Julien watched Nasri's dejected back as he walked away, his face showed not even a flicker of emotion. He simply smoothed down his jersey where it had been tugged and wrinkled.
Now all that remained was to see out the match and celebrate the win:
To celebrate his first English trophy.
Both sides gradually settled, and at the referee's urging, the players drifted back to their positions.
But by now, the City players' faces were etched with despair. A man down, three goals to one—the gap had drained the last of their fighting spirit.
Liverpool's players, by contrast, carried nothing but confidence in their eyes. The title was within their reach. Just a few more minutes, and they could celebrate their first trophy of the season without restraint.
A roar went up. Then another louder roared.
Wembley erupted again in a sea of red.
"Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart,
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never walk alone
...."
Some fans were still lost in the moment of the red card and the goal.
"Red card! A beautiful red card! Get out of here, Nasri!" One fan with flushed red face, surged to his feet and began waving a red scarf wildly high above his head, shouting hoarsely. "Sent off, wasn't he?! City are finished, bloody finished! HAHA"
The fans around him roared in agreement.
"We've won this! We've got it won! Three-one up, and a man down—how can City even come back from that?"
"Champions! Liverpool are champions! We're finally winning it again!"
"We're going to win; we're going to be champions! Julien's been brilliant, Stevie's been brilliant—this Liverpool side hasn't let us down!"
"Champions! Liverpool are champions!"
The cheering from the stands never eased off. Every word from the fans carried the same anticipation of glory.
Some chanted over and over: "Champions! We are the champions!"
Others made plans for how they'd celebrate after the final whistle. Some were already in tears, they'd waited so long for this moment. The match wasn't over yet, but with a 3-1 lead and a man advantage, victory already felt within their grasp.
Others turned toward the blue end of the stadium and began jeering with delight.
"You're going home, you're going home,
You're going home again!
Two-nil down and down to ten,
You're going home again!"
Another chant rolled around Wembley as Liverpool fans mocked City.
"What a waste of money!
What a waste of money!"
The City fans in the blue section hung their heads. No one answered back.
They could only sit with the weight of their disappointment.
On the pitch, the match continued.
But everyone could feel it—the suspense had already drained out of the game.
This was City's second defeat to Liverpool this season.
The players felt it too.
Wembley had tipped completely one way now.
Liverpool had seized total control of the rhythm. They eased off the high press and now began to hold possession and run down the clock.
Julien dropped deeper and started taking on more responsibility in midfield possession and defence with the occasional darting run to pin back City's defenders.
De Bruyne and Sterling slowed their pace too to help keep the ball moving, and began launching the occasional probing attack without pressing the issue.
City, meanwhile, had absorbed blow after blow—falling behind, losing their star player to injury, watching Nasri sent off and their morale had completely collapsed.
They'd lost almost all will to fight, their faces showed nothing but gloom.
They kept their positions on the pitch, but their defending had become purely a formality, with no appetite left for attack. Even when they won the ball, they passed it back hastily, looking reluctant to risk pushing forward as if all they wanted now was for this humiliating match to end.
The minutes ticked away, the clock was running down second by second.
Liverpool crept closer and closer to the title.
Soon, the fourth official held up his board for: two minutes of stoppage time.
The Liverpool end exploded into an even fiercer roar; a countdown was rippling through the crowd: "Two minutes! Just two more minutes!"
"The title's almost here!"
"Liverpool—champions!"
City's players watched the board go up without reaction, the same numb, helpless expression was still fixed on their faces.
At last, as the two minutes of stoppage time wound down to their final seconds—
Referee Atkinson slowly raised his right hand, brought the whistle to his lips, and drew a deep breath.
Then—
A single blast of the whistle rang out across Wembley, cutting through every cheer and every sigh.
Peep!
Three blasts. The final whistle.
It was over.
The instant the match ended, Wembley was hurled to the very peak of celebration, every sound in the stadium fused into one single roar from the Liverpool faithful.
