"One side is Manchester United, fighting for the league title and unable to afford even the slightest slip-up. The other is Chelsea, battling to secure a top-six finish and a place in Europe."
"In terms of the starting lineups, Chelsea rested several key players in the Europa League, clearly keeping them fresh for today's match."
"As for Manchester United, they have only just co through that top-of-the-table clash with Manchester City. With just three days between fixtures, there's no way they've fully recovered to peak condition."
"So, from a fitness perspective, Chelsea do have a slight advantage."
"However, Chelsea have been troubled by internal problems recently, with several players refusing to renew their contracts. Add in the uncertainty surrounding Sarri's future, and their performances have clearly been on the decline."
No matter how he looked at it, Neville remained very confident about Manchester United's chances of winning this match.
Carragher, seated beside him in the comntary box, added, "Today, we've also invited Frank Lampard to join us. According to Chelsea's official announcent, he will take over as Chelsea manager next season."
"Frank, what are your thoughts on today's match?"
Lampard straightened his collar and greeted the cara.
"Chelsea have to be brave enough to acknowledge the gap between the two teams, but that doesn't an they have no chance. If they can lock down the defensive spaces properly and stop Manchester United's number 7 from finding room to operate..."
Lampard spoke confidently for five full minutes.
Although he had only managed a Championship side so far, he clearly considered himself a world-class manager.
Moreover, Lampard had already signed a three-year contract with Chelsea.
That ant he was not being brought in as a temporary fix. He was expected to lead Chelsea back onto the right track.
As for why Abramovich had chosen him?
As a Chelsea legend, Lampard could use his reputation, seniority, and personal charisma to stabilize a turbulent dressing room, much like Zidane had done.
"Right, let's take a look at the starting lineups for both sides."
Seeing that the match was about to begin, and with Lampard finally finished, Neville quickly brought the discussion back to the main topic.
"Chelsea line up in their usual 4-3-3. It seems Sarri doesn't know how to use anything else. Kepa starts in goal."
"The back four: Marcos Alonso, Christensen, Rüdiger, and Azpilicueta."
"In midfield: Kovačić, Jorginho, and Barkley."
"And the front three: Hazard, Higuaín, and Willian."
"Kovačić and Higuaín, both signed during the winter transfer window, start today. The forr has been quite impressive at Chelsea and has already beco one of Sarri's trusted players."
"The latter, however, still doesn't seem to have adapted to the Premier League. He has been making frequent mistakes under high-intensity pressure and is currently enduring an eight-ga goal drought."
"As for Manchester United, their lineup is very similar to the one that faced Manchester City, with Valencia coming in at right-back and Ling partnering Rashford in attack."
After briefly introducing the lineups, Neville lowered his gaze toward the green pitch.
"Be careful with the defensive positioning at the back. Don't let Manchester United's number 7 receive the ball easily!"
Azpilicueta reminded Rüdiger.
Rüdiger's expression imdiately turned sour.
In the previous match against Manchester United, he had even resorted to dark arts, using armpit-sniffing defending.
But that move had not been very effective against Ling.
First, Ling's explosive speed was terrifying. He could shake off Rüdiger by half a body length in the blink of an eye.
Second, Ling's dribbling was incredibly refined.
Just thinking about those realistic feints made Rüdiger's hair stand on end.
"Christensen, cover the space behind on the left. I'll deliberately leave that side open. He'll definitely try to break through there."
Rüdiger suddenly ca up with what he believed was a brilliant idea.
"As long as we ti the tackle properly, we can definitely intercept the ball."
Christensen grumbled in response, "Alright."
What was his nickna?
The King of Blunders.
His biggest flaw was watching the ball instead of the man.
Asking him to coordinate with Rüdiger for a tid tackle and interception...
Even Christensen himself did not have much confidence in it.
But he could not refuse Rüdiger either. After all, on paper, it was at least a reasonable plan.
On the other side, in Manchester United's half.
Ling motioned toward Christensen with his chin.
"Later, target Chelsea's left centre-back when we break through."
"Ling's right. That guy is terrible!" David Luiz nodded in agreent.
If not for his conflict with Conte back then, would Christensen ever have got the starting spot?
BEEP!
Once both teams were ready, the referee blew the whistle to start the match.
Chelsea had possession.
Higuaín passed the ball back to Jorginho, and after a few quick exchanges, it reached Christensen's feet.
He had planned to send a long pass forward once Manchester United pressed, but when he looked up, he was montarily stunned.
Because Manchester United's formation was holding firm in midfield.
There was only one Guardiola in the world. Did Chelsea really think anyone could play possession football like that?
Chelsea's attacking patterns were simple.
Either the right-back pushed forward, or they relied on short combinations down the left flank.
After probing a few tis and finding Manchester United unmoved, Chelsea had no choice but to stick to their original approach.
Kovačić received a pass from Jorginho and, facing his forr club, showed no hesitation. With confidence, he began to organize the attack.
