"The faces of Chelsea fans on the live broadcast are filled with disappointment. In fact, ever since Round 18 this season, fans have been questioning Conte's tactics."
"When he first took over the team, Conte still used more complex passing combinations, but as their title hopes slipped away, his approach has become much simpler."
"It's mostly long balls now. These long balls carry almost no threat. They might work against weaker opponents, but against stronger sides, they're completely ineffective."
The broadcast repeatedly cut to Conte on the sidelines, with constant rumors suggesting Chelsea would sack him at the end of the season.
"There have also been reports recently of tensions between Conte and Chelsea chairman Abramovich, with Conte believing Abramovich hasn't given him the players he wants."
"But the players Conte wants are actually a bit unusual. He always prefers older, tall strikers. He likes veterans, and if they're not old, he's not interested."
"Players like Giroud and Dzeko are exactly his type."
As they spoke, the final minutes of the first half ticked away. Both teams headed back to the locker room, with Liverpool leading 1-0.
None of the major broadcasters expected such a crucial match for Liverpool to go this smoothly.
In the Sky Sports commentary booth, Pelé was still present.
Sitting beside him was Gerrard, eagerly anticipating Pelé's analysis, knowing that Pelé was a fan of Leo Lin.
If he liked Leo Lin, then he would naturally like Liverpool, and that meant he and Gerrard were on the same side.
"Excellent. Absolutely outstanding."
"I ran through countless scenarios before the match, but I never imagined it would be this smooth."
"Liverpool absolutely have the quality to win the Premier League. In this match, they've gone all out and pinned Chelsea back with relentless attacking pressure."
Almost no commentator or fan expected the game to tilt so completely in Liverpool's favor. Chelsea looked utterly unprepared to deal with them.
Back in the locker room, Conte continued to stress long balls. He kept trying to use Giroud as a target man to break through Liverpool's defense.
"Sir, but Lovren and Matip are constantly double-teaming me. They're not giving me any space to act as a target man."
Giroud voiced his concern. He wanted to combine with Hazard, but he simply couldn't make it happen.
Conte decided to make a substitution, bringing on winger Willian to replace right-back Moses.
"After the second half starts, Marcos Alonso will drop back into left-back, and we'll switch to a 4-3-3 formation."
"Hazard goes to the left, Willian on the right, Giroud in the center. At the same time, we shift from central long balls to deliveries from the wings, using wide play to create space."
Conte adjusted his tactics, hoping to move the battle to the flanks, though the core idea remained long-ball counterattacks.
On the other side, Liverpool made no substitutions. Klopp was very satisfied with the team's performance.
"No problems at all, lads. Keep playing exactly like this."
"Same as before, we press high and push up. Don't give them any time or space to breathe."
"Remember, we move as one. No exceptions."
"Everything must follow the tactical plan. If we push up, we push up together. If we defend, we defend together."
"If anyone falls out of sync and disrupts the team's rhythm, I'll take you off. I mean it."
After finishing his instructions, Klopp sat down beside Leo Lin and gave his thigh a pat.
He had nothing more to say to him. He knew that as long as Leo Lin was on the pitch, he would deliver.
"In the second half, show them just how good you are. Don't give them a second to breathe."
"Just 45 minutes left, Lin. Just 45 minutes, and we make history."
"This will be the club's first-ever Premier League trophy!"
Klopp was usually composed in front of most players, but with Leo Lin, he didn't hold back his emotions.
Leo Lin took deep breaths, forcing himself to stay calm, deliberately pushing aside thoughts of lifting the Premier League trophy. There were still 45 minutes left to fight.
Inside Anfield, no fans were lining up for hot dogs, except for Barnett's assistant.
Barnett and Delores were once again in the stands, enjoying hot dogs and coffee.
"Come on, Delores, today's a big day."
"Leo Lin could be crowned a treble winner. Let me have one beer. Just one."
Barnett usually enjoyed a drink, but Delores had him on strict control. It wasn't that she wouldn't let him drink. A checkup the previous week showed his liver function had declined again.
The doctor had strictly warned him to stop drinking entirely, so Delores had firmly taken on the role of keeping him sober.
"If you dare take even a sip, we're sleeping in separate beds from now on."
That was her ultimate weapon. Barnett immediately behaved.
"But do you think Liverpool can hold on in the second half?"
Barnett nodded, confidence written all over his face.
"You're asking the wrong question. You should be asking whether Chelsea can hold on. Liverpool are the ones in control, especially with Lin on the pitch."
Barnett crossed his legs, relaxed and at ease.
"With Lin here."
"No surprises."
Moments later, the second half kicked off.
"A long ball from the back, sent down the flank looking for Willian."
"Willian's pace is electric. He controls it and faces Robertson one-on-one."
"He drives hard to the byline, but Robertson tracks back and knocks it out for a throw."
"Excellent defending."
"Chelsea are still trying to break Liverpool's defense with long-ball counterattacks, shifting the play out wide."
"But Robertson and Arnold are both in outstanding form today, and Henderson is tirelessly covering the flanks. Liverpool's midfield and back line have been superb."
57th minute.
Another long ball from the back.
A big clearance toward the left aimed at Hazard, but Henderson gets there first, flicking a header into the center.
Kanté charges in immediately, but Leo Lin holds his ground, cushions the ball with his chest, and powers past Kanté with a half-turn.
His physical dominance is on full display. The human tank explodes forward.
"Leo Lin drives through the center."
"He's off. Kanté can't catch him."
"Bakayoko comes across, Fabregas tracks back from the right. Three men closing in."
"Chelsea have formed a tight ring in the middle."
Kanté suddenly recalls Conte's instructions. The three-man block instantly shifts toward Leo Lin's right side, aiming to shut down his right foot.
Leo Lin had started dribbling with his right foot, but it quickly felt awkward.
With Kanté constantly pressuring from that side, Leo Lin cuts the ball across, switches to his left foot, and glides into a smooth inward cut.
A brilliant left-footed cut inside, nutmegging Bakayoko.
Bakayoko instinctively snaps his legs shut, but the ball still slips through.
In the next instant, Leo Lin explodes forward. His right foot plants as the support, his left leg swings through the air, ankle locked tight.
His entire left leg smashes through like a battering ram against a city gate, striking the ball cleanly.
Bang.
A long-range strike from the edge of the penalty arc.
On the sidelines, Conte stares at the ball as it streaks forward like a meteor, his eyes suddenly going blank.
"Huh?"
"Left…"
"His left foot?"
...
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