The scoreline stood frozen at 3-1.
On the strength of a goal and two assists from Julien, Liverpool had beaten Manchester City to lift the 2013/14 League Cup.
The moment the whistle fell—Liverpool players could no longer contain their joy.
They screamed where they stood.
Their teammates surged off the bench like tigers breaking free of their chains, sprinting onto the pitch, every shred of restraint was abandoned, nothing was left but raw, unfiltered jubilation.
Julien threw his arms wide and roared at the sky.
It was his first trophy since arriving in the Premier League but it was only the beginning.
A League Cup meant little on its own.
The Premier League title this season that was his real target.
Gerrard, as captain, raised his arms high and began waving to the fans in the stands, before turning to be swallowed up by teammates rushing to embrace him.
They piled together, leaping and shouting, pounding each other's backs, letting out everything they'd been holding in.
De Bruyne, Sterling, Van Dijk—every Liverpool player was lost in the ecstasy of the title.
Some dropped to their knees, tilted their heads back, spread arms wide drinking in the taste of victory.
Some embraced each other in tears even the usually composed defenders had reddened eyes now.
On the touchline, Klopp couldn't hold his composure either.
His coaching staff wrapped him in a tight embrace, and together they celebrated, cheering and laughing.
His tactics had delivered the glory of a trophy.
He had led this Liverpool side onto the League Cup winners' podium.
In the stands, it had become a sea of red celebration, a tide had swept across the entire stadium and showed no sign of settling.
Countless red flags whipped wildly through the air in an unbroken wall of red scarves like a sheet of flame lighting up the whole ground.
Fans rose to their feet, shouting with everything they had: "Champions! We are the champions! Liverpool! We are Liverpool!"
Old fans stood with eyes rimmed red as they laughed and roared the love that had spanned years, the relief of finally witnessing their club lift a trophy again was souring their eyes.
Younger fans threw their arms around each other's shoulders, singing the club anthem together, voices were ringing out soaring into the sky.
Every line of the song carried their love for the club.
Some fans, overwhelmed, flung their hats and scarves into the air, threw their arms around strangers beside them, and celebrated together, cheering together, crying together.
In this moment, every Liverpool fan shared in the exact same joy.
A world apart from Liverpool's pure celebration.
City's players and fans had fallen into silence.
The entire blue end sat in dead quiet in a different world entirely from the red celebration nearby.
On the pitch, City's players looked as though every ounce of strength had been drained from them, they were on the grass with their heads bowed.
Kompany, as captain, stood rooted to the spot, unmoving for a long while, his eyes were filled with self-reproach. He hadn't led his team to victory. He hadn't protected the club's pride. He felt he'd let down every fan in the stands who had come to support them.
Pellegrini let out a deep sigh as well.
The tactics he'd so carefully prepared had all come to nothing. They had lost this final badly, lost it without any fight left to offer.
Most of City's fans in the stands sat with heads down, saying nothing.
Others had already begun rising from their seats, slipping quietly toward the exits, unwilling to witness their team's final moments of misery, unwilling to watch Liverpool's celebration, unwilling to see Liverpool's players lift the trophy.
Meanwhile—
The moment the match ended, commentator Martin Tyler's voice rang out.
"Three-one! Liverpool! Champions of the 2013/14 League Cup! They've done it! They have beaten Manchester City to lift this heavy, magnificent trophy. Tonight, Wembley belongs to red—it belongs to Liverpool, and most of all, it belongs to that brilliant young man—Julien De Rocca!
Let's look back on this match—from the tension of kick-off, through the fierce exchanges of the first half, to the tight, twisting battle of the second, every single minute was filled with the magic of football! Liverpool built a two-goal first-half lead on the back of Julien's stunning performance, a complete showcase of this young man's talent and all-around game!
