Cup matches or midweek league gas are typically held in the evening, as most fans are at work during the day. By the ti Richard arrived at Sincil Bank, night had already fallen, and the stadium was alive with energy, buzzing with the anticipation of another big ga.
Lincoln City Football Club, based in Lincoln, Lincolnshire, is a proud English association football club with a long and storied history. Since joining the Football League in 1892, the Imps have spent 36 seasons in the second tier, 35 in the third, 40 in the fourth, and 10 seasons competing in non-League football.
After the high of the Liverpool victory, the coaching staff ensured the players remained focused.
Lincoln City was a Division Three club, not the one struggling in 21st place. This wasn’t a ti for celebration—this was a ti to dominate.
The 4-5-1 formation was used because City was in a real striker crisis, with only Ronaldo and Shevchenko available after Larsson’s injury. To maintain balance, the midfield was packed, with Ronaldo as the lone striker up front.
Unexpectedly, the one who truly went wild this ti wasn’t Ronaldo or the trump card Pirlo—it was Joan Capdevila.
His style may differ from City’s forr star Roberto Carlos, but on this night, Capdevila finally showed why his recruitnt mattered.
The match was barely six minutes old when the breakthrough ca.
After intercepting a loose pass near the halfway line, Joan Capdevila wasted no ti. He surged forward with purpose, his eyes scanning the field as the Lincoln midfield scrambled to reorganize. Spotting Jackie McNamara drifting into space, Capdevila slipped a perfectly weighted low pass to him before imdiately darting on an overlapping run down the left.
McNamara waited a split second before returning the ball into Capdevila’s path with a simple through pass.
Capdevila didn’t hesitate—he whipped a low cross between the center-backs, threading the needle into the heart of the box.
And there was Ronaldo.
In classic fashion, the striker tid his run to perfection, ghosting between defenders. One touch was all he needed. He calmly slotted the ball past the onrushing keeper and into the bottom corner. Clinical. Ruthless. 1–0.
First assist.
Pinned in their own half, Lincoln City sohow launched a swift counterattack. Their midfielder, John Vaughan, spotted space and delivered a precise through ball to Colin Alcide, who broke free and charged toward the near post.
With only Gianluigi Buffon to beat, Alcide fired a low, powerful shot aid at the bottom corner. But Buffon was ready.
Reading the danger early, the keeper exploded off his line. In one smooth, cat-like motion, he closed down the angle, spread his body wide, and extended a strong left leg just in ti to block the shot.
The ball ricocheted off his shin and spun away from goal, drawing gasps from the crowd.
Gallas won the ball back and quickly shifted it left. Capdevila picked it up near the touchline and imdiately switched gears.
Two Lincoln City players had already noticed the threat and began closing in fast.
Normally, a player in his position might hesitate—maybe play it safe, look for a pass, recycle possession. But Capdevila had other plans.
The two Lincoln players, although pressuring, were slightly misaligned—close enough to feel secure, but far enough to leave a sliver of space between them. Capdevila lowered his upper body, narrowed his eyes, and then, without a hint of hesitation, poked the ball straight between them.
Both Lincoln players were montarily caught off guard, their eyes following the ball as it zipped through the gap between them. Unknowingly, they had given Capdevila exactly what he needed—space and a mont of distraction.
By the ti they turned back to locate their man, he was already gone.
He had curved his run, bending around the midfield line like a bullet on rails, devouring ground with long, powerful strides.
The crowd at Sincil Bank rose in unison—half in disbelief, half in awe—as the Spanish full-back tore down the flank like a man possessed.
Capdevila scampered away like the Roadrunner from Looney Tunes, leaving defenders in his dust. What happened next would be etched into mory.
As he approached the edge of the box, without breaking stride, he chipped a perfectly weighted diagonal ball over the back line. It hung in the air just long enough for one man to arrive.
Ronaldo.
Positioned flawlessly between the center-backs, he t the ball with a thunderous left-footed volley. The net rippled. The crowd erupted.
Second assist for Capdevila, and a second goal for Ronaldo.
For the rest of the first half, as City began to assert control over possession and tempo, Capdevila grew more adventurous.
The left flank beca his runway. With Jackie McNamara and Theodoros Zagorakis drifting inward to overload the midfield, Capdevila seized the freedom of the wide channel.
Then ca the mont in the 45th minute—a sequence that nearly broke the ga open.
Capdevila tid his run perfectly, bursting forward just as Lampard spotted the gap. With a sweeping diagonal pass, Lampard threaded the ball behind Lincoln’s left-back. Capdevila t it in full stride, surging into the final third.
Without hesitation, he drilled a low, skimming cross across the face of goal. The ball had danger written all over it—fast, flat, and unpredictable.
Lincoln’s goalkeeper managed to get a hand to it, diving low to his right and parrying it just outside the six-yard box. But the danger wasn’t over.
