Old Trafford erupted with chants of "Rooney! Rooney!"
Chicharito stood in the penalty area, still gesturing to Rooney about the run he'd just made.
This season he'd barely tasted first-team football, yet tonight his contribution already overshadowed Welbeck's from the weekend. Both possessed work rate, but Chicharito understood intelligent movement of not blind pressing but calculated positioning that dragged defenders out of shape, liberating Rooney from defensive attention.
The United fans grew louder, their voices were mixing with the drumming of palms hammering steel railings. The sound lashed at Liverpool's backs like a whip.
Julien wiped sweat from his temple and dropped two steps deeper into midfield.
In these opening ten minutes, he'd barely touched the ball, let alone attempted his trademark dribbles.
Gerrard stood in the center circle, his expression was darkening by the second, arms were raised toward the backline shouting, "Don't drop too deep!"
But United's passing wove an ever-tightening net, left to right, inside to outside compressing Liverpool's shape flatter and narrower with each exchange.
The roar continued swelling. Nobody could quite believe this full-strength Liverpool side was being dominated so comprehensively, yet every United pass reinforced the undeniable truth.
Chicharito's movement had completely unlocked Rooney.
And this supposedly weaker United lineup understood how to dissect Liverpool's defense better than last weekend's starting eleven.
Nobody had anticipated this script. Ten minutes passed without Liverpool mustering a single meaningful counterattack.
The rhythm unsettled Rodgers on the touchline, though Moyes's mood had improved slightly.
At least the performance looked convincing.
This satisfied United's notoriously demanding fans—a fanbase conditioned to expect not just victories and trophies, but style.
On the pitch, Rooney suddenly unleashed a drive from distance.
Mignolet flung himself full-stretch, palming the ball over the crossbar.
The stadium gasped before applause and cheers intensified.
Broadcasting Box
Gary Neville couldn't contain himself, and was leaning forward with excitement.
"Look at that effort, and look at these ten minutes, Andy! This is what Manchester United should be! Hernandez's movement is absolutely brilliant—he's not bulldozing through, he's circling, weaving between Liverpool's center-backs, dragging them out of position.
That's why Rooney's finding so much space in midfield! When they played Welbeck in the derby, it didn't work, not because Welbeck isn't good, but because his style overlaps with Rooney's. Both need space. Chicharito is different. He's the adhesive, attracting defensive attention. That's precisely why he's the ideal backup for Van Persie!"
He paused, shifting focus to Liverpool's struggles, his tone sharpened.
"Now look at Liverpool's supposed full-strength lineup getting dominated by United's reserves! How have they been winning matches? Through De Rocca's flashes of individual excellence! Because De Rocca can take on two or even three defenders out wide, can cut inside and shoot from nothing.
But today United have suffocated Liverpool's possession, and without the ball, De Rocca's neutered. Their attack's gone silent! What does that tell you? It tells you Rodgers's tactics have no Plan B at all! Without De Rocca's individual explosiveness, they can't even organize a proper counterattack!"
Neville's voice rose further, clearly relishing the opportunity to defend Moyes.
"The media screams daily that Moyes should be sacked, that he can't handle United! But look at Rodgers! He's got a fit Suarez, a hot in form De Rocca, Gerrard as captain and he can't even handle United's backup squad! If Moyes deserves the sack, Rodgers should've been gone ages ago! At least Moyes is still searching, still adjusting to find the right formula for United.
What's Rodgers doing? He hasn't even figured out how his best eleven should actually play! These ten minutes are all the proof you need! United's reserves producing this kind of dominance proves the squad's foundation remains solid. Once Moyes identifies the right combinations and tactics, United will be back. But Liverpool? If they can't find their rhythm today, United will control this entire match!"
Before Andy could respond, the match exploded.
Rooney whipped in the left-side corner. Hernandez was completely unmarked, and redirected the ball toward goal with his right foot from close range.
The net bulged.
One-nil to Manchester United!!
Chicharito sprinted toward the Scoreboard Stand, sliding on his knees in celebration.