And City never stopped fighting back! Pellegrini's second-half tactical changes had an immediate impact. Agüero's injury looked to have put them in a hopeless position, but Navas, thrown on in his place, used his pace to tear the defence open and set up Dzeko's goal, breathing fresh suspense back into the match!
We saw City's resilience tonight, their refusal to go quietly but in the end, they still couldn't hold back Liverpool's attack, and they certainly couldn't stop the unstoppable Julien!
Friends, turn your eyes to the centre of this pitch to this young man, not even twenty years old yet!
Julien De Rocca!
In ninety minutes, with one goal and two assists, he single-handedly shaped the outcome of this final!
He was marked relentlessly all match, yet he broke free of defenders time and again with his bursts of pace, his sharp changes of direction, his pinpoint passing, carving out chance after chance for his team. He is Liverpool's anchor, and he is, beyond any doubt, the man of the match in this final!
Some have said the nickname 'the Conqueror' is too bold for him. But tonight, he's shown the entire world, with his performance, that the name carries no exaggeration, not one ounce of it!
We all remember—just last season, he was tearing through defences in Ligue 1, leading Bastia to a string of honours, the most dazzling talent on the French stage, a player the whole league bowed to.
And now, barely more than half a season into his Premier League career, he has already led Liverpool onto the League Cup podium conquering English football goal by goal, assist by assist, conquering every single fan inside Wembley!
This young man possesses a footballing gift like no other!
From Ligue 1 to the Premier League, from Bastia to Liverpool, everywhere he's gone, he's conquered the pitch. Everywhere he's gone, he's left behind glory that belongs to him alone!
We've watched him grow, watched him transform, step by step, from a prodigy in France into a conqueror of the Premier League!
Tonight, he hasn't just helped Liverpool lift a trophy—his performance announces the arrival of a new era. The age of Julien De Rocca has begun!
He is conquering the Premier League in his own way, conquering the footballing world bit by bit. And in the future, we have every reason to believe this young man will bring us many more surprises, claim many more honours, and continue writing the legend of 'the Conqueror'!
Tonight, at Wembley, the celebration in red shows no sign of ending!
Let's cheer once more for Liverpool, for the championship, and above all, for that unstoppable conqueror, Julien De Rocca!
Congratulations to Liverpool! Congratulations to Julien!
Congratulations to every player who fought for this victory!"
The celebrations at Wembley carried on.
Preparations for the trophy ceremony moved ahead at full speed, staff were hurrying to set up the podium.
In the midst of it, Klopp was stopped by reporters for a quick interview before the ceremony.
Fresh off the celebration, his face was still flushed with excitement.
The reporter opened with his congratulations. "Jürgen, congratulations to Liverpool on beating Manchester City to win the League Cup! Can you tell us—after such a rollercoaster match tonight, what's your biggest takeaway?"
Klopp smiled and nodded. "Thank you to everyone—thank you to my players, thank you to every Liverpool fan who came out tonight. Without them, there's no victory tonight.
This match was genuinely difficult, but my players didn't let me down. They held firm under pressure, and they protected the win. That togetherness—that's the key to why we won tonight."
Asked about the team and players' performance, Klopp added, "I'm proud of this team. I'm proud of every single player.
Tonight, they showed the spirit of Liverpool.
Every player gave everything they had out there—running, pressing, holding their ground. Even when the score got tighter and things got difficult, there was no panic. They stuck to our game plan, they trusted each other. That trust, that fight—it means more to me than the trophy itself.
We're not perfect. But we're the most united, hardest-fighting team there is. That's Liverpool."
When asked whether this League Cup title would change the team's goals going forward, Klopp shook his head.
"Of course not. This trophy is motivation—it's fuel for what's next. But it is absolutely not our final stop.
Tonight, we lifted the League Cup. But our ambitions have never stopped there.
Our core goal remains the same: the Premier League title!
We came to the Premier League to compete for every trophy there is. The League Cup is a solid step forward but the league title is what we've always wanted, what every single one of us is working toward together!
Liverpool needs a Premier League title."
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