Ødegaard whipped a first-time cross into the box.
Near the penalty spot, Haaland was already wrestling with his marker, preparing to launch himself at the ball.
But before the big striker could even leave his feet, a white shirt came flying through the air.
It was Theodore... again.
After releasing the pass to Ødegaard, he had sprinted seventy yards straight into the heart of the Romanian penalty area.
This time, he wasn't unmarked. The veteran center-back Săpunaru was draped all over him.
But it didn't matter.
With the elite heading ability of Jurgen Klinsmann coursing through him, Theodore was an absolute menace in the air!
He overpowered Săpunaru with terrifying ease, hanging in the sky before snapping his head violently toward the ball.
BANG.
Theodore beat Săpunaru to the ball, unleashing a thunderous header on goal.
Although the veteran Romanian defender threw everything he had into the aerial challenge, the sheer force of their collision in mid-air completely destroyed his balance.
Săpunaru tumbled toward the turf, forced to watch helplessly as the ball rocketed past him. Equally powerless was the Romanian goalkeeper, Ciprian Tătărușanu.
He stood frozen on his line, completely stunned by the sheer velocity of Theodore's header.
"Two-one to Norway!" Martin Tyler's voice boomed through the broadcast. "Theodore Bjorn with his second bullet header of the night! Romania's aerial defense has been utterly abysmal, and the young Aston Villa star is punishing them for it."
Tyler paused to let the roar of the stadium bleed through the audio feed before continuing. "We saw glimpses of this aerial dominance during the FA Cup Final, but tonight he has been unplayable in the air. If he carries this form into the new Premier League season, he's going to be a nightmare for defenses."
Inside Ullevaal Stadium, the stands had erupted into absolute bedlam.
Tens of thousands of Norwegian fans were hysterically screaming Theodore's name, the noise rolling over the pitch in waves.
Down on the grass, the Norwegian squad swarmed him, burying him in a massive pile-up by the corner flag.
For the visiting Romanians, panic began to set in.
Conceding a goal this late in the half was psychologically devastating.
By the time the referee finally managed to clear the celebrations and restart the match, the clock had already ticked past the forty-fourth minute.
With only a minute of regulation time and a handful of stoppage minutes remaining in the half, Romania desperately needed to steady the ship.
Instead, they completely lost their heads.
Their attackers ran around like headless chickens, abandoning their tactical shape and forcing passes that were easily intercepted.
Even with the referee generously awarding five minutes of stoppage time, Romania failed to string together a single coherent attack.
Tweet! Tweet! Tweeeet!
The whistle blew, signaling the end of the first half.
Norway walked down the tunnel leading 2-1.
...
Inside the home dressing room, Lars Lagerbäck was visibly satisfied. Despite Haaland squandering two golden opportunities, they were still in the lead, and right now, that was all that mattered.
The manager didn't bother making any sweeping tactical changes, simply pacing the room and reminding his players to keep their heads down, stay disciplined, and avoid stupid injuries.
After that, he let them rest.
Haaland grabbed a water bottle and immediately sidled up to Theodore's bench.
"Theo, seriously, how the hell did you train your heading?" Haaland asked, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity. "I remember your aerial game being pretty average before."
"It's actually really simple," Theodore replied, keeping his face entirely deadpan. "I just focused on being better at heading."
Haaland stared at him. "No shit, mate. I know you focused on it. I'm asking how you focused on it."
Theodore smirked, tossing his towel into his locker. "Don't worry about it right now. When we have some downtime at the hotel, I'll personally run you through the drills."
"Brilliant. It's a deal," Haaland beamed, satisfied with the promise.
...
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the visitors' locker room was toxic.
Romania's head coach, Cosmin Contra, was frantically scribbling on a whiteboard, his original game plan completely shredded by Theodore's aerial dominance.
"Anton!" Contra barked, pointing a furious finger at his defensive midfielder. "You have one job in the second half. Shut down their number sixteen. I don't care how you do it, but do not let him get a free jump in our box again. The kid is an absolute monster in the air."
Paul Anton nodded grimly, adjusting his shin pads. "Don't worry, Boss. Leave him to me. I'll make sure he doesn't get off the ground."
...
Fifteen minutes later, the teams re-emerged from the tunnel, and the second half officially kicked off.
Trailing by a goal, Romania immediately went on the offensive.
Nicolae Stanciu received a quick lay-off from Pușcaș and fired the ball out wide to Grozav on the right wing.
Instead of whipping a cross in, the number 10 tried to cut inside and drive at the box.
However, the Norwegian midfield tracked back with terrifying speed.
Ole Selnæs, using his towering frame and long legs, completely smothered Grozav's run, cleanly stripping the ball away before the Romanian could even look up.
Without hesitating, Selnæs laid the ball off to Theodore in the center of the park.
The moment the ball touched Theodore's boots, the Ullevaal Stadium roared to life.
Tens of thousands of fans screamed his name, their voices raw and desperate for another moment of magic.
The noise sent a massive spike of adrenaline surging through Theodore's veins!
Normally, when he picked the ball up deep in midfield, his first instinct was to scan the horizon and launch one of his trademark long-range passes to the forwards.
But with the crowd urging him on, Theodore decided to switch it up.
He dropped his shoulder and drove straight through the center circle.
He hadn't even covered ten yards when Paul Anton stepped up to meet him. True to his coach's orders, the Romanian midfielder didn't hesitate for a second.
Anton launched himself into a brutal, studs-up sliding tackle, completely ignoring the ball and smashing straight through Theodore's ankles, sending him crashing hard into the turf.
Fweeeet!
The referee was right on top of the play, blowing his whistle frantically as he sprinted over to flash a yellow card in Anton's face.
"You dirty little bastard. Just you wait," Theodore muttered under his breath, grimacing as he pushed himself up from the grass while Anton jogged away with a smug look.
The foul awarded Norway a free kick from about forty yards out.
Theodore dusted himself off and stepped up to take it.
Instead of going for goal, he floated a beautifully weighted, dipping ball toward the back post.
Lurking right on the edge of the six-yard box was Erling Haaland.
Once again, Theodore's delivery was absolute perfection, dropping right onto the big striker's forehead.
And once again, Haaland completely mistimed his jump, glancing the header horribly wide of the post.
"And another missed header from Haaland," Tyler noted on the broadcast, his tone bordering on sympathetic. "He's managed to put it behind for a goal kick. Despite his towering physique, Erling Haaland's aerial ability tonight has been virtually non-existent, especially when compared to the masterclass Bjorn is putting on."
Tătărușanu quickly placed the ball for the goal kick and launched it high toward the center circle.
As the ball hung in the air, both Theodore and Paul Anton began tracking its flight path, moving toward the exact same landing spot.
Theodore's eyes narrowed as he locked onto the midfielder.
His chance for revenge had arrived much faster than he thought!
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