Crackle, pop, bang—
Outside the hotel where Manchester United players were staying, fireworks were set off with fervent enthusiasm, accompanied by the chants of Liverpool fans.
This was a strategy commonly employed by fans worldwide.
Even though the area around the hotel was largely under police control, Liverpool fans still managed to find loopholes.
Moreover, Liverpool fans were quite cunning—they set off fireworks in two separate rounds, at 1 a.m. and 4 a.m.
Jeremy Ling put on noise-canceling headphones but still couldn't fall asleep, so he simply sat by the window and gazed at the night sky.
Liverpool wasn't like Manchester.
Being close to the sea meant there were few clouds in the sky, allowing the stars to shine clearly.
After a while, Ling yawned, noticing that the Liverpool fans had quieted down, and he lay back in bed, falling into a deep sleep.
Fortunately, he didn't suffer from conditions like neurasthenia, so even falling asleep a second time felt comfortable.
...
However, McTominay was having a rough time.
The next day, he sat at the dining table with half a panda eye, looking as wilted as a frostbitten eggplant, listlessly stuffing food into his mouth.
Having been roommates with Scott McTominay for several years, Ling knew that Scott had high standards for his sleeping environment.
All he could do now was helplessly said, "Liverpool fans were actually quite considerate. When we went to play in Russia before, they set off fireworks every 20 minutes—there was no way to sleep at all."
"If you ask me, it's just poor security in Liverpool. Look at last week when Liverpool came to Manchester—our fans only set off fireworks once before being chased away."
Wan-Bissaka hadn't slept well either.
But since he was already as dark as charcoal, it was hard to tell if he looked tired.
"Today's match is at 8:30 p.m. After completing basic training, everyone can return to the hotel for another nap," Faria said.
For high-level competitive matches, an athlete's condition is extremely important and can be a decisive factor in the outcome.
So, the most important thing for Manchester United players right now was to get proper rest.
"Hmm, why hasn't the boss come down yet?" Ling nodded and asked curiously.
Since Mourinho began coaching Manchester United, he had always been the first to arrive and the last to leave.
Today, he was uncharacteristically late?
"The boss is 56 years old now, and he didn't rest well last night either. He's probably still sleeping," Faria grumbled as he took a bite of steak.
He had been with Mourinho for 15 years, from their meeting at Barcelona in 2001, to Leiria, Chelsea, Inter Milan, Real Madrid... To be honest, he knew Mourinho's desire for victory hadn't diminished with age.
But time was something no one could resist.
Mourinho had grown older, no longer the young man he once was.
Take last night's incident with the Liverpool fans setting off fireworks, for example.
Ten years ago, Mourinho wouldn't have been affected at all—he might have even stayed up all night analyzing tactics.
Now, he could only catch up on sleep in the morning.
"Ling, we need to score at least three goals. Do you really think there's hope?" Rashford suddenly spoke up.
It wasn't just him who had doubts, the other players did too.
After all, their opponent was Liverpool, a centuries-old rival.
Just how strong was Liverpool? Your greatest enemy knows you best.
The Manchester United players had a clear understanding in their hearts—they knew Liverpool's strength and their own level.
In matches between strong teams, the scoreline is rarely exaggerated.
It's common to see no goals, one or two goals are possible, but more than three goals is rare.
Ling chewed the broccoli and swallowed it, smiling as he looked at his teammates at the dining table.
"Do you want to hear the rational or the emotional take?"
"Of course, the rational one!" Maguire immediately replied.
As professional players, they naturally lean toward rationality.
What they wanted to know was whether Manchester United truly had a chance to achieve it, not mindless motivational slogans like "You can do it" or "We're the strongest."
Upon hearing this, Ling nodded and pulled out a tactical board from his bag.
"The boss has already outlined the tactics. Liverpool's right flank is weak. Whether Liverpool starts Milner or Arnold, they'll struggle to withstand our attacks. This isn't arrogance on my part—it's a conclusion drawn from dozens of matches. We just need to concentrate our attacking resources on the left flank to create clear dominance over Liverpool's right side."
"Let's start with Arnold. From what I've observed, he tends to neglect situational awareness, often reacting only when the ball is already in front of him. Previously, it was only through Van Dijk's guidance and compensating with attacks on the same side that they barely avoided major issues."
Ling picked up a marker and drew a circle in the half-space, recalling his study notes.
