The ball dropped with wicked precision toward the right channel, where Timber was backtracking, neck craned awkwardly as he tried to judge the flight.
He leapt, stretching every inch of his frame, but the ball skimmed just above his hairline, and it fell perfectly for Luis Díaz.
The Colombian's first touch was velvet, cushioning the ball on the move, his second carrying him past the recovering Timber and suddenly, acres of grass opened up ahead of him, Anfield rising to its feet in anticipation.
The sound swelled like a wave because the counter was on.
Díaz was flying, the Kop rising with every stride.
Timber scrambled to recover, his boots thundering against the turf, but Thomas Partey stepped across, a last-ditch wall in red and white.
The Ghanaian spread his arms wide, cutting off the lane, his body angled, ready to slow the Colombian down.
But Díaz barely broke stride.
