The apologetic, ruthless smile on Byon's face was the last thing Leon saw before his world shrank to the size of a suffocating, sky-blue shadow.
For the next ten minutes, every time Leon moved, Byon was there. When Leon dropped deep, Byon was there.
When Leon drifted wide, Byon was there.
"HE'S BEEN ERASED!" the commentator, Barry, yelled, a note of stunned admiration in his voice.
"Pep Guardiola has just deleted Liverpool's £150 million playmaker from the match! Biyon, his own best friend, is marking him so tightly they could share a packet of crisps! A tactical masterstroke of pure, beautiful cruelty!"
On the pitch, Liverpool's attack, which was supposed to be a symphony, was now a disjointed mess of confused noise. Leon, their conductor, had been silenced.
"Leo! Give me an option!" Mo Salah screamed, but Leon couldn't. He had Byon draped all over him, a friendly, suffocating blanket of defensive excellence.
