When Michael Owen pierced into the heart of Swansea's defense like an unstoppable blade, then finished with a sharp, graceful strike that beat Glendower's outstretched fingers, the entire Anfield stand erupted.
The roar from the Liverpool supporters seed to shake heaven and earth.
"Michael Owen! Michael Owen!
"Liverpool never lack heroes! The Reds' super striker has stepped forward! He has finally found his shooting boots and galloped into the Swans' penalty area. Once again, we see that familiar, agile dribbling and his sharp, nimble movent. He left Swansea's two centre-backs, Brunel and Friedrich, completely helpless before firing his signature shot into the top-left corner!
"Michael Owen has equalized for the Reds!
"For Swansea, it's a real pity. They failed to take their lead into the dressing room.
"Look at Lynn's expression right now. He looks conflicted, and sowhat disappointed. The current score ans that if the Swans want to create a miracle at Anfield, they must strengthen their attack and break Liverpool's goal again.
"But will Liverpool, now fully alert, still give Swansea that chance?"
Houllier finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Owen score. His heartbeat also returned to a steadier rhythm. Sitting on the bench, he looked composed once more.
Lynn, however, gritted his teeth, clearly torn.
If he rembered correctly, it was hard to say Liverpool were overwhelmingly strong this season, but this season's Liverpool would sweep across many battlefields and eventually collect trophy after trophy.
They would win every cup competition they entered!
However, they would not touch the two heaviest honors: the league title and the Champions League. The European competition Liverpool were playing in this season was the UEFA Cup.
And what made Swansea especially unlucky was that the Liverpool forward they had run into, Michael Owen, was arguably in the best form of his career.
Otherwise, Owen would not win the Ballon d'Or at the end of next year!
After winning that Ballon d'Or, Owen would never again display the sa form he had this season, when he perford brilliantly across multiple fronts and produced eye-catching goal numbers.
Swansea were truly unfortunate. They had encountered Michael Owen, still only twenty years old, yet already entering an early peak.
If Owen truly found his rhythm, Brunel would undoubtedly lose in a one-on-one. Brunel's weakness — turning too slowly — was enough to be completely destroyed by Owen's terrifying speed and explosive acceleration!
Friedrich could not stop Owen either. If the two of them worked together, it might not be a complete defeat, but their success rate in shutting Owen down still would not be high.
Lynn felt a headache coming on, born from a helplessness he could not suppress.
The first half soon ended.
Swansea and Liverpool returned to their respective dressing rooms with the score at 1-1.
The mont Lynn returned to the dressing room, he began laying out the tactics for the second half.
He could only ask Gabbidon to drop back into the penalty area and compress the space, avoiding exposing gaps for the lightning-fast Owen to break through. But if he did that, Swansea's attacking threat would inevitably suffer.
Swansea's players all wore heavy expressions. After Lynn finished arranging the second-half tactics and saw their faces, he suddenly realized that their hearts were probably under enormous pressure.
Facing an opponent of Liverpool's level made the Swansea players feel deeply frustrated and shaken.
It was like a child fighting an adult. When the child succeeded with a sneak attack and felt proud of himself, the adult, who had never taken the child seriously before, only had to beco slightly serious and punch the child down.
Their attack had also never been obstructed like this before.
In the past, no matter how a match unfolded, Swansea had never reached a point where they could not advance their attack and were pinned back for long periods. At the very least, their forwards or late-arriving midfielders could create a few shots.
But throughout the entire first half today, Swansea had only four shots.
That was their lowest number of first-half shots since the start of the season.
The Reds' tight and efficient defense was like snapping the Swans' wings, sending them crashing down at Anfield.
A swan that could not fly could not soar through the sky.
It could only fall to the ground and suffer the Reds' encirclent.
Lynn clapped his hands and said to everyone, "All right. Let's talk about your feelings. Forget the match for now. Oliver, you go first."
After saying that, Lynn crossed his arms and looked down at the players seated on the bench.
Cromwell took a sip from his water bottle, then said in a low voice, "I don't know if any of you feel the sa way I do, but whether watching on television or in the stadium, I always feel that many star players' performances are just like that. If it were , I'd definitely be able to do roughly the sa. Of course, extraordinary players like Lineker and Gascoigne don't count."
As soon as he said this, many players nodded seriously.
Yes.
That illusion was very common.
Countless spectators often complained:
How could he miss that?
Isn't it just passing the ball back and forth? I could do that too!
For that chance, as long as you run fast enough, you'll definitely take it!
Those who had never truly played football, or had not played for a long ti, could not properly understand how precious it was for professional players to produce brilliant performances on the pitch.