Though not the fanatical Stretford End, the atmosphere remained electric.
De Gea pumped his fists from the opposite end. Old Trafford's volume threatened to lift the roof clean off.
Red scarves whipped through the air like a crimson tsunami.
Rooney charged after Hernandez, throwing an arm around his shoulders, pointing enthusiastically at his movement pattern, clearly praising the intelligent near-post run.
Liverpool's players stood frozen, looking shell-shocked.
Sakho looked particularly bewildered. Hernandez, who'd been right beside him moments earlier, had somehow delivered the killer blow unnoticed.
The big screen replayed the goal repeatedly.
Rooney's delivery curled beautifully, bypassing the crowd at the near post and dropping perfectly into the central danger zone.
Just as the ball reached its peak, a red figure exploded through the gap between Liverpool's two center-backs.
Javier Hernández Balcázar nicknamed Chicharito!
Nobody had tracked his run from the back post into the corridor of uncertainty. Liverpool's defenders remained hooked on Rooney's cross trajectory. By the time they were aware, Chicharito already stood gloriously alone.
He leaned forward slightly, right leg meeting the ball with the gentlest of touches, redirecting it past the goalkeeper's desperate dive and inside the near post.
It was absurdly simple, yet devastatingly effective.
Julien frowned, watching the United players' celebrations, particularly Chicharito's.
The Mexican reminded him of another legendary United super-sub: Solskjaer, the baby-faced assassin.
Both shared that supernatural ability to alter scorelines in the blink of an eye.
Solskjaer's 1999 Champions League final winner needed no introduction—that moment lived forever as sacred gospel in United folklore.
Chicharito played similarly.
His 2010 Community Shield debut saw him score with a freakish facial deflection against Chelsea, claiming his first United trophy within minutes of arriving.
He'd never been the type of striker who muscled through defenses with physical dominance. Instead, he possessed an almost precognitive read of passing trajectories, capable of exploiting defensive gaps immediately after entering as a substitute, finishing with delicate flicks and instinctive pokes.
He was a genuine penalty-box ghost.
Just as this North-West encounter demonstrated, despite minimal starting opportunities this season, Chicharito could still deliver in crucial moments with his signature intelligent movement.
For United, he might not be first-choice, but he remained the most valuable weapon on the bench, continuing the club's legendary tradition of match-changing substitutes.
Julien shook his head.
This match would be difficult.
Liverpool's lineup looked completely disjointed.
Especially the defense.
The problems ran deep and Rodgers bore significant responsibility.
From daily training sessions, Julien had sensed it clearly, Rodgers had overly idealistic tactical concepts. But when opponents raised their intensity, he panicked becoming lost and uncertain how to respond.
Andy Gray continued after his goal commentary.
"That's Chicharito Hernandez's value! You simply cannot track his movement. One second he's lurking at the back post, then the instant Rooney strikes the corner, he's like a red lightning bolt, threading through the armpit gap between Liverpool's two center-backs! Completely unmarked, absolutely unmarked! This goal is massive for United!
A heavily rotated squad taking the lead against Liverpool's full-strength lineup—Moyes's fist-pump on the touchline says everything. This isn't just a strong start in the revenge fixture, it's a powerful response to all the criticism of his position! Hernandez has proven with this goal that he's better suited to partnering Rooney than Welbeck.
Welbeck relies on work rate to exhaust defenders. Chicharito assassinates defenses with positioning! Old Trafford's roar keeps building! This goal is like adrenaline injected straight into United's dominance, while simultaneously piling all the pressure onto Rodgers.
Liverpool must accelerate their tempo now. If they remain this passive, the balance of this North-West derby will tip completely toward Manchester United."
But at that moment, Rodgers stood helpless on the touchline.
Beyond reminding his players about defensive concentration, he had no solutions, he himself was still searching for answers.
TWEET!
The whistle sounded and play resumed.
Liverpool kicked off.
Suarez tapped the ball backward before spinning into space.
Gerrard spotted the opportunity, playing a gentle inside pass toward the Uruguayan's run.
