Inside the player tunnel.
The air was so thick with tension it was almost unbreathable.
The two teams stood facing each other in two parallel lines.
There was no verbal exchange.
No "good luck."
Not even a single exchanged glance.
There was only the muffled, vibrating roar of the stadium, a sound that felt like it was coming from inside your own chest.
Listening to those roars, their emotions grew increasingly intense, fervent, and primal.
Ling drew the heated, damp air deep into his lungs.
His heart was beating like a drum.
He focused on the back of his captain's head, following the officiating crew, and strode forward with resolute steps out onto the pitch.
This...
Suddenly, the dim light of the tunnel exploded.
Light, color, and sound burst into view.
It was a blazing inferno of red and a massive, proud Liver Bird on the Kop stand.
It was Liverpool's mascot, a seabird believed to bring good luck.
But in Jeremy Ling's eyes, it more closely resembled a phoenix, standing tall, proud, and utterly intimidating.
The referee for this match was one of the most well-known in England, the renowned official Martin Atkinson.
To fans, he was one of the league's most controversial figures, known for a leniency that bordered on madness.
It's worth noting that his interpretation of fouls was extremely lenient; standard slide tackles, whether they made contact with the ball or not, often went unpunished.
He loved to "let the game flow."
Thus, the brutal, physical intensity of today's match was predictable.
As the players entered the pitch, the Sky Sports cameras panned to the stands, showing the legends who had come to watch.
Ferguson, Beckham, Gary Neville... Dalglish, Gerrard, Carragher... Manchester United and Liverpool's legendary coaches and players had all arrived early, their faces grim and serious, to take part in the 199th North West Derby.
Simultaneously, Anfield reverberated with an inspiring, haunting melody.
"When you walk through a storm..."
"Hold your head up high..."
"And don't be afraid of the dark..."
Tens of thousands of fans, a sea of red scarves held high, sang in perfect, thunderous unison, as if channeling their strength and collective will directly to the players on the field.
It was the most famous anthem in football, and hearing it as an enemy was a different experience.
It wasn't welcoming; it was a threat.
Today was the official unveiling of the newly named "Kenny Dalglish Stand," and the home fans fully intended to make their rivals' blood and defeat the first adornment of that stand.
Once both teams were in position, the atmosphere reached a fever pitch. Atkinson blew the whistle to start the match.
BEEP!
Martin Tyler: "And we are underway at Anfield! The 199th North West Derby! The noise is... simply extraordinary. And Liverpool, as you'd expect, are straight onto the front foot!"
Jordan Henderson received the pass back from Roberto Firmino and immediately, without a second's hesitation, slanted a 40-yard through ball to Mohamed Salah on the right flank, who sprinted forward onto the ball.
Liverpool's formation surged ahead rapidly.
There was no feeling out process. There was no cautious opening. The real action began from the very first second.
After honing his skills in Serie A, Mohamed Salah was now at the absolute peak of his competitive form.
He maintained his blistering speed and agility but now possessed a physique dubbed "devilish muscles" by the press.
His terrifying, explosive speed—that first-step acceleration—often allowed him to force breakthroughs where none existed.
Jeremy Ling was tasked with tracking him, didn't dare press too closely.
His job, as Mourinho had drilled into him, was to contain, not to engage.
He maintained a two-yard distance, shuffling backward, his eyes locked on the ball.
Amid the deafening, shrieking cheers of the Kop, Salah suddenly accelerated.
He put his head down and exploded in a powerful burst, racing down the touchline.
'He's even faster in person', Ling thought with a jolt of panic hitting his system.
Ling, his focus razor-sharp, immediately turned to chase back.
His pace was high, but Salah's Acceleration was a different beast.
He slightly raised his right hand, a desperate, instinctive attempt to slow Salah's momentum, to buy a second.
But he didn't expect Salah's speed to increase again.
The Egyptian slipped through the gap like a loach, faster than seemed humanly possible.
Just as Salah was about to complete the breakthrough and be clean in on goal, Matteo Darmian, United's right-back playing on the left, charged forward from his defensive position.
He was reckless, he was desperate, and he launched himself into a diving slide tackle without a shred of hesitation.
He took down both the man and the ball in a tumbling, violent heap.
"BOOOOOOOOO!!!"
An ear-piercing, venomous chorus of boos immediately erupted from all four corners of Anfield.
Liverpool fans were on their feet, screaming, their faces contorted with rage, furiously demanding answers from the referee.
"Are you f***ing playing football or trying to injure someone?!"
"Do you only give a card when you've nearly killed someone, Atkinson?!"
"Damn trash, is that the only move you know! Red! RED!"
In the heated, toxic atmosphere of the North West Derby, there was no need to consider whether the opponent had actually committed a foul—just join in the collective, righteous cursing.
Martin Tyler: "And straight away Salah is in! He's past Ling... but here comes Darmian! Oh, that's a thumping challenge! He's taken everything! The ball, the man, the patch of grass!"
Gary Neville: "He's got to make that, Martin! He's absolutely got to. Ling was exposed, Salah was away. Darmian's gone in, he's won the ball. It's a great tackle, for me. The Anfield crowd won't like it, but that's a derby challenge."
Jamie Carragher: "That's a 'welcome to the game' tackle, that. He's lucky. He's come in at a hundred miles an hour. It's aggressive... but like Gary said, he just got the ball. Atkinson's right to wave it on."
