"Ling! He seizes the mont Rüdiger loses focus, bursts forward to et Pogba's long pass, rounds the goalkeeper, and rolls the ball into an empty net!"
"As a professional footballer, you have to stay switched on every second of the match. How can a basic mistake like losing concentration happen at Premier League level?"
Neville did not hold back with his criticism.
Beside him, Lampard's face had turned ashen.
His tone was sharp as he said, "Just now, I saw Ling speaking to Rüdiger. Not long after that, Rüdiger completely switched off."
The implication was clear.
If Ling had not started a conversation with Rüdiger, then perhaps Rüdiger would never have made such a mistake.
As for the content of their conversation?
Lampard subtly speculated, "When Suárez was at Liverpool, he was used to provoking defenders with trash talk, including racially discriminatory remarks."
At that mont, Neville was fully awake.
Others might respect Lampard's seniority and his honors, but Neville did not care in the slightest.
He abruptly stood up and fired back without restraint.
"Everyone in Europe knows Ling's character. He never resorts to dirty tricks like that unless the opponent provokes him first!"
"And besides, if Ling really had said sothing like that, how do you think Rüdiger would have reacted?"
Neville pointed toward the pitch and sneered.
"Look at his expression. He looks completely lost. That was clearly his own mistake!"
Carragher had originally been watching the drama like a spectator enjoying a free show, but since Lampard had dragged Liverpool into it, how could he stay silent?
Absolutely not!
Otherwise, Liverpool fans would tear him apart!
Carragher cleared his throat and spoke with solemn seriousness.
"Regarding that match in 2011, Suárez only said the word 'negro,' and in Spanish, that doesn't carry the sa racial connotation. His wife has always called him that."
Neville's lips twitched uncontrollably.
Suárez had already been suspended by the FA for eight matches, which ant the matter had long been settled.
And Carragher still thought Liverpool had been wronged?
"'Negro' isn't insulting? Forgive , but after living this many years, I've truly never heard anything like that."
Neville imdiately retorted.
Ignoring Lampard, who still seed to want to say more, Neville and Carragher began arguing in front of millions of viewers.
...
On the pitch, the Manchester United players had just finished celebrating and were strolling back toward their own half.
As they passed the Chelsea players, Rüdiger gave Ling a resentful look.
He had thought Ling was an honest guy.
He had not expected him to take advantage of a montary lapse in concentration, sneak forward, and score a goal.
But honestly, he had no real reason to resent Ling.
The bigger problem was his own.
From the day he beca a professional player, every lesson and every piece of guidance he received had emphasized one thing above all else.
Stay focused.
That was the most basic quality of a centre-back.
Yet Ling's two sentences had struck him so deeply that he had fallen into thought in the middle of a match.
"Ling, what on earth did you say to him?" Maguire asked like a curious child.
Looking at Maguire's large head, Ling suddenly had an idea and smiled.
"Oh, he thinks you're not good enough and asked to suggest to the boss that we buy him to replace you. He said he'd definitely do a better job."
Maguire: "???"
Countless question marks seed to appear above his big head.
He had always felt that Rüdiger did not look like a particularly good guy, but he had never expected him to pull sothing like that behind his back!
"Fuck him! I'm worth £65 million, and he's only worth £55 million. Apart from turning a little faster, what does he have over ?" Maguire said indignantly.
But even though he said that, a sense of crisis quietly appeared in his heart, and he resolved to work even harder.
Now that Manchester United were once again one of the top teams in world football, countless players wanted to join them, and the level of competition inside the squad was extrely high.
Mahrez added fuel to the fire.
"Half your value cos from your English passport, so overall, you really can't compare to him."
"Hmph! Sooner or later, I'll beco a centre-back worth over a hundred million!"
Maguire did not continue arguing.
Because of the Premier League's squad rules, which required eight hogrown players and three club-trained players, the so-called English passport was incredibly valuable.
In the current market, it was worth roughly £15 million by itself.
So Mahrez was not exactly wrong.
"The first half is almost over. Don't make the sa mistakes. Let's take this lead into the dressing room."
Seeing that his teammates were getting a little too excited, Ling reminded them at the right ti.
"See? When he first joined the team last season, I said he had the potential to beco captain. That calm presence of his couldn't be hidden."
Valencia whispered to Ashley Young.
Ashley Young nodded in agreent.
"Zlatan once told , 'Ling has engraved his desire to win and lift trophies into his bones. That's why he always wants to turn the impossible into sothing possible and create more miracles.' I was skeptical at first."
