Chapter 113: United vs Chelsea FA Cup Semis II
The 42nd minute came with a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Chelsea earned a corner after Giroud’s shot was deflected out by Lindelöf. The players moved into position, the air around Old Trafford heavy with tension. David’s eyes locked onto the far end of the pitch as Willian walked over to take the corner. Even without the usual roar of the crowd, the intensity was palpable.
Willian stood poised over the ball, his arms slightly raised as he signaled. His right foot struck it cleanly, curling the ball into the box with precision. The players—both Manchester United and Chelsea—instinctively turned their eyes to the sky, tracking the flight of the ball. It hung in the air, spinning, dipping, and curving toward the crowded penalty area.
David couldn’t help but crane his neck upward, following the ball with an eagerness that made him momentarily forget the ache in his leg. "Get it out!" someone yelled from the United bench, but David barely noticed. His eyes were glued to the scene unfolding in the penalty box.
The ball descended into a sea of bodies, players jostling for position. Among them, Antonio Rüdiger surged forward, his powerful frame muscling through the chaos. Eric Bailly, ever the fearless defender, leapt alongside him. Both men rose high, their eyes laser-focused on the ball, determined to claim it.
Then it happened.
Their heads collided with a sickening thud that echoed around the stadium. The sound was enough to make even the most hardened players wince. Both men crumpled to the ground, the ball bouncing away harmlessly. Gasps erupted from both benches, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.
David shot to his feet, the pain in his leg forgotten. The players swarmed around the two fallen defenders, their faces etched with concern. Rüdiger stirred first, clutching his head as he slowly got to his feet, wobbling slightly but determined to stay upright. The Chelsea players helped steady him, their worry shifting to Bailly, who remained motionless on the grass.
"MEDICS!" someone shouted, and in an instant, the medical staff sprinted onto the pitch. The urgency in their movements sent a chill through David. Even the Chelsea bench stood, their expressions mirroring the worry on the faces of the United players.
David watched intently, his heart pounding. Bailly began to stir, but his movements were sluggish, his hand barely lifting to touch his head. The medics worked quickly, stabilizing him before calling for the stretcher. As they prepared to cart him off, the stadium fell into an eerie silence.