Life in the Netherlands moved at a slow, predictable rhythm for Arghana.
His routine rarely changed—training in the morning, meals at the club facility, and evenings spent in his small apartment, recovering for the next day.
He almost never went out unless absolutely necessary.
But if there was one thing that never wavered, it was his commitment to training.
Since the day he arrived, he had promised himself not to waste a single minute.
Though he didn't shine in practice, he also didn't falter.
To teammates and staff, he was a player still rough around the edges—technically inconsistent, but with impressive stamina and a work ethic that stood out.
He understood clearly: to survive at this level, he had to work harder than anyone else.
In the first weekend of April, Go Ahead Eagles faced an away game against SC Cambuur.
The squad wasn't in the best condition.
Several starting forwards were injured or suspended, leaving Erik ten Hag with limited choices. He had no choice but to name Arghana in the starting lineup.
SC Cambuur were second in the table and strong contenders for promotion to the Eredivisie.
An away trip to their home ground wasn't going to be easy.
Still, if Go Ahead Eagles wanted to stay in the race for the top, they needed all three points.
The game kicked off with both teams clashing fiercely in midfield, each trying to build up play, but failing to create real chances.
Attacks came and went, but the final third felt impenetrable.
On the sidelines, Ten Hag looked restless. He could tell—if this pace continued, their chances of winning would slip away fast.
The root of the problem lay in the attack.
Many players were out of position, and those who stepped in lacked top-level experience.
Arghana, though, was more composed than he had been the week before.
He held the ball better, made smarter decisions, and while he didn't produce any moments of brilliance, at least he didn't commit costly mistakes.
By halftime, the score was still 0-0.
In the locker room, Ten Hag urged the team to be more aggressive in the final third.
One point wouldn't cut it.
If they wanted to climb the table, they had to take risks.
The second half started with the same intensity.
Go Ahead Eagles tried using crosses from wide areas, but the execution was off. Either the ball missed its target or was easily claimed by the opposing keeper.
Then came the 62nd minute.
SC Cambuur finally broke the deadlock.
A fast break down the right exposed a weakness in Go Ahead's defense. The cross came in low and sharp, finding Michiel Hemmen in the box.
He met it with a powerful header aimed at the bottom corner.
The keeper dove, but the ball had too much pace.
The stadium erupted.
That goal gave Cambuur the lead—and added a mountain of pressure on Go Ahead Eagles.
Frustration started creeping in. Ten Hag gestured furiously from the sideline, barking instructions with growing urgency.
They had to equalize.
Or they would leave empty-handed.
By the 76th minute, Cambuur began reinforcing their defense.
Their coach understood the situation.
They weren't trying to win.
They were trying not to lose.
Even though Go Ahead's defense had been solid, Cambuur had prepared for a second-half storm. They closed ranks, tightened the backline, and played cautiously—only launching the occasional counterattack.
After the goal, they abandoned the high press entirely.
It became all about preserving the lead.
Go Ahead Eagles threw everything forward, swarming the final third with wave after wave of attacks.
But Cambuur parked the bus.
Every gap seemed to vanish.
Every run was met with two defenders. Every shot blocked.
Cambuur's second-half play could be summed up in four words:
Defense without counterattack.
With 76 minutes gone and no serious shots on target, time was slipping away.
Could they really hope to score in the final 14 minutes?
It felt impossible.
Even with possession shifting in their favor, the goal wouldn't come.
Then came the 81st minute.
Arghana sprinted into the left side of the penalty area, chasing a lofted pass.
It was overhit. The defender read it easily.
Arghana immediately turned around and sprinted back—he knew the risk of a counter.
He tried pressing high, but the ball was played out of bounds.
Bart Vriends jogged over to take the throw.
Arghana, drenched in sweat, searched for space.
His breath came in gasps. Time was running out.
And in the middle of that crushing pressure—
Something shifted.
The pitch, the players, the noise—all of it changed.
He couldn't explain why, but suddenly everything felt... sharper.
Clearer.
The ball, the defenders, the shape of the game—it all came together like pieces of a puzzle.
The chaos melted away.
Even the roar of the crowd faded.
And in that silence, one thing remained vivid.
The ball.
Its movement, its bounce, the intent of the defender trying to close in—
It was like Arghana could see everything.
He blinked.
This...
This had happened before.
There were no thoughts. No voices. Just instinct and understanding.
The throw-in came. He controlled it with his right foot.
A defender charged. Arghana touched the ball past him with ease.
The defender stumbled, caught off guard.
Another one stepped up with a clean tackle.
Arghana leaned back, shifted his weight, and dragged the ball behind him.
It felt so natural.
His speed hadn't changed. His strength hadn't changed.
But his awareness had exploded.
He could read the defender's movement before it happened.
He saw the trap—
Too late.
He was surrounded.
Passing lanes were gone. The shot wasn't there.
He tried to force something—
But it failed.
Still, he didn't give up.
He turned back, pressed hard, chased the ball down.
And in that moment, he knew—
He couldn't do this alone.
Time was against them. The team needed one final chance.
The 89th minute.
Cambuur broke forward down the right.
Their fullback pushed up and chased a through ball to the byline.
With one touch, he squared his body and whipped in a cross.
In the box, Marnix Kolder was tightly marked.
Arghana surged in from deep, spotting a sliver of space.
His marker hesitated—just a second too late—and grabbed at Arghana's jersey.
But he was already moving.
Ten Hag stopped pacing. His eyes locked onto the penalty area.
In midair, Arghana adjusted his body.
The ball curled perfectly toward him.
He tracked it, made his decision.
No time to wait.
If he let it drop, the defender would clear it.
There was only one move.
He rose.
Met the ball.
Smashed it with the side of his forehead.
The keeper was four meters away.
But the header was flawless.
A laser to the bottom-left corner.
The keeper dove.
Too late.
His hand stretched out—
But the ball was gone.
GOAL.
The net rippled.
The stadium froze.
And then it roared.
Ten Hag stood stunned.
Or maybe—
Arghana had done it again.