"But it wasn't until last season's Champions League final that I realized just how accurate Zlatan's judgnt was."
"To be honest, he'd make a much better captain than you. Looks, ability, influence—he wins in every area."
Ashley Young winked at the end, leaving Valencia speechless.
"You're one to talk! You're not exactly handso either!"
Valencia finally managed to retort.
Manchester United's "Dark Four Heavenly Kings"—Nani the non-passer, Valencia the non-shooter, Young the non-dribbler, and Berbatov the non-scorer. (Wtf lmao)
Was there a single handso guy among them?
No!
"I heard Zlatan is returning to one of Europe's top five leagues next season?"
Valencia suddenly said.
"With his never-say-die attitude, once there's no real challenge left in MLS, he definitely won't be able to hold himself back."
Ashley Young sighed with emotion.
"After all, his personality is very, very similar to Ling's."
"I wonder if he'll co back. Maybe I should renew my contract for another year?"
As soon as Valencia finished speaking, he shook his head and sighed to himself.
"It's a sha my level has dropped too much. If I were five years younger, I could definitely play a few more years with these lads."
Hearing that, Ling put an arm around Valencia and spoke sincerely.
"I think both you and Ashley are still good enough. Maybe not as regular starters, but there's absolutely no problem with being rotation players."
Valencia had dedicated so many years to Manchester United.
He had even fired his agent and once broken his leg while fighting for the team.
Retiring at Manchester United would be the best ending.
"My body can't handle high-intensity matches anymore, but I don't want to leave the pitch. So leaving is the best option."
Although Valencia's tone was light, Ling could hear the determination in his words.
Squad turnover was an unavoidable reality in competitive sports.
If clubs kept renewing veteran players on high wages, the final result would inevitably be a decline in performance.
AC Milan around 2010 was the perfect example.
Ling did not try to persuade Valencia any further.
Everyone had their own choices, and there was no need to force personal opinions onto soone else.
But at that mont, he felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.
Because he was no longer playing only for himself.
He carried the expectations of his family, his teammates, and many others. He had to repay those expectations with trophies and honors.
Before the first half ended, Manchester United held a two-goal lead.
Chelsea's morale had sunk straight to rock bottom.
Manchester United, on the other hand, seized possession again and created another dangerous chance, finding Pogba outside the box from a corner, though the Frenchman's long-range shot narrowly missed the target.
Then the match entered halfti.
The Manchester United players returned to the dressing room with smiles on their faces, discussing what adjustnts they should make for the second half.
Truthfully, there was not much to say.
Mourinho briefly reviewed the first half, reminded the players to stay alert at all tis, and then allowed everyone to rest freely.
"I thought today would be a tough battle, but I didn't expect Chelsea to be this fragile. Mistakes from front to back, and the players clearly lack fighting spirit."
Herrera made the comnt casually.
"A few days ago, I went out for dinner with Kovačić, and he told the dressing room is about to explode. It's split into three factions now—the manager's group, the veteran players, and the new signings. Honestly, it's a miracle they're still holding on to seventh place."
David Luiz chuckled with obvious schadenfreude.
"Let's not talk about that anymore. After this match, we have the Champions League semi-final. Everyone needs to take care of themselves and get into peak condition."
Ling noticed Mourinho's expression darkening and quickly stopped his teammates from mocking Chelsea any further.
After all, Mourinho had managed Chelsea twice.
Even if he told the dia that everything was in the past, how could he truly have no lingering feelings?
The Manchester United players fell silent and quickly changed the subject.
Before long, fifteen minutes had passed.
Both teams returned to the pitch, and the second half kicked off on ti.
Manchester United attacked aggressively right from the restart.
They wanted to kill off the match completely, then substitute their key players and conserve energy.
As a result, Chelsea experienced what Manchester City had felt not long ago.
"Manchester United are moving quickly down the left flank. Ashley Young goes past Willian."
"Why didn't he track back in ti?"
Lampard scolded angrily.
Back in his day, no matter how bad Chelsea's situation beca, they never gave up on a match.
It seed that after all these years, Chelsea had lost their fighting spirit, and every player now moved like a zombie.
"I promise every Chelsea fan that this will not happen next season. I will bring that fighting spirit back to the Blues!"
Lampard declared with confidence.
He wanted to build a dynasty with his own hands, just like Zidane.
To achieve that, certain asures were unavoidable.
First, he had to gain the trust of the managent. Then he had to win over the Chelsea fans. Finally, he had to let the results speak for themselves.
'Surely it can't be worse than this season.'
Lampard thought to himself.
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