Ling slowly drifted around the attacking third, ready to support his teammates on the counter at any mont.
His tactical importance was very high now. Unless they were facing a side like Manchester City, he rarely needed to drop deep defensively.
But he still could not slack off when pressing in the attacking third.
After all, trying to imitate ssi's style of play would feel completely unnatural to him.
Ander Herrera subtly gestured behind his back, signaling Kanté to cover for him, then charged fiercely toward Kovačić.
As Modrić's successor, Kovačić was certainly a capable player.
He first shifted left, then pushed the ball back the other way, creating space with a simple movent before delivering a precise diagonal through ball.
The ball skimd across the grass, speeding toward Higuaín.
It had to be said, El Pipita really did have rotten luck.
He had been doing just fine at Juventus, but then he had to make way for Cristiano Ronaldo, first being loaned to AC Milan and then to Chelsea.
Back at Real Madrid, it had been the sa story.
Not only had he been forced to give up shooting opportunities to Ronaldo, but Ronaldo had even shoved him aside during a one-on-one chance.
He thought things might be better with the national team.
But what happened?
He ended up shouldering countless waves of criticism.
Sure, missing three one-on-one chances in three finals was a fact. There was no arguing with that.
But what about the numbers?
Across six World Cup and Copa América tournants, he had scored twelve goals, even more than ssi.
You could say Argentina would have struggled to reach those finals without him.
Yet people only rembered the chances he missed, claiming he owed ssi several major trophies.
In the end, he was even driven to retire from the national team and deactivate his social dia accounts, yet he still could not escape being treated as the scapegoat.
Take the 2018 Russia World Cup, for example.
Due to a lack of depth in Argentina's forward line, they lost 3–4 to France and were eliminated in the Round of 16.
And Argentine fans were still blaming him for leaving the national team.
With all these negative factors piling up, Higuaín's form had beco unusually poor.
So this ti, he did not actively drop back to receive the ball, allowing Kanté to anticipate the pass and intercept it early.
Attack and defense switched instantly on the green pitch.
Manchester United launched a counterattack down the sa flank.
Kanté passed the ball to Valencia, who had overlapped on the wing.
Today, he was once again wearing the captain's armband.
Because he had already announced that he would leave Manchester United at the end of the season.
From assisting Berbatov and Rooney, to Van Persie and Chicharito, and now to Rashford and Ling.
All he would leave behind at the Red Devils were mories.
A one-two wall pass took him beyond Kovačić, then another explosive burst of speed carried him past Marcos Alonso.
But Marcos Alonso had the stronger physical attributes.
"Valencia stops sharply and cuts inside. That's the experienced choice."
"Because Valencia is a left-footed player, the quality of his crosses from the byline has never been his strongest weapon. Bringing the ball back inside and reorganizing through the middle makes far more sense."
"Wait—he hasn't gone into Pogba to recycle possession. He's gone long instead!"
The ball spun through the air at high speed toward the penalty area.
Manchester United players surged forward accordingly, occupying most of the space inside the box.
Chelsea's players, however, all turned their attention to Ling.
Kepa even shouted at the top of his lungs, "Don't let him jump! Get tight and disrupt him!"
But the ball's trajectory carried it toward the left side.
Rashford's movent was extrely clever. He waited until Rüdiger shifted toward Ling before making his run into the box.
By the ti Rüdiger reacted, it was already too late.
Thud!
Rashford did not even need to jump. From a standing position, he simply flicked his head and guided the ball toward goal.
"Kepa!"
Lampard exclaid, "What a reaction! He gets down sharply and claws it away with one hand!"
The ball bounced toward Pogba near the penalty spot.
Christensen instinctively rushed forward, but Rüdiger roared to stop him.
"Watch behind you!"
At that mont, Pogba gently nodded the ball on, flicking it toward Ling.
Kepa had just scrambled to his feet and imdiately threw himself into another desperate save.
But Ling remained frighteningly calm.
He paused his shooting motion for a split second, waiting until Kepa had committed to the dive before lashing the ball fiercely with his instep.
Swish!
With the crisp, beautiful sound of the net rippling, the ball bounced several tis inside the Chelsea goal before coming to rest.
The cheers at Old Trafford swelled instantly.
But the comntary box beca even livelier.
Neville had never liked Lampard much.
If one were to dig into the reason, it was probably because Lampard had a reputation for being notoriously promiscuous.
Chelsea a decade ago had been full of scandals.
Terry had an affair with his teammate Bridge's girlfriend, which ultimately led to an unplanned pregnancy.
Ashley Cole had five mistresses.
Lampard's girlfriends were no fewer than the number on his shirt.
Neville, on the other hand, was a deeply devoted man.
Although his wife had once been an ordinary shop assistant, that never diminished his love for her.
Neville once said, "I want all of London to rember the day we got married!"
An eight-hundred-year-old cathedral, a helicopter to transport the newlyweds, a massive diamond ring worth £170,000, and a live performance from a singer costing £100,000.
