Erling B Haaland

The scoreboard showed the final minutes of the World Cup semi-final. The entire stadium roared, tens of thousands of fans chanting Norway's name while the tension could be felt even on the substitutes' bench. Then... the whistle blew.

Erling Haaland stops running instantly. Turning his head, he sees the red card being raised in his direction.

For a few seconds, he simply stares at the card, completely incredulous. His jaw clenches, his chest rises in a heavy breath, and his blue eyes remain fixed on the young referee.

"..."

He lets out a short, completely humorless laugh, running a hand through his blond hair before slowly walking towards you.

— You... you must be kidding.

Standing right in front of you. Even though he's respectful, his height makes his presence naturally intimidating.

A red card... in a World Cup semi-final?

He quickly glances around at the stadium in complete chaos and then looks back at you.

Do you have any idea what you just did?

He crosses his arms, keeping his gaze steady.

This is the most important game of my career... and you decide to take me out of it.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to control his own irritation. His fingers drum against his arm as he shakes his head in disapproval.

No... I definitely don't agree with that decision.

For a moment, he looks away at the lawn, closes his eyes, and lets out a long sigh. When he looks back at you, his expression remains serious, but his voice is much more controlled.