Ethan slipped his hands into his coat pockets.
The Liverpool players were celebrating wildly—Torres, Gerrard, and Xabi Alonso embraced near the touchline, right under Ethan's nose.
But Ethan only spared them a glance. His attention quickly returned to his own team.
The Luton players looked rattled, their expressions unsettled. Ethan sighed.
Some teams possess what's often called a "champion's mentality"—a calm, almost indifferent confidence forged through repeated triumphs.
Luton, clearly, had yet to cultivate that kind of resilience.
And that was why they looked so shaken now.
Ethan raised his arms and called out to Kevin Keane, the team captain. When Keane looked over, Ethan made a downward-pressing gesture with both hands.
Stay calm. Keep it steady.
Keane nodded in understanding. Within moments, his voice rang across the pitch, helping to steady the team and restore some order.
Benítez noticed the shift.
He exhaled, slightly regretful, and turned to his assistant coach with a shrug. If Luton had kept panicking, we could've buried them with another goal or two.
But now?
He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and narrowed his eyes. They were only a goal behind, and surely Luton had already played most of their tactical cards.
Now it's Liverpool's turn to control the match.
The restart brought a clear change in tempo. As Ethan had anticipated, Liverpool immediately went on the offensive. From the moment they regained possession, it was obvious who the danger man was—Fernando Torres.
Benítez cleverly exploited Luton's tight, shifting defensive shape by moving Torres to the weak side of their setup, using fast switches of play to catch them out of position.
The speed of the pass always beat the movement of the defense.
So now what? Ethan frowned.
Benítez had posed a tactical challenge. If someone shifted to mark Torres—unless it was Pacante—it would be difficult for anyone to contain him. Even with N'Golo Kanté, the task wouldn't be easy. Torres was a powerhouse—strong, fast, technically skilled. In a one-on-one, even Kanté could be beaten.
For attackers, one successful chance out of ten is a good return.
For defenders? One mistake could mean disaster.
That's why Ethan didn't leave Torres to be marked alone. When Torres broke free again on the left and fired a shot, Claude Rondo—Luton's keeper—made a brilliant diving save to tip it wide.
Ethan wasted no time. He called over Kevin Keane again.
"Pack the middle! We're ahead—just hold until halftime!"
He glanced up at the big screen at Wembley Stadium.
35 minutes played. Just over ten to go before the break.
"Tell Jamie and Charlie to drop back. Let Adam stay up top alone!"
Keane nodded again and sprinted back onto the pitch to relay the orders.
Liverpool took the corner. Claude soared above everyone to claim the ball cleanly.
Quickly, he rolled it out to start a counter.
Adam raced forward, but Mascherano was already closing in. The Argentine read the play perfectly and intercepted.
Liverpool surged forward again.
In the final stretch of the first half, the pressure mounted. Wave after wave of red shirts pressed the Luton backline.
And through it all, Luton's best player was unmistakably—goalkeeper Claude Rondo.
In the 37th minute, Gerrard finally found space against Kanté. From just outside the penalty arc, he unleashed a thunderous strike.
The ball sliced through the air, whistling toward the top corner.
Benítez had already begun to raise his arms in celebration.
But Claude—miraculously—got there.
A full-stretch dive. A fingertip touch.
Just enough to deflect it past the post.
The roar of the Liverpool fans turned into a collective groan.
Gerrard turned away in disbelief.
Benítez lowered his hands slowly.
Claude Rondo had kept Luton in the game—and left Liverpool wondering what it would take to beat him.
"Claude Rondo! What a save!"
Letkinson was stunned in the stands.
"Gerrard's strike looked destined for the back of the net, but Rondo made a heroic save right on the line to deny Liverpool!"
"Liverpool are turning up the pressure now," Redknapp commented from the touchline. "Luton's defense is looking shaky, and the fact that their goalkeeper is already being tested this much says a lot."
Ethan had been momentarily frozen by the power and precision of Gerrard's shot, but when he saw Claude's reaction, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"What a stop! That was a brilliant effort from Claude — he's reacting faster and faster every match," John Aston exclaimed excitedly into Ethan's ear.
Ethan nodded, his expression unreadable.
"Claude's performance has been outstanding," he replied.
There was something he didn't say aloud:
The card's effect was kicking in.
Truthfully, Claude's daring rush out to deny Gerrard had a lot to do with that mysterious card. Ethan knew it.
But games aren't won by the keeper alone. You can't rely solely on him to be the last line of defense every time.
Luton's shape was starting to flatten out too much. Ethan barked from the sidelines, waving his arms.
"Push up! Close them down!"
He had already thrown off his suit jacket, and the back of his white shirt clung to him with sweat.
Coaching this match was its own kind of physical ordeal.
With only minutes left in the first half, Liverpool's attack remained relentless.
They surged forward in waves, forcing Luton back deep into their own penalty area. Ethan's voice echoed across the pitch, yelling instructions to push up and hold the line.
Luton, under pressure, began conceding more fouls.
Liverpool capitalized, winning a series of set-pieces as the half ticked on.
In the 43rd minute, Torres rose highest in the box and powered a header towards goal—
But Claude was there again! Another stunning save!
"Brilliant play at both ends!" Letkinson said, voice rising with excitement in the commentary box.
"Both sides are showing excellent tactical discipline. Liverpool have struggled to break Luton down in open play, but their set-piece threat has been real. Still, Claude's heroics have kept the scoreline intact!"
That proved to be Liverpool's final threatening chance of the half.
When Jeffrey cleared the ball from the penalty area, the referee decided there was no need to wait for Liverpool's throw-in and blew the whistle for halftime.
In the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy.
Luton's players looked drained, their expressions grim.
Liverpool's late first-half assault had them gasping for air, convinced the goal was about to be breached at any moment.
But Ethan walked in with a calm smile and clapped his hands.
"Great work in that first half, boys!"
His voice was firm but encouraging.
"We're going into the break leading two-one. We're ahead of Liverpool!"
The players stirred.
Yes... we're still winning.
The tension slowly started to ease off their faces.
Of course, Ethan knew better than to think motivation alone would win the match.
"But we let them pin us back far too much toward the end of the half," he warned.
"Fortunately, Claude stepped up big time."
Claude beamed at the praise, his confidence visibly lifted.
"Now listen," Ethan continued, voice shifting to a sharper tone.
"They're going to come out strong again in the second half."
He wasn't sure if that would be the case—but it didn't matter.
"So we hit them first."
"We go on the attack in the second half!"
The room fell silent.
The players exchanged surprised glances.
That was… unexpected.
Was this a risky shift in strategy—or a masterstroke?
All eyes turned to their manager.
Ethan's calm smile had returned.
He already knew the answer.
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