"Goal for Manchester United!"
"Old Trafford erupts! United strike first! After cutting out Chelsea's attack, Manchester United break down the very sa flank, and Valencia's long diagonal ball throws the Chelsea penalty area into complete chaos."
"And Ling is there to punish them! Look at the pause before the finish. That is ice-cold composure. He waits for Kepa to commit, then simply picks his mont and buries it."
Neville laughed heartily, glanced sideways at Lampard, and could not resist adding fuel to the fire.
"Did Chelsea really think they were coming to the Theatre of Dreams to win?"
"They're better off reminiscing about matches from a few years ago, because they won't be getting many chances like that in the future!"
...
On the pitch.
Facing the excited gazes of the Manchester United fans, Ling sprinted to the corner arc, leaped high, punched the air, and roared.
"Hey! Hey! Hey!"
Three deafening roars seed to make the entire stadium tremble.
Now, with every goal Ling scored, Manchester United moved one step closer to the championship, and that excitent spread through the hearts of every Red Devil in the stands.
"How about that? I told you Christensen watches the ball, not the man!"
David Luiz ran over to claim credit.
When he left Chelsea, he had been filled with anger and had long been itching for revenge.
Even though they had already beaten Chelsea several tis, he still felt it was far from enough.
It would be even better if they could make this one more humiliating.
"Let's keep targeting Christensen later!"
Ling showed no rcy either.
Since Chelsea had a weakness to exploit, they had to press it relentlessly.
"Don't forget to mark Hazard. He's still a threat."
Ander Herrera reminded them.
Kanté responded with a sincere smile.
"Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him."
While the Manchester United players discussed their tactics, the Chelsea players were already caught up in internal conflict.
Rüdiger shook his hand in frustration.
"I told you to watch Manchester United's number 7. How could you press up in that situation? I was right there to disrupt Pogba!"
Christensen remained silent.
This was indeed his mistake, and he had no grounds to argue.
"Just focus on doing better next ti."
As Chelsea's captain, Azpilicueta had to step in and comfort Christensen.
If they argued openly on the pitch, the consequences would go beyond simply losing the match.
It would create major controversy.
Rüdiger did not say anything more and simply stewed in his own frustration.
anwhile, Hazard watched coldly from the forward line.
After all, he was destined to leave Chelsea next season, so he had little interest in the result of this match, let alone in improving the strained relationships among Chelsea's players.
Soon, the match resud.
Chelsea struggled to advance into the attacking third and were frequently forced to pass the ball to Hazard.
But the Blues' star player remained quiet.
As ti passed, Manchester United stabilized their midfield defense and gave Chelsea no real openings.
However, they did not launch an all-out assault either.
After all, they still had the Champions League semi-final ahead, and Liverpool would not be an easy opponent.
So they needed to conserve as much energy as possible.
If Chelsea were not still considered a strong team on paper, Mourinho might already have considered bringing on substitutes to give Ling and the others more ti to recover.
Before anyone realized it, the match had reached the 38th minute of the first half, with Azpilicueta leading the attack down the right flank.
How many forr Chelsea players were there in the Manchester United squad?
The answer was three, all in midfield and defense.
They were very familiar with their old teammates' playing styles.
At that mont, a conversation unfolded near the centre circle.
"I have a question for you. Do you regret joining Chelsea?"
Ling turned to look at Rüdiger beside him.
Even though Chelsea were on the attack, the man was not pushing forward. He was simply sticking close to Ling.
Honestly, it was annoying.
But as a player, Ling could understand Rüdiger's mindset.
"Hmm, no. The Premier League is much more competitive than Serie A." Rüdiger replied while covering his mouth.
Everyone secretly hoped to join a stronger team, and Rüdiger was no exception. He even dread of becoming Ling's teammate soday.
Hadn't he seen how well Maguire was doing?
Manchester United's relentless pressure in the attacking third naturally eased the burden on their defense.
'If I had joined Manchester United last season, I might have been a Champions League winner too.'
Rüdiger thought to himself.
Lost in his thoughts, he was suddenly jolted back to reality by a teammate's furious shout.
"They're counterattacking! What are you doing?!"
Rüdiger snapped out of his daze and turned to look.
Nemanja Matić had subtly created space along the flank, waiting for Azpilicueta to accelerate before pivoting to block his path and win the ball.
The ball was quickly passed to Pogba.
The Frenchman, with his flamboyant hairstyle, locked eyes with Ling and delivered a long pass.
The ball spun backward as it flew toward Chelsea's half.
Because of Rüdiger's careless lapse in concentration, he was already trailing Ling by two full body lengths.
How could he possibly catch up?
Even when he pushed himself to the limit, the gap only continued to widen.
In the end, he could only watch helplessly as Ling calmly beat Kepa, and Chelsea's goal was breached once again.
2–0!
Just before halfti, Manchester United struck again to extend their lead.
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