And players who could consistently perform well had the capital to rise into superstardom!
But Swansea's players understood very clearly that training and matches were two different things.
When it truly ca to a real match, if a player could excellently complete eighty out of a hundred passing opportunities, that was already impressive. If he could complete ninety, that was practically a perfect performance!
Cromwell continued, "Liverpool looked very relaxed out there today. And even while they were relaxed, we still found it difficult. That makes think about one question: if Liverpool truly threw themselves fully into the match against us, just how big would the gap between us be?
"And what makes my feelings even more complicated is that Liverpool are not even the strongest team in England. The strongest teams are in London and Manchester, not Liverpool."
Everyone nodded one after another. Their expressions seed to grow even heavier.
Lynn stared at Cromwell and asked, "Oliver, are you afraid?"
The dressing room suddenly fell into dead silence.
Lynn looked down at Cromwell.
Cromwell slowly raised his head and looked up at Lynn, who stood two ters away. There was an unreadable gleam in his eyes, like a beam of light, like a ball of fla.
Then the corner of Cromwell's mouth lifted slightly, drawing a beautiful curve.
He seed to be smiling calmly.
Yet that smile was exceptionally wild.
"Boss, that really hurts my feelings. Afraid? No. I'm excited! So excited I can hardly hold it in!
"Right now, in front of the Reds of Liverpool, we're like ants. All they need to do is lift their foot, look carefully at where we are, and then stomp down hard — and we're finished!"
Cromwell stood up.
At just one centiter under 1.8 ters, he suddenly looked unusually tall in the eyes of all his teammates.
He turned sideways toward Ibrahimović and smiled. "We can imagine it this way. For Liverpool's players, this match must feel very boring. Giants fighting ants? Is there any suspense? Maybe the only question is whether the giant has woken up yet!
"But at the very least, this match has told us one thing: we are ants, and in our world, giants exist!"
Then he turned toward Friedrich, stretching out his hand as he spoke with emotion.
"In this world, we must grow. We must beco stronger. We must beco giants! We must beco rulers among giants!
"I'm excited. Whether we win or lose this match, I will work hard to beco a giant. I don't want to be an ant. I don't want to play against opponents like this again, opponents who aren't even interested in playing us because we can't force them into a desperate situation! We can't make them feel threatened, hurt, trampled, or torn apart!"
Cromwell turned again and faced Lynn. Opening his arms, he said loudly, "Boss, I'm afraid! I really am afraid!
"I'm afraid my career will always be spent playing the role of an ant!
"I refuse!
"I am Oliver Cromwell. I am the sporting emperor of Swansea's Mansel Street! I am Swansea's captain!
"I'm afraid of remaining an ant forever, so I want to beco a giant. And after becoming a giant, I want to drain the blood of my own kind too!
"I want no opponent to dare look down on . I want no one to dare face with a careless attitude!
"This is my professional dignity. This is my football dignity!
"I will defend it, and I will make it glorious, sacred, and untouchable!"
Lynn stared seriously at Cromwell, his heart filled with comfort.
Cromwell turned back to his teammates and roared at them, "We are going to beco a race of giants together!"
Jas Cook was the first to stand.
Usually gentle and refined, he had been infected by Cromwell's speech. He shouted, "I want to beco a giant too!"
Ibrahimović stood and curled his lip, then said, "Although saying it like this sounds stupid, Oliver, you're right. We are going to beco giants! Giants standing at the top of the world!"
One after another, the other teammates stood and joined the "I want to beco a giant" club.
Lynn said nothing more.
He quietly left the dressing room.
Hughes followed him out and quickly caught up in the players' tunnel. Worried, he asked, "Isn't it bad for them to get so emotional like that?"
Lynn smiled and shook his head. "That is exactly why he is my captain! Emlyn, in truth, no matter how we adjust in this match, we are still in a very passive position. But if this can inspire the players, I'm happy to leave the space to them.
"And don't you think Oliver is truly brilliant? He's a born leader. As long as he seriously throws himself into a ga, he will pour all his energy into it!"
"Ga?"
Hughes was puzzled by Lynn's choice of word.
Was football a ga?
In his view, professional football was absolutely not a ga.
It could be business.
It could be war.
But it was definitely not a ga, sothing that sounded so relaxed and recreational.
Lynn began smiling with a little pride — pride for Cromwell.
Walking ahead without looking back, he said, "That's right. To Oliver, he is currently playing a ga called football. The playing ti will probably last at least twenty years.
"And he will think of every possible way to win this twenty-year ga."
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