Then he shifted his tone.
"But—these minor flaws in their defensive system will be magnified endlessly in a top-tier matchup."
"Now, let's talk about Liverpool's second problem. Insufficient midfield control. Henderson, Wijnaldum, and Milner are all workhorse midfielders, and Keita hasn't been able to replicate his Bundesliga form. Although Fabinho is gradually finding his rhythm, he can't handle the pressure of being a lone defensive midfielder."
A look of excitement crossed Ling's face.
A few days ago, Mourinho had discussed tactics with him, proposing to overwhelm Liverpool's right flank and then coordinate with the midfield to press Fabinho.
From point to surface.
Causing Liverpool's defensive system to collapse like an avalanche!
This is the charm of football tactics.
Though it may sound dull, it possesses a unique allure.
Unlike Guardiola's pursuit of precise passing and match control, Mourinho's football philosophy focuses more on the overall rhythm of the game, exploiting the opponent's weaknesses with relentless attacks to force them to expose their vulnerabilities.
Watching Ling speak so confidently, Faria couldn't hide his admiration.
He thought to himself that the boss's tactical philosophy had been mostly absorbed by Ling.
'This kid would surely become an excellent head coach in the future.'
Unfortunately, someone missed the point!
Maguire looked puzzled and said, "You've talked so much about attacking strategies, but what should we do defensively?"
Ling: "..."
He took a deep breath and patiently explained, "Offense and defense in football are closely linked. Liverpool's main attacking methods currently are pressing high up the pitch or playing long passes from the back, relying on their forwards for counterattacks and overlapping fullbacks for crosses."
"As long as we can dominate their flanks, forcing Salah and Mane to drop back and defend, what we need to worry about is Liverpool's counterattacks. However, due to Liverpool's lack of numbers in attack, we'll have enough time to react." Ling looked at Maguire. "Do you still lack confidence in defending against them?"
"Oh, I'm invincible in one-on-one defending, just watch me perform!" Maguire scratched his large head.
Ling ignored this joker and went to discuss tactics with Pogba.
Liverpool's midfield was built for physical combat and impact, making it difficult to play out from the back during settled possession phases.
This required Manchester United players to intensify their pressing in the forward areas.
Therefore, Pogba's role was extremely important.
"Don't worry, my fitness is excellent!" Pogba patted his chest in assurance.
Last time, his mistake had allowed Liverpool to score a goal and he still felt guilty about it.
Fortunately, he had a chance to make amends and naturally wouldn't repeat the same error.
Breakfast had effectively turned into a tactical seminar.
Mourinho stood outside the dining room door, listening to Ling's voice, and couldn't help but let out a long sigh.
Truthfully, he had never felt old.
But every time he saw Ling, he couldn't help but feel emotional.
...
As the sun rose and set, until the sky was dyed red, Liverpool grew noisy.
Although the away ticket allocation was only two thousand, the number of Manchester United fans who had come to the scene had to be counted in the tens of thousands.
After all, Liverpool wasn't far from Manchester; taking the highway took less than an hour.
Compared to the Premier League's North West Derby, the Champions League Semi-final's North West Derby was even more intense.
Conflict incidents were frequently seen around Anfield.
English football hooligans.
Though cowardly externally, they were tough internally!
Can't beat the Russian fans, but can't beat you lot? Insults, brawls... various conflicts occurred frequently.
At that moment, a fan channel was interviewing Liverpool fans about their views on tonight's match.
"It's already 3-1, you Manchunian bastards, you're already out!"
"Hurry up and crawl back to Manchester!"
"If the country bumpkins from Manchester want to see a real Champions League trophy, they can go to the museum at Anfield!"
"You'd better wash up and go to bed early, don't hold any expectations. Maybe tomorrow morning you'll see in the papers the pitiful sight of Manchester United's number seven wiping his nose and crying!"
"Oh—where is Manchester United's number seven, we can't see you!"
With that, that group of Liverpool fans linked arms and walked away, loudly singing a composed chant.
...
Inside Anfield stadium at that moment.
Ling was warming up and training with his teammates.
Players from both teams occupied half the pitch each, with no communication or conflict.
However, beneath this eerie calm lay a volcano about to erupt.
This match would be intense.
No one doubted that, because no one wanted to lose.
But psychologically, the Liverpool players were more relaxed.
Not only did they lead by two goals, but they also held home advantage.
