The commentators were left speechless.
The free-kick position was certainly ideal for a direct shot—but no one expected that. Could he really score from there?
"It's in... it's in?!" Letkinson stammered. He had imagined plenty of ways this match could start—but not like this. Not with Luton finding the net so early!
He looked up at the stadium's big screen.
2 minutes, 33 seconds.
"Two minutes!!! It only took two minutes!! Luton have scored!!!" Letkinson finally found his voice. Against all odds, Luton had taken the lead.
"And now Benítez's side are in trouble—they've conceded almost immediately after kickoff! This is unbelievable! Could Luton be on the verge of another miracle?!"
"It's too soon to tell," his co-commentator replied. "Now it's all about Liverpool's response—can they regroup and get back into this?"
Benítez stood on the touchline, frowning, arms crossed.
Luton's goal had caught everyone off guard—a stunning free kick, curled in perfectly by Kevin Keane. The ball flew over the wall and nestled in the top corner. Reina had no chance.
But now was not the time to admire the beauty of the strike.
Liverpool were trailing.
Benítez exhaled sharply. If there was any silver lining, it was the timing—conceding early meant there was still a long way to go.
Luton's players were still celebrating wildly. On the sidelines, Ethan was smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit after joining the coaching staff in their jubilation. He was proud—not just of the goal, but of the execution of his plan.
Keane's free-kick may have looked like a moment of individual brilliance, but to Ethan, it was a product of careful strategy. Starting Adam was no gamble—it was a tactical move to leverage his explosive pace and tight dribbling. The plan? To unsettle Liverpool's high backline and provoke defensive fouls in dangerous areas.
Creating set-piece opportunities was all part of the plan.
Ethan knew Luton couldn't sit deep and hope for a goalless draw—not against a team with Liverpool's firepower: a fluid front three, creative midfielders, and relentless pressure. Hoping for a clean sheet through sheer luck? That wasn't his style.
His biggest concern had been Liverpool dominating possession and pinning Luton back, rendering any counter-attacks toothless. That's why Ethan insisted on striking first—setting the tempo, rattling Liverpool, and stealing momentum in the opening stages.
And it worked. Brilliantly.
Now, Ethan watched as Liverpool's players looked deflated, like balloons losing air. For the moment, he could relax about defensive pressure.
He rubbed his chin, already thinking several moves ahead.
Maybe it's time to push the line higher…
He began motioning furiously with his right hand—driving his players forward, as if shepherding them into the opposition half.
"Never be afraid of confrontation!"
Adam remembered Ethan's words and clenched his jaw, charging at Arbeloa, who had just received the ball near the touchline.
The Spanish fullback was caught off guard—he didn't expect Adam to close down so fast. He tried to shield the ball, but Adam was already there.
In that split second, Arbeloa could almost see stars—like the soft halo of lights over the Rainbow Bridge.
Adam slid in, studs down, cleanly winning the ball—but his momentum took Arbeloa to the turf too.
He sprang back up, chasing the loose ball, eyes set on the penalty area.
But then—a sharp whistle cut through the tension.
Foul.
Adam froze, football in hand, turning to the referee in disbelief.
"I got the ball!" he shouted, frustration clear in his voice.
But the referee waved play on.
"Foul! That's a reckless challenge! He should be booked!" Benítez was fuming on the touchline, arms flailing in frustration.
He had seen Adam's tackle clearly — yes, the Luton midfielder had won the ball, but it was a crunching challenge on Arbeloa. If the referee wasn't going to call it, Adam would be free to storm straight into the box.
Luton had been using sheer physicality to disrupt Liverpool's rhythm in the past few minutes. Adam's sliding challenge on Arbeloa was just the latest in a string of heavy tackles. Several Liverpool players had already been brought down — all met with no bookings.
The match had turned scrappy, more of a wrestling bout than a football game.
What infuriated Benítez even more was that the referee still hadn't shown a single yellow card.
Not one.
On the other side of the pitch, Ethan noticed Benítez's fury. He shouted across the technical area, "What are you shouting for? Open your eyes! That was a textbook tackle — no foul there at all!"
Tension flared. As Arbeloa rose from the turf, he stormed toward Adam, rage in his eyes. The situation boiled over.
Chaos erupted on and off the pitch.
The fourth official had his hands full trying to keep the two managers apart, while the referee tried to control the escalating scuffle on the pitch.
Arbeloa shoved Adam to the ground. Kevin Keane rushed in to defend his teammate, squaring up to Arbeloa. Several Luton players quickly joined the fray, surrounding the Liverpool right-back.
Liverpool players weren't going to stand by either. They surged in to back Arbeloa.
For a moment, it looked like a full-blown melee might erupt.
The referee struggled to separate the players, blowing his whistle furiously. Eventually, tempers cooled — barely — and the two sides backed off.
But not without consequence.
Adam and Arbeloa both received yellow cards.
Ethan was visibly frustrated on the sideline. He muttered something under his breath, clearly unimpressed by the decision — but the fourth official, unfamiliar with Chinese, didn't understand a word.
Had he known, Ethan might have found himself in deeper trouble.
Benítez, meanwhile, turned to his assistant coach, shaking his head. His own words weren't exactly clean, but at least Ethan was drawing the attention away.
Still, Benítez wasn't blind to what was happening.
"They're doing this on purpose," he said grimly, realization setting in.
Luton were deliberately ratcheting up the aggression, trying to provoke Liverpool, to get inside their heads. And it was working — Arbeloa had already lost his composure, and others might follow.
Benítez took quick action. He called over Gerrard.
"Keep everyone focused. Don't let them bait you," he instructed.
Gerrard nodded firmly. He knew the team couldn't afford to lose control. Liverpool needed to get back to playing their game.
The captain jogged over to Arbeloa, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Calm down! Focus! We need to play our football — not theirs."
Sometimes, a captain doesn't just lead the attack — he has to put out fires, too.
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