Whoosh!!!
Old Trafford instantly erupted into a cacophony of noise.
Seventy-five thousand fans leaped from their seats, creating a tsunami of red that crashed down onto the pitch.
They didn't care about the intricate tactical battle that had preceded the goal. They didn't care about Mourinho's instructions or the statistics.
All they saw was the ball nestling in the Liverpool net!
For Ling, the goal was sweet, but the celebration was sweeter.
He was instantly mobbed by his teammates.
"You beauty!" Paul Pogba screamed, grabbing Ling in a headlock.
"That flick!" Romelu Lukaku roared, lifting Ling off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
It was a team goal in the truest sense. Nemanja Matic's interception, Pogba's laser-guided pass, Lukaku's immense hold-up play, and Ling's genius finish.
Every link in the chain had held firm.
The Manchester United players could feel the shift. Last time at Anfield, they had been passengers, parking the bus and praying for a draw. Today? They were the aggressors.
They were the protagonists!
...
A few yards away, the Liverpool players stood with hands on hips, disappointed but not defeated.
"Heads up!" Virgil van Dijk's voice boomed across the pitch. "It's one goal! We are Liverpool! We don't stop!"
The Dutchman was right.
No comeback, no Liverpool. It was in their DNA. Jurgen Klopp had instilled a warrior spirit in this squad. They thrived on adversity.
Van Dijk walked over to Trent Alexander-Arnold and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, pointing aggressively to the right half-space.
"Listen to me," Van Dijk commanded. "Protect the second ball. Do not let Number 7 receive it facing forward. You have to suffocate him. Double up on him. Triple up if you have to."
"Understood," Alexander-Arnold grunted, wiping sweat from his brow.
The young Scouser was still replaying the goal in his mind. He was still trying to figure out Ling's "heavy touch."
Was it a mistake? Or was it a trap?
Trent looked at Ling, who was jogging back to the halfway line. They were the same age. They were both academy graduates thrust into the spotlight.
But right now, Ling felt miles ahead.
Trent shook his head violently, dispelling the doubt.
'I am Alexander-Arnold. I am Liverpool's future. I will not be beaten again.'
On the touchline, Jurgen Klopp was a whirlwind of energy. He stomped to the edge of the technical area, punching the air and screaming instructions.
"Press! Press! Press!" Klopp roared. "Force him back! Make him defend! Use the right side!"
Klopp's strategy was clear: attack is the best form of defense.
By overloading the right flank with Salah, Chamberlain, and Arnold, he wanted to pin Ling deep in his own half, turning United's most dangerous weapon into a glorified left-back.
...
The match resumed, and the tempo exploded.
Liverpool launched into their "Heavy Metal" football. It was fast, chaotic, and relentless.
Salah, Chamberlain, and Arnold formed a flat attacking triangle, rotating positions with dizzying speed to confuse United's markers.
Manchester United responded by condensing their shape. Ling dropped deep, almost forming a back five at times, to help Ashley Young cope with the overload.
The narrow right flank became a battlefield.
23rd Minute Matic crunched into a tackle on Chamberlain, winning the ball.
But before he could look up, Alexander-Arnold was there, nipping the ball away like a terrier. He slid a pass down the line to Salah.
The Egyptian King prepared to sprint, but Ashley Young was already there.
The veteran fullback, playing the game of his life, smashed the ball into the stands.
"Not today, Mo!" Young shouted.
33rd Minute Ling dropped deep to intercept a pass intended for Salah.
He controlled it, but instantly felt the pressure. Chamberlain hit him from the front; Arnold hit him from the side.
It was a cage.
Ling managed to shimmy past Chamberlain, but he ran straight into Arnold's shoulder.
The ball bobbled loose and rolled out for a throw-in.
The game had descended into a war of attrition. Liverpool was using high-intensity pressing to drain the energy of United's players. It was a test of lungs and patience.
...
High above the pitch, the Sky Sports pundits were engaged in their own battle.
"Although Liverpool are behind, an equalizer is only a matter of time," Jamie Carragher declared, finding his voice again after thirty minutes of silence.
"Under this pressure, mistakes are inevitable. United are creaking."
"I disagree," Gary Neville shot back. "Look at the danger. Chamberlain and Arnold are pushing so high that they are leaving acres of space behind. If Ling gets one chance to turn, he is gone. It's high risk, high reward."
"Haha, look at him now!" Carragher laughed, pointing at the monitor. "Ling is practically playing left-back! Klopp has neutralized him perfectly. He's spending more time defending than attacking."
"Just wait, Carra," Neville muttered. "Just wait."
"Watch this movement," Carragher said, his voice rising in excitement. "Chamberlain isn't staying wide! He's cutting inside! He's dragging Matic out of position!"
...
On the pitch, the players were moving.
Chamberlain drifted central, pulling Matic with him. This left a gap in the channel between the center-back and the fullback.
"Emre Can is making the run!" Carragher shouted. "He's driving into the heart of the defense!"
Amid the roaring support of the traveling Kop, Emre Can powered forward like a steam train.
The German midfielder was a tank—strong, direct, and versatile.
Simultaneously, Roberto Firmino dropped deep into the "False 9" position, dragging a defender with him. Sadio Mané and Mohamed Salah made diagonal runs toward the goal, crossing paths to confuse the markers.
It was a perfectly choreographed Klopp attack.
Emre Can spotted the movement.
He wound up for a shot but instead disguised a fierce pass along the ground.
David Luiz stepped up decisively. The Brazilian defender wanted to intercept the ball before it reached the danger zone.
He read the pass intended for Firmino.
But Firmino didn't touch it.
With a sublime dummy, the Brazilian striker let the ball roll through his legs.
"Oh, the dummy!" Neville gasped.
David Luiz was stranded. He had committed his weight forward.
The ball skidded past him, rolling swiftly into the open space on the left side of the penalty area.
There was a gap.
And rushing into that gap was the speed demon himself.
Sadio Mané.