Neil Lennon had anticipated it all along.
Lurking at the edge of the box, he reacted quicker than anyone. As the ball deflected out into his path, he adjusted his body and struck it first-ti with his weaker right foot.
The shot wasn’t thunderous, but it was clever—angled low and away from the recovering defenders. It slipped through the crowded box, beating the keeper who was still on the ground.
GOAL.
City had tripled their lead just seconds before the halfti whistle.
"Good job," Walford said from the side of the pitch, giving Capdevila a pat on the shoulder. Even he looked stunned by the full-back’s performance.
The whistle blew to begin the second half, but Lincoln City were already playing catch-up—chasing shadows and three goals behind. Whatever words their manager had delivered at halfti seed to vanish the mont the ball was back in play.
This ti, Lincoln relied on counter-attacks, hoping that Colin Alcide could break through City’s disciplined defense.
Early on, they looked to exploit the flanks through quick counters led by Alcide and John Vaughan, but Capdevila read their intentions superbly. He tracked the runs tightly, stayed compact alongside the center-backs, and never overcommitted. His positioning shut down passing lanes and frustrated Lincoln’s attempts to stretch the play.
Standing at 182 cm, Capdevila’s solid fra allowed him to contribute physically as well. At tis, he tucked in as an auxiliary center-back, supporting Gallas and Ferdinand when needed. Every Lincoln long ball was neutralized by City’s back four, whose aerial balance and communication were near perfect.
Together, they effectively isolated Colin Alcide, cutting off service and rendering Lincoln’s counters completely ineffective.
Failed once—tried again.Failed twice—still pushing.Failed a third ti—frustration mounting.Failed a fourth—and now doubt began to creep in.
The opposing team looked completely broken.
City capitalized on this, and next up was Capdevila—giving Usain Bolt a run for his money on the night.
He and Zambrotta, on the left and right flanks respectively, were sprinting up and down the pitch relentlessly, leaving Lincoln’s left and right sides completely overwheld.
In the 53rd minute, Ronaldo completed his hat-trick with the simplest of finishes—a tap-in at the far post.
Gianluca Zambrotta combined beautifully down the right, exchanging quick passes before drilling a low cross across the face of goal. Ronaldo danced past two defenders before burying a shot into the bottom corner.
Lincoln City 0 - 4 Manchester City
The crowd erupted as the ball hit the back of the net.
He wheeled away in celebration, arms wide, soaking in the applause. A hat-trick—mission complete.
Monts later, he was subbed off to a standing ovation, replaced by Andriy Shevchenko.Zambrotta, who had just delivered a brilliant assist, was also withdrawn—replaced by Steve Finnan to shore up the defense and inject fresh legs into the backline.
City weren’t letting up. With Lincoln in disarray, the attacks kept coming in waves.
71st Minute – 5-0!
This ti, it was Capdevila again who initiated the move. He evaded a tired challenge before releasing a pinpoint diagonal pass that split the defense.
The ball landed perfectly in the path of Shevchenko, who took one touch to steady himself and then rifled a low shot past the keeper at the near post.
Goal. The Ukrainian’s second of the match. 5–0.
Another mont of brilliance sparked by Capdevila—his third assist of the night.
If Lincoln had any fight left, it faded here.
88th Minute – 6-0!
Following a scrappy midfield battle, Mark van Boml ca away with the loose ball. He looked up, then slid a simple pass toward Andrea Pirlo, who until now had struggled to impose himself in his new, slightly more deeper role.
But this ti, Pirlo made it count.
Rather than resetting the play or slowing it down, he spotted Joan Capdevila making a darting, unexpected run through the right channel. Without hesitation, Pirlo released a perfectly weighted pass into Capdevila’s stride.
Capdevila, showing no signs of fatigue despite his tireless night, took a single touch before sending a looping, delicate ball over Lincoln’s backline with surgical precision.
The pass fell beautifully into the path of Jackie McNamara, who had tid his run to perfection. Sprinting between the centre-backs, he slipped into the blind spot behind the defensive line.
The ball hung in the air for a split second—just enough ti for McNamara to rise.
He leapt into the mont with everything he had, eyes locked on the flight of the ball. Twisting his body mid-air, he t it cleanly with his forehead, launching a powerful header toward goal.
Thud.The connection was perfect.
The keeper could only watch as the ball rocketed into the top corner—a header that was as brave as it was brilliant. McNamara crashed to the ground on landing, but the roar of the crowd told him all he needed to know.
Goal.Not just any goal—a heroic finish from a midfield warrior.
As teammates rushed to celebrate, McNamara rose to his feet, fist clenched, eyes blazing.
6–0.
A complete dismantling.
Another assist for Capdevila—his fourth of the night—and another clear sign that the Spaniard wasn’t just providing assists.
He was sending a ssage.
He was ready.
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