"It is a fascinating tactical battle, Gary," Martin Tyler observed. "City are circulating possession at the back, trying to draw United out. But is it risky?"
"It is high risk, high reward, Martin," Gary Neville replied, circling the screen on the tactical monitor.
"If United's forwards—Ling, Rashford, Lukaku—intercept the ball here, City are wide open. Their defenders are split. One mistake, and it's a 3-vs-2 counter-attack. Whoever blinks first loses."
24th Minute, Fernandinho received the ball near the center circle.
Immediately, Jesse Lingard pressed him.
As the designated "troublemaker" in the number 10 role, Lingard's job was to harass City's midfield pivot.
Seeing the press, Fernandinho quickly shuffled the ball wide to the left flank.
Ling closed in immediately, trying to suffocate David Silva's turning space.
But he had underestimated the Spaniard.
They didn't call him El Mago (The Magician) for nothing.
Silva's ability to operate in a phone booth was rivaled only by Messi.
Despite his slight frame, his balance was unshakeable. He took the pass on his instep, and in one fluid motion, spun away from pressure.
Panic set in.
Ling felt the danger and instinctively reached out, tugging Silva's jersey.
Silva felt the contact and went down.
Beep!
Referee Michael Oliver blew his whistle sharply.
He called Ling over. "Watch your hands. Next time, it goes in the book. Understand?"
Ling nodded, walking away with a slight smirk.
He wasn't concerned.
This was part of Mourinho's instructions: Protect the central areas at all costs.
If Silva or De Bruyne looked like they were getting comfortable, break the rhythm.
It was a calculated trade-off.
By playing on the right wing today, Ling was also avoiding a direct physical battle with Kyle Walker, aiming to exploit the space left by City's more adventurous left side.
37th Minute
The pattern changed.
Manchester City stopped forcing play down the wings and began playing narrow, rapid combinations through the middle.
While the creative players drew markers away, Fernandinho suddenly surged forward from the back, becoming the chaotic variable United hadn't accounted for.
"Oh, danger here!" Martin Tyler raised his voice.
"Smalling has stepped up too aggressively!" Neville shouted. "He's left a massive gap behind him!"
Fernandinho spotted it instantly. He chipped a pass into the space.
Raheem Sterling sprinted onto it.
With his characteristic running style—arms pumping high against his chest like a T-Rex—he generated astonishing speed.
He was through.
Sterling wound up his leg for a volley.
Marcos Rojo didn't hesitate.
The Argentine defender threw himself into the line of fire, sliding backward with zero regard for his own safety.
Bang!
The shot smashed into Rojo, deflecting out for a corner.
Sterling held his head in his hands.
He couldn't believe it didn't go in.
"Brave defending!" Neville praised. "That is old school! He put his head where it hurts!"
"Rojo is down," Tyler noted. "He's bleeding."
The United players gathered around.
Rojo had a cut on his cheek, likely from a grazing stud or the impact of the ball.
Blood trickled down his face.
The referee signaled for the medical staff and Rojo had to leave the pitch to be patched up.
The match resumed with United temporarily down to 10 men.
David Silva whipped in the corner.
Smalling, eager to make amends for his earlier error, rose highest and powered a header clear.
The ball dropped to Pogba.
Using his immense frame, Pogba held off Silva, controlled the bouncing ball, spun away from the pressure, and launched a long, raking pass to the right flank.
"United have an outlet!"
Ling trapped the ball and turned.
The expanse of green grass ahead of him was inviting.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rojo on the sideline, arguing with the physio, desperate to get back on the pitch to help his team.
Ling felt a surge of adrenaline.
'They are fighting with blood and sweat. I cannot let them down.'
He felt electric. He pushed the ball past the halfway line.
Fabian Delph stepped up to meet him.
Under Guardiola's coaching, Delph had been converted from a midfielder to a left-back.
He had grown confident, viewing himself as a reliable cog in the City machine—perhaps even believing the media hype calling him the "Yorkshire Maldini."
But Ling had done his homework.
He had watched all 14 of Delph's matches this season.
His conclusion? Delph was excellent at reading the game, but his turning circle was slow, and his recovery pace was average.
Ling drove at him.
The gap closed rapidly.
The Old Trafford crowd held its breath.
'Snow swirled in the air.'
Ling made his move.
'Inside touch.Outside cut.Stride.Touch.'
Four distinct movements in the blink of an eye, shifting his body weight violently from left to right.
Delph froze.
His anticipation meant nothing against raw speed and deception. He tried to turn, but his feet got tangled.
He stumbled, nearly planting his face in the turf.
"Oh, he's turned him inside out!" Gary Neville gasped on commentary. "Delph is on the floor! That is magnificent!"
A roar like a tidal wave crashed down from the stands.
Ling was free.
Thirty meters out.
Vincent Kompany saw the danger.
He signaled Otamendi to stick with Lukaku, and he stepped out to confront Ling.
Kompany was a legend, but his body was failing him.
Years of injuries had robbed him of his top speed. He knew Ling favored his right foot, so he angled his body to force him wide.
Ling slowed down slightly, scanning the picture.
Then—no feints, no tricks. Just pure, explosive acceleration.
Kompany tried to react, but his legs felt heavy.
He watched helplessly as Ling knocked the ball past him and simply sprinted around.
It was a brutal exposure of the passing of time.
'I'm getting too old for this,' Kompany thought bitterly as the number 7 shirt blurred past him.
Ling entered the final third.
In his mind, the pitch was a grid.
Otamendi was wrestling with Lukaku. Kyle Walker was tracking Rashford at the back post. But arriving late, bursting through the middle... was Jesse Lingard.
Ling didn't look.
He just knew.
He snapped his ankle.
Crack!
The ball rolled perfectly across the wet turf, cutting out the entire City defense, teasing the goalkeeper as it rolled to the edge of the penalty area.
"Lingard is arriving!" Tyler screamed.
Jesse Lingard threw his body at the ball in a slide.
Fernandinho lunged desperately to block it, but he was a fraction of a second too late.
Thump!
The ball flew into the bottom corner, rippling the white netting.