On the sidelines, Jürgen Klopp and José Mourinho simultaneously converged on the poor fourth official, applying intense pressure with heated, animated language.
On the pitch, Salah was clutching his shin, wailing and rolling, while Darmian turned away expressionlessly, as if nothing had happened.
Atkinson, true to his reputation, jogged over, crossed his arms, and repeatedly signaled.
"No foul." He had clearly seen the player execute a sliding tackle that made contact with the ball first.
How could it possibly be a foul? As for the follow-through... it was natural to struggle to control that much momentum.
Ling, who had been beaten, jogged back into position, taking a deep breath.
The adrenaline was pumping.
He realized he had completely underestimated the sheer, violent intensity of the North West Derby.
He had to fight even harder.
After the chaos subsided, the match resumed.
Following a throw-in, Liverpool quickly shifted the ball to their backline.
Emre Can, in his new midfield role, advanced through the central channel with the ball at his feet.
He was a veteran of this Liverpool squad, a key midfielder from the Rodgers era through Klopp's reign.
His technical attributes weren't world-class, but he was a powerful, all-action utility player.
Simultaneously, Liverpool's formation shifted, a beautiful, coordinated, chaotic dance.
Coutinho drifted inward from the left, dragging Ander Herrera with him, creating space.
Firmino moved laterally, forcing Valencia—who had been stepping up to press Can—to retreat.
This forced left-back Alberto Moreno to immediately overlap into the now-vacant wide space, which in turn forced Ashley Young to sprint back into his own half.
On the opposite flank, Wijnaldum and Salah stood ready to surge forward.
Through this series of coordinated, "Gegenpressing" movements, Liverpool pinned Manchester United's entire defensive line deep in their own half.
They neutralized United's counter-attacking outlets (Ling and Young) before they even had a chance to think about attacking.
This allowed Liverpool to commit fully to their offensive efforts.
Suddenly, Emre Can launched a diagonal long ball, a laser-guided pass that precisely found Wijnaldum in the right half-space.
Wijnaldum, incredibly strong, held off Matić and nodded the ball down to Salah, who had cut inside from the wing to support.
Ling had dropped exceptionally deep.
He was, effectively, an auxiliary left-full-back, coordinating with Darmian in a desperate two-man defense on the Egyptian.
One (Ling) applied pressure to slow him down, while the other (Darmian) looked for the moment to tackle.
But Salah, often dubbed the "Egyptian Messi," was in the zone.
He deftly evaded both of them with nimble, lightning-fast footwork, driving toward the byline before whipping in a dangerous cross.
However, against United's tightly parked, ten-man bus, this was the extent of what he could achieve.
Breaking into the penalty area would be sheer fantasy.
The ball curved beautifully toward the edge of the six-yard box.
Roberto Firmino, known for his work rate, not his aerial prowess, leaped high.
But to no avail.
Phil Jones, snarling, surged forward and out-jumped him, clearing the ball with a powerful headed intervention.
The ball wasn't clear.
It bounced out to the top of the box.
Martin Tyler: "Liverpool recycle... another cross... cleared by Jones! Only as far as HENDERSON!"
"Oh, he's caught that! A powerful volley! WHAT A SAVE! DAVID DE GEA! Magnificent! He flew to his left! That was destined for the top corner!"
Jamie Carragher: "That's world-class, that is. Simple as. Hendo's hit it sweet, it's moving, it's dipping... and De Gea's got the springs. He's kept them in it. That's a massive, massive save."
Gary Neville: "That's what he does. That's why he's the best in the world. But look at United. They are pinned. They can't get out. This is exactly what Klopp wants. They're just surviving. This is an onslaught."
Liverpool's ensuing corner kick failed to generate significant threat, and United, for a brief second, regained possession.
However, Liverpool promptly demonstrated the true essence of high pressing.
Instead of retreating, their entire formation pushed higher, concentrating their numbers in the attacking third.
A common misconception is that high pressing is defensive. In truth, its core value is offensive domination.
Under the relentless, suffocating running tactics of the Liverpool players, Manchester United's overall formation was severely restricted.
They were completely unable to advance the ball smoothly.
After Matić barely managed to retrieve the ball under pressure, he quickly, and desperately, passed it wide to the left flank, just to get it out.
Ling received the ball.
He was deep in his own half, the chalk of the touchline on his heels. Facing him was the modern-day "Gullit," the powerful Georginio Wijnaldum.
Ling was suffocating.
He had to do something.
He suddenly dropped his shoulder and changed direction, his dribbling kicking in.
As the opponent's center of gravity shifted, he sharply cut inside with the ball, completing a fluid, clean breakthrough.
He had beaten his man.
He had space.
But the same scene unfolded again.
The next man, Joe Gomez, immediately threw himself into a cynical, desperate sliding tackle, not even trying for the ball, just trying to bring him down.
Fortunately, Ling was prepared and jumped early to avoid the brutal, ankle-breaking challenge.
The ball rolled out for a throw-in.
"Coward!"
"Why are you so scared to stand up, you little rat!"
Harsh, vicious taunts came from Gomez as he got to his feet.
Ling, breathing heavily, ignored them.
He just signaled for a teammate to take the throw-in, his mind processing the new, brutal reality.
'I beat one, the next one just hacks me down. This is their plan.'