Favorable timing, geographical advantage, and popular support... they had it all.
How could they lose this one?
That was the Liverpool fans' mindset.
"Anfield's pitch is so slippery, I feel like I could skate on it!" Mahrez complained.
"Who told it to drizzle today? Put more power into your passes." Ling was also helpless.
For football matches, a wet and slippery pitch had a significant impact.
Not only could it lead to passing errors, but players might also slip when making movements.
Even basic mistakes could occur.
"If only we were playing Barcelona today." Lukaku looked up at the sky and sighed.
He was the starting center-forward today.
It's fine when you don't play, but when you do, you run straight into the top card.
Van Dijk hasn't been beaten one-on-one by any other player since joining Liverpool.
Oh, except for Ling.
Now, having to face the current strongest center-back in the Premier League, and even in Europe, the mental pressure feels heavier than a small mountain!
"What's wrong, have you learned from Scott too, sighing all day long?" Mahrez tapped Lukaku on the head.
"It's not like you have to go head-to-head with Van Dijk. You just need to disrupt Liverpool's defense. The real attack will be launched by us."
This season, Lukaku has rarely started, so expecting him to perform exceptionally well isn't realistic.
Mourinho said before the match that Lukaku would only serve as a decoy, with Manchester United's real weapons being the wings and the midfielders pushing forward.
"The pre-match press conference is about to start. Finish your warm-up and head back to the locker room. Don't get caught in the rain and affect your condition."
After reminding his teammates, Ling followed the staff and left.
When he arrived at the conference room, the reporters and press officer were already in place.
He casually took a seat next to Mourinho.
"Regarding tonight's match, the outside world believes you have no chance. Even the relevant agencies have set the odds at 13.26. What do you have to say about that?" A reporter from The Guardian asked.
Mourinho gestured for Ling to answer.
Ling picked up the microphone and said with a light laugh, "The betting market hasn't closed yet. You could place a big bet and maybe become a millionaire by tomorrow."
"Of course, that was a joke. What I really want to say is—even if others have no confidence in us, we firmly believe we can defeat Liverpool and advance to the Champions League final from Anfield."
Mourinho nodded in satisfaction.
As a football player, the first thing is to have confidence in yourself.
If you say things like "it's difficult" or "the chances are slim" in a pre-match press conference, regardless of what the fans think, how should your teammates respond?
Just because the odds are slim, does that mean losing the match is acceptable? If everyone makes excuses for themselves in advance, they won't feel too sad or guilty in the future.
But with that kind of mindset, you'll never achieve anything great.
Mourinho took the microphone and added, "We know Liverpool are strong. Scoring three goals against them is difficult. But in Manchester United's dictionary, there is no such word as 'give up.' The Red Devils' history is filled with many incredible things, and I believe tonight will add one more."
Ling glanced at the boss out of the corner of his eye. Although Mourinho's hair was white, his spirit remained sharp.
That sharpness gave people a sense of security.
"Alright, another question. Ling, on the Champions League top scorers list, Messi currently ranks first with 12 goals, one ahead of you. How many goals do you think you can score today?" Another reporter asked.
Ling shook his head. "I also pursue personal stats and want to score more goals, but I want victory in the match even more. In such a difficult situation now, I think everyone at Manchester United, including myself, will set aside personal interests and contribute to making the team stronger."
This wasn't an attempt to please the fans or the media—it was Ling's genuine belief.
Although heroism is what captures the most attention in football, the essential and core aspect of the game is still the team, the team, the team.
Nothing that deviates from the team holds any meaning.
The feeling of fighting alongside teammates and turning hope into reality is more captivating than scoring a hundred goals.
At least, that's what Jeremy Ling believed.
What would happen if he were to stubbornly compete with Messi for the Golden Boot? Constantly demanding the ball during matches, choosing to shoot even when teammates had opportunities— That would be madness.
"Alright, do you have any final words for the Manchester United fans?" The press officer glanced at the time, urging the reporter to wrap up the questions.
"Well, our boss has a nickname—the Special One! I hope he can show a bit of that magic today and help us defeat Liverpool to advance to the final."
Ling blinked.
He felt the pre-match atmosphere was too tense, and it was time to lighten the mood with a joke!
Mourinho looked at Ling with a gratified smile.
"As long as you're filled with determination for victory and belief, I think everyone can have magic. I'm looking forward to tonight's match more and more."