Fabregas glanced toward Leo Lin more than once. The more he looked, the more uneasy he felt.
He didn't even dare to turn with the ball and start an attack, because at any moment Leo Lin might suddenly appear and deliver a crushing challenge.
If the midfield stops functioning, the entire team collapses. The saying "whoever controls the midfield controls the game" isn't just talk.
"The football world always says whoever controls the midfield controls the game, because midfield is the hub of the entire team, responsible for linking defense and attack."
"For example, if a friend asks whether you want to rob a bank and your answer is 'I don't want to,' removing the key words in the middle that connect the sentence could completely change its meaning."
"Right now Chelsea are in real trouble. Their three-center-back system relies heavily on Fabregas distributing the ball from midfield to create chances."
"But under Leo Lin's high press, Fabregas can't even lift his head, let alone scan for passing options."
As Liverpool pushed their midfield higher and higher, Chelsea's formation retreated deeper and deeper, gradually losing control of the match.
Liverpool seized both possession and the tempo.
The visitors had completely taken over Stamford Bridge.
70th minute!
"Sustained pressure eventually pays off. Chelsea's formation has been compressed so much that even their forwards have dropped back near the midfield line."
"Hazard isn't playing as a second striker anymore—he's practically become a midfielder, forced into defensive work."
"Liverpool's center-backs have even stepped up to the halfway line carrying the ball to organize attacks. This is the ultimate form of high pressing!"
"There's a suffocating pressure hanging over Chelsea's entire half. At this point it almost feels like a half-pitch training exercise!"
Just then, Joe Gomez received the ball on the flank and passed it inside.
Henderson took the ball, turned, and quickly slipped a short pass to Wijnaldum.
Wijnaldum controlled it smoothly with his long stride.
A sudden stop and change of direction created space as he slipped past Fabregas.
He then pushed the ball left.
Moreno, rarely seen joining the attack, overlapped forward and whipped a powerful cross toward the middle!
At the top of the penalty arc, Leo Lin met the pass with a half turn and flicked the ball past Kanté with his heel!
Then with a light touch of his toe, he slipped the ball to the right.
Salah timed his run perfectly, beating the offside trap and bursting into the box one-on-one!
Facing Courtois rushing out, he blasted a shot straight through the keeper's legs!
The ball hit the net.
Courtois had been nutmegged.
"Second goal!!!"
"They've scored again! This might be game over!"
"Leo Lin assists Salah for Liverpool's second!"
"Liverpool lead Chelsea 2–0! It looks like they're heading for the FA Cup quarterfinals!"
After scoring, Salah sprinted to the touchline and struck his recent favorite celebration—standing tall like a golden rooster.
Leo Lin quickly arrived behind him.
Firmino and the others followed, all copying the same one-legged pose in celebration.
Chelsea looked like they had lost their will to fight.
After conceding the second goal, they seemed completely shaken.
When play resumed, Chelsea wandered through the match in a daze, unable to find any attacking rhythm.
Klopp then made substitutions, bringing on Henderson and Robertson to further strengthen the midfield and defensive lines.
Fabregas could swear this was the most miserable match he had ever played.
Because there was a raging bull on the field with only one target in his sights—him.
It felt as if Fabregas were wearing bright red shorts… on the outside.
Leo Lin could spot him from anywhere.
The pressure was suffocating.
Even when Kanté tried to shield him with block-like movements, Leo Lin would simply power through Kanté, charging straight at Fabregas and crushing his space.
Fabregas wasn't even given a moment to breathe.
The longer the match went on, the more exhausted he felt.
His legs grew heavier and heavier.
At one point he even wished the match would just end already.
Chelsea dropped into passive defense, desperately trying to slow the tempo of the game.
Finally, in the 93rd minute, the referee blew the final whistle.
Several Chelsea players looked as if they had just been granted relief.
"The match is over, ladies and gentlemen!"
"In the FA Cup fifth round, Liverpool dominate Chelsea at Stamford Bridge and advance to the quarterfinals!"
"The 2–0 scoreline doesn't fully reflect the match. The level of pressing Liverpool showed tonight is among the very best in world football."
"Perhaps only Juventus, Bayern Munich, Real Madrid, and Barcelona currently possess pressing intensity comparable to this Liverpool side."
"We don't know what will happen next, but one thing is certain—the decisive stage of the season has begun."
"And Liverpool still have three trophies to fight for!"
"Good luck to them!"
Leo Lin was named Man of the Match.
He had already grown used to this kind of life.
After the match he attended the press conference, wearing his usual professional smile while answering reporters' questions.
Then he had dinner with Maria, who had come to watch the match.
Afterward they went back to his house, talking about life, about dreams.
A calm life ignited by the passion of football.
Step by step, he was moving steadily toward his dreams.
That was exactly the life Leo Lin wanted.
...
Right in the middle of this crucial title race, Liverpool's chief scout Berg suddenly submitted a special report.
At 8 a.m. on March 17, Krawietz pushed open the door to the manager's office.
"Boss, the scouting team has found a new target."
He handed over a scouting report with a mysterious smile.
"Villarreal's defensive midfielder. Spanish player Rodri."
"Very promising. Our main competitor could be Atlético Madrid."
"If we sign him, it'll probably cost around €20 million."
Klopp took the report and studied it carefully.
After a moment, he said:
"So if we sell Emre Can for twenty million and replace him with Rodri… wouldn't that be perfect?"
Krawietz nodded vigorously.
"But does he really have that much potential?"
Klopp looked at Berg's analysis report.
Target Player: Rodri
Current Ability Rating: ★★½
Potential Rating: ★★★★½ to ★★★★★
Current Market Value: €20 million
Last Season Stats:
31 appearances, 14 starts
1 goal, 2 assists
Strengths:
Decisive interceptions, strong physical duels, reliable passing. Excellent football intelligence that allows him to quickly choose the correct attacking direction. Outstanding anticipation.
Weaknesses:
May need time to adapt to the pace of the Premier League. Quick-release passing still needs development.
Estimated Transfer Fee: €20–30 million.
Player's Desire to Join: Strong.
Liverpool's Key Advantage Over Other Clubs:
Rodri is a huge fan of Leo Lin.
And in the final line of the potential section, it boldly stated:
"Small probability of developing into a Ballon d'Or-level player."
Klopp frowned.
"Ballon d'Or?"
"Did Berg write this report after drinking? He expects a €20 million defensive midfielder to compete for the Ballon d'Or?"
Krawietz froze for a moment—then burst out laughing.
"We can go for him. Start working on it."
"But don't spend too much. Our main priority is still Van Dijk."
Krawietz immediately nodded.
"Yes, sir!"
...
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