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"Arsenal have clearly read Liverpool's approach—they're putting all their focus on the command tower, Leo Lin."
"Wilshere and Xhaka are constantly adjusting their positions, doing everything they can to deny Leo Lin the ball."
Leo Lin kept moving relentlessly, trying to shake free through sheer work rate and find space to receive a pass.
But Wilshere and Xhaka flanked him from either side, sticking tight and refusing to give him even a yard.
Xhaka, in particular, looked almost possessed.
If Arsenal wanted any chance of a coback, they had to win the ball back first.
And right now, possession was firmly under Leo Lin's control.
Step by step, cut by cut—his dribbling wasn't delicate, but with explosive bursts and sheer physical strength shielding the ball, Leo Lin repeatedly prevented Xhaka from making a clean tackle.
"Now this… Leo Lin's current style of play is very tempting," Jim Beglin observed, watching Xhaka constantly reaching in but never quite managing to win it.
72nd minute!
"Liverpool once again pushing forward through Leo Lin, with Lucas and Henderson offering protection on either side."
"Xhaka steps in again for a front-on challenge—another collision between the two!"
This ti Xhaka defended cautiously, staying on his feet, eyes locked on Leo Lin's touch instead of diving in.
Leo Lin carried the ball forward, nudging it with the outside of his boot while scanning his options out of the corner of his eye.
He deliberately drove to the right—then suddenly dragged the ball back, spun, and cut sharply left!
Two rapid feints in succession—space opened instantly!
Xhaka was nearly beaten by the first move; by the second, he had completely lost his defensive position.
Wilshere sprinted back just in ti, grabbing and hauling Leo Lin down to stop his run.
The referee rushed over and imdiately showed Wilshere another yellow card.
Liverpool fans burst into laughter—the foul had looked embarrassingly desperate.
Across the livestream platforms, Liverpool supporters flooded the screen with comnts:
"Arsenal are finished—the trophy is already ours!"
"Our first title of the season is just over 20 minutes away!"
"This is the Liverpool we've been waiting for!"
"Lin is a monster. An absolute monster. His talent is overflowing!"
"He feels like Zidane fused with Ronaldo, with a bit of Drogba… and a sprinkle of cumin. No chili, thanks."
Liverpool fans were in full celebration mode already, so even imagining the trophy presentation.
On the pitch, Liverpool continued to press Arsenal relentlessly, giving them no breathing room.
Klopp was deep in discussion with Krawietz.
"Should we slow it down a bit? We're the ones in front," Krawietz suggested. Despite Liverpool's dominance, he worried Arsenal might snatch a goal from a single counterattack.
Against a team like Arsenal, one counterattack could be enough.
The comntary grew more and more animated.
"Liverpool coming again—down the right!"
"Arnold pushes forward to receive, Salah offering support—nice little combination."
"Back to Arnold—early cross from the flank!"
"Mané at the far post—slides in!"
"Koscielny blocks it! That could have been the ga!"
...
"Wilshere tries to launch a counterattack—Lucas with the tackle!"
"Brilliant tackle!"
"Through ball to Mané on the left—he pushes it on for Robertson!"
"Liverpool's two flanks are in full flight—this is superb football!"
"Robertson to the byline—cross cos in, dangerous area!"
"Firmino in the middle!"
"Glancing header!"
"Cech gets a palm to it and tips it over the bar!"
"Outstanding save!"
"Liverpool's attacks are coming in waves—each one heavier than the last."
"How much longer can Arsenal endure? For them, every remaining second feels agonizing."
"They're trailing, yet they can't even find space to counter."
If anyone was suffering, it was the Arsenal supporters.
Behind on the scoreboard, powerless to change it, yet forced to watch every final minute tick by.
80th minute.
Klopp made a change—Emre Can replaced Lucas. At the sa ti, he pressed both hands downward, signaling his team to calm things and manage the tempo. The plan was clear: see out the final ten minutes.
Even with the pace slightly reduced, the rhythm remained firmly under Liverpool's control. Arsenal still struggled to win the ball.
85th minute.
Salah burst forward, cut inside, and fired—blocked by Monreal. Another corner for Liverpool from the right!
Inside Wembley, the roar belonged almost entirely to the Liverpool supporters.
They punched the air in delight.
"Salah wins a corner! Look at those Liverpool fans—they're losing their minds!"
"Everything is unfolding perfectly for Liverpool."
For the corner, Leo Lin stayed back.
Liverpool's center backs, the aerial threats, pushed up into the box.
Emre Can, Arnold, and Henderson stationed themselves around the halfway line for protection, while Leo Lin lingered deepest, acting as the final shield.
Four players positioned around midfield, two guarding the edge of the box, three attacking inside the area, and one delivering the corner—an efficient and balanced setup.
Even if Arsenal broke forward, the two at the edge of the box could delay the move, buying ti for the others to recover and form layers of defense.
Salah swung the corner toward the near post—Monreal flicked it away with a header!
Ramsey, back to goal, held off Henderson, spun, and imdiately launched a long pass toward the left flank!
Sanchez exploded into motion, legs pumping as he surged forward!
Wenger leapt to his feet on the touchline—his carefully rehearsed corner counterattack was finally unfolding.
In an instant, the situation turned dangerous.
Iwobi and Lacazette sprinted into Liverpool's half at full speed.
They burst past Henderson and Emre Can. Three seconds later, Sanchez collected the ball on the right and charged toward Liverpool's penalty area.
Lacazette and Iwobi stord through the middle.
Three rapid attackers, accelerating together.
Ahead of them stood only one man.
Leo Lin.
Jon Champion's voice rang out, electric with tension:
"Three against one!"
"Arsenal break—three against one!"
Mignolet started to rush off his line, but after just two steps, Leo Lin—retreating while facing the attackers—threw out a hand, signaling him back.
"Leo…" Mignolet called anxiously.
But Leo Lin cut him off.
"Don't panic!"
"I've got this!"
...
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