Suarez collected and immediately surged forward. Crossing the halfway line, he tried a sharp turn to evade the press. But Phil Jones proved to be his nemesis tonight.
The young defender charged in, shouldering Suarez off balance while simultaneously hooking the ball away with his toe in one smooth motion.
Kagawa pounced on the loose ball. Without hesitation, he spun and drove forward. Gerrard's recovery tackle arrived half a second too late. Kagawa was already past him.
The central channel was open.
Kagawa accelerated into the space. As Henderson and Lucas joined, he slid a perfectly weighted pass square to Giggs who collected it calmly, looking in complete control.
He advanced carefully, scanning for teammates' positions.
Suddenly, he spotted Nani's run!
CRACK!
A piercing through-ball, eased directly into the path of the overlapping winger.
Nani didn't break stride, controlling with his weaker left foot before instantly whipping a low, driven cross across the six-yard box with the outside of the same boot.
Rooney had already ghosted into the penalty area!
He twisted his body, leg tilted, meeting the delivery on the half-volley without breaking pace!
THUMP!
The connection wasn't perfectly clean, but that actually helped. The ball skidded low, bouncing off the turf and deceiving Mignolet's positioning.
It grazed his fingertips, cannoned off the inside of the right post, and rippled the net.
GOAL!!
Two minutes!
United had scored twice in two minutes!!
Two-nil!
Old Trafford didn't just roar—it detonated.
Not scattered pockets of celebration but a unified sonic earthquake, rolling from the North Stand toward the South, crashing like tidal waves, compressing the air itself until it vibrated. Even the pitch trembled underfoot.
Steel railings rattled under the drumming of thousands of palms. The "UNITED!" chants surged in waves, riding the evening air down onto the playing surface.
Red scarves and red shirts weren't swaying gently anymore, they were being thrashed over heads like rising waves in a violent sea, transforming the entire stadium into a crimson ocean.
United's players stampeded toward the corner flag, arms draped across each other's shoulders, some leaping chest-first into teammates.
Liverpool's players stood motionless in the penalty area.
Silent and separate, there was a clear dividing line between them and the joyous celebrations.
The noise showed no signs of dwindling. If anything, it intensified, rolling from the stands toward the dugouts.
Moyes clenched both fists until his knuckles turned white. He didn't smile, just nodded repeatedly. These two goals had finally given him room to breathe.
Rodgers's expression grew grimmer still. His team was being completely outplayed.
He remained silent.
On the pitch, Gerrard clapped his hands, calling out to teammates, "Stop standing around!"
His voice wasn't particularly loud but cut through the silence like a stone thrown into still water, piercing even the stadium's thunder.
"It's two goals! Panicking now means we'll have nothing left! Get back in position! Tighten the shape, and on the next phase, we push forward!"
He scanned the midfield circle. "Find your positions! Compress the lines, and we'll create chances. What are we afraid of? Seventy-plus minutes left. We win the ball back piece by piece!"
Suarez lifted his head, glancing toward Julien, giving a slight nod.
Others also showed their determination.
Gerrard clapped again, raising his voice slightly. "Get yourselves together and show them Liverpool doesn't fold this easily!"
At Broadcasting Box
Gary Neville was practically euphoric.
He despised Liverpool with every fiber of his being. Watching United dismantle them felt glorious. During his playing days, he'd celebrated provocatively in front of the Kop at Anfield.
Now retired from playing, his punditry carried no filter at all.
"This is United's response! Who could've imagined a semi-reserve squad tearing apart Liverpool's full-strength eleven? Two-nil! Look at Liverpool's defending just then—Suarez dispossessed on the kickoff, Gerrard's central gap big enough to drive a bus through, and one pass from Kagawa slices them wide open!
Where's Rodgers's pre-match talk about full-strength intensity? It's become a complete joke! What good is De Rocca's dribbling ability when his teammates can't support him?
And Suarez? He's isolated and ineffective! Moyes has read this perfectly! Liverpool have no chance of a comeback. Rodgers's Liverpool are finished in this season's League Cup. The Liverpool fans might as well head home now."
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