In the air, Wesley was soundly defeated.
Although Davinson Sánchez was giving up four centimeters in height to the Villa striker, his timing and reading of the ball's trajectory were flawless.
Furthermore, the Colombian's raw power simply overwhelmed the Brazilian.
Sánchez bullied Wesley out of the way and powered a defensive header clear of the penalty area.
The second ball fell perfectly to the chest of Spurs midfielder Moussa Sissoko.
Instantly, Tottenham launched a devastating counter-attack.
A series of rapid, one-touch passes bypassed Villa's scrambling midfield, and the ball found its way out to the left flank, right back to the feet of Son Heung-min.
Peter Drury was practically breathless. "The pace of this game! Welcome to the Premier League, Aston Villa! There is absolutely no time to blink, and Spurs are immediately looking to punish them on the break."
On social media, the reaction was instantaneous.
"This is what a Champions League team looks like. Villa can't cope with the transition speed."
"The difference between the Championship and the Prem is terrifying."
"Villa need to drop deep immediately. Spurs are going to tear them apart on the counter."
Down on the pitch, Son Heung-min squared up.
Elmohamady and Conor Hourihane rushed over to double-team the South Korean, trying to trap him against the touchline.
Son didn't slow down.
Just as the two Villa men closed the trap, Son didn't chop inside like he had earlier.
Instead, he dropped his shoulder, kicked the ball down the line, and simply ignited his afterburners.
At twenty-six, Son was at the terrifying peak of his physical powers.
Elmohamady and Hourihane were left grasping at thin air as Son effortlessly blew past the double-team, creating a massive pocket of space down the left channel.
Because he possessed no weak foot, Son didn't need to cut back.
Pushing the ball onto his left boot, he whipped a venomous, pinpoint cross into the heart of the Villa penalty area.
Thwack!
Waiting in the kill zone was England's star striker, Harry Kane.
Kane launched himself into the air.
Despite Mings and Engels both grappling with him, desperately tugging at his shirt, Kane's sheer strength and elite positioning won the aerial duel.
He snapped his neck forward, connecting with a thunderous header that rocketed toward the goal like a bullet. H
eaton launched himself across the line, stretching his fingertips as far as they would go, but there was too much power on the ball.
It tore through his grasp and smashed into the back of the net!
1-0.
Just eight minutes in, Tottenham had broken the deadlock!
"Harry Kane!" Drury roared over the deafening noise of the stadium. "A towering header from the England captain! Spurs draw first blood inside ten minutes! A devastating counter-attack orchestrated by Son Heung-min and finished with absolute authority by Kane. Welcome to the top flight, Aston Villa. It is a ruthless place to be."
Kane sprinted straight toward the corner flag, leaping into the arms of a grinning Son as the stadium erupted around them.
Down on the touchline, Dean Smith was already frantically barking orders, motioning with his hands for the squad to drop deep and solidify the defensive shape.
He knew Pochettino's Spurs, having drawn blood, they would smell fear and push relentlessly for a second goal to kill the game off early.
...
Smith's prediction was grimly accurate.
After the restart, Villa managed three passes before Sissoko crunched McGinn and won the ball back.
The turnover visibly shattered Villa's fragile confidence. Sissoko immediately rolled the ball to Christian Eriksen in the center circle.
The moment the Danish maestro looked up, Kane and Son were already on their bikes, sprinting toward the Villa box.
Desperate to stop the supply line, Hourihane, McGinn, and Theodore all converged on Eriksen.
Villa threw three bodies at the playmaker, but Eriksen's technical brilliance was simply too much.
With the pressure collapsing on him, Eriksen didn't panic.
He effortlessly stroked a stunning, outside-of-the-boot pass that curled beautifully into the path of Son Heung-min.
"It's Eriksen with the vision, and Son is away again!" Drury commentated, his voice rising over the roar of the Spurs faithful.
Son brought the ball down perfectly.
This time, Elmohamady stood off him, terrified of being beaten for pace down the line again.
Exploiting the hesitation, Son chopped the ball inside onto his favored right foot, effortlessly bypassing the fullback.
He drove into the penalty area, completely unchallenged.
"Son cuts inside... he pulls the trigger!"
Son laced a vicious, curling shot toward the far corner.
Heaton had absolutely no chance to stop it.
The ball rippled the netting!
"And it's two! Tottenham Hotspur are running riot in North London! Son Heung-min gets his goal, and inside sixteen minutes, Aston Villa find themselves staring down the barrel of a heavy defeat."
The Villa players stood frozen, exchanging hollow helpless glances as the Spurs players celebrated wildly near the corner flag.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Theodore's voice cut through the despair.
He marched toward the center circle, clapping his hands hard, he was furious!
"There's an hour and a half left in this game! Stop dropping your heads! Give me the ball, and I will run the midfield. Don't be afraid of them, we earned our right to be here!"
His raw aggression seemed to snap the Villa squad out of their stupor.
After the restart, Theodore became an absolute menace.
He demanded the ball constantly, moving with relentless energy to offer passing lanes.
The squad leaned heavily on him, whenever panic set in, they deferred to the seventeen-year-old.
Spurs quickly realized that the kid was the only thing keeping Villa breathing.
In the twentieth minute, Theodore dropped deep to receive a pass from Grealish.
Instantly, Ndombele and Winks converged on him, looking to trap him just as they had done to Grealish earlier.
But Theodore wasn't going to hold the ball.
The second the pass arrived, he executed a sublime, first-time no-look chip!
Thud.
The ball sailed effortlessly over the heads of the pressing midfielders, dropping perfectly onto the chest of Wesley in the attacking third.
Wesley brought it down, but Toby Alderweireld was immediately breathing down his neck, harassing him from behind.
As the Brazilian tried to shield the ball and turn, Sissoko arrived to double-team him.
Trapped, Wesley looked up in desperation and saw Theodore.
After releasing the chip, Theodore had immediately bypassed the Spurs midfield, sprinting into the open space to provide support.
Wesley quickly laid it off.
"Bjorn finds space!" Drury commentated. "He doesn't hesitate—he threads it through to Grealish on the left!"
Theodore's first-time through-ball was a knife through the heart of the Spurs backline.
The pass instantly collapsed the defensive shape, putting Grealish through on the left side of the penalty area.
Grealish chopped inside onto his right foot and unleashed a heavy strike toward the near post.
But Hugo Lloris proved why he was a World Cup-winning captain.
The Frenchman threw himself to his left, producing a stunning, one-handed reflex save to push the ball out for a corner!
"Magnificent save from Lloris!" Drury praised. "But Villa have finally shown some teeth. A brilliant passage of play orchestrated by the teenager."
Grealish jogged over to the flag to take the corner.
Inside the box, Theodore took up a position near the penalty spot.
Recognizing the threat, Alderweireld immediately grabbed a fistful of Theodore's shirt, sticking to him like glue.
Thump.
Grealish whipped a heavy, inswinging cross directly into the mixer.
Wesley, Sánchez, Alderweireld, and Theodore all launched themselves into the air, converging on the exact same spot.
But possessing the elite heading ability of Jurgen Klinsmann, Theodore's aerial dominance was terrifying!
He hung in the air, completely overpowering Alderweireld's challenge!
BANG.
Theodore snapped his head forward, connecting with devastating force.
The ball rocketed off his forehead like a cannonball!
Lloris scrambled across his line and dove, but the sheer velocity of the header left him grasping at shadows.
The ball nearly tore through the netting!