The ball soared into the grey Manchester sky, a high arc heading toward the center circle.
United's players surged forward en masse, a red wave pressing high to suffocate Liverpool's build-up.
Romelu Lukaku and Virgil van Dijk sprinted toward the dropping ball.
The Dutch defender, a £75 million colossus who had transformed Liverpool since January, showcased why he was the most expensive defender in history.
He matched Lukaku's immense strength shoulder-to-shoulder and rose higher, winning the header with authority.
Thump.
The ball was cleared, and the physical battle intensified. Tempers flared. Referee Craig Pawson had clearly decided to let the game flow, keeping his cards in his pocket despite the crunching tackles.
This leniency only emboldened the players.
In the 12th minute, Paul Pogba aggressively shoved James Milner off the ball, sending the Liverpool veteran tumbling.
The ball rolled out of play.
"Get it to the left!" Jose Mourinho screamed from the technical area during the stoppage, pointing frantically.
"Target the number 6! Target Lovren!"
Mourinho had identified the crack in the armor.
Van Dijk was imperious—fast, strong, unbeatable in the air. But his partner, Dejan Lovren, was the weak link.
The Croatian was aggressive but prone to panic under pressure. If Lukaku could pin Lovren, he could create chaos for Ling to exploit.
"I got it Boss!" Pogba nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead.
The match resumed, and the trap was set. Liverpool's midfield, missing the disciplined leadership of Jordan Henderson, began to look disjointed.
They relied heavily on intricate through balls that United's compact shape easily absorbed.
Two minutes later, the moment arrived.
Trent Alexander-Arnold and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain tried a one-two combination on the right.
Chamberlain attempted a through ball looking for Roberto Firmino, but Nemanja Matic read it like a children's book.
The Serbian intercepted the pass and quickly laid it off to Pogba.
Pogba controlled the ball with a languid touch. James Milner charged at him, looking to close him down.
Pogba didn't need time.
He channeled his inner Andrea Pirlo as he saw the picture before anyone else.
Boom.
With virtually no backlift, Pogba struck the underside of the ball. It was a laser-guided missile, a diagonal long pass that cut through the Liverpool shape like a knife.
It flew sixty yards toward the left channel.
Lukaku pulled away from Van Dijk, isolating himself against Lovren.
He used his massive body to back into the Croatian defender, turning himself into an immovable object.
Lovren climbed all over him, desperate to win the header, but Lukaku held firm.
With a grunt of effort, Lukaku won the flick-on, nodding the ball into the space behind the defensive line.
Simultaneously, a red lightning bolt surged forward.
Ling.
Trent Alexander-Arnold was the last line of defense on that side.
The young Scouser remembered his instructions: Don't dive in. Contain him.
He jockeyed backward, eyes locked on the ball.
Ling saw Arnold hesitating. His mind raced, using the reverse psychology he had been practicing with McTominay.
'How do I make him commit?' Ling thought. 'I have to make him believe he can win the ball.'
The ball dropped from the sky. Ling had trained his touch to perfection for months. He could kill a ball dead with his eyes closed. But this time, he let the ball bounce slightly further away from his foot than usual.
A heavy touch.
"Oh, a mistake!" Jamie Carragher shouted in the commentary box, his voice rising in excitement. "A heavy touch from Ling! Arnold has a chance! Go on lad!"
It looked like an error and the ball was loose.
Alexander-Arnold saw the daylight.
His instincts took over.
He lunged forward, sliding in to snatch the ball and launch a counter-attack.
'Gotcha.'
The moment Arnold committed his weight, Ling's body language changed.
The clumsiness vanished. He hadn't miscontrolled it because he had baited the trap!
Ling took a second touch—lightning fast. With the outside of his right boot, he flicked the ball away from Arnold's sliding tackle.
The defender grasped at thin air.
His momentum carried him past Ling, leaving the flank completely exposed.
"He sold him the dummy!" Gary Neville screamed. "He baited him in! That is genius!"
Ling exploded into the space. He drove toward the penalty area.
Lukaku was still wrestling with Lovren. That left only one man between Ling and the goal.
Virgil van Dijk.
"I GOT HIM!" Van Dijk shouted, abandoning Lukaku and charging across to cover.
They had faced each other when Van Dijk was at Southampton.
The Dutchman had been beaten then, but he blamed his teammates. Now, he was determined to win. He didn't retreat. He knew Lingard was making a run, so he had to end this now.
Van Dijk threw his massive frame into a sliding block.
He went to ground early, creating a wall of bronze flesh and bone. He covered the pass. He covered the low shot. There was no way through on the ground.
Two dimensions were blocked.
'What about the third?'
Ling's mind was still racing, but his body had already reacted.
The tip of his right foot suddenly flicked the ball upward, while his left foot forcefully pushed off the ground, propelling him into a leap.
Smack!
The ball lifted gracefully into the air.
Ling planted his left foot and leaped, hurdling over the sliding Van Dijk.
The world seemed to slow down for the Dutch defender. He looked up, helpless, as the red figure soared over him.
The ball bounced softly on the other side.
It was a breach of physics.
Van Dijk wanted to reach out and grab the ball with his hand, but he knew that meant a red card and a penalty. He could only watch and pray that Loris Karius could save them.
Ling landed and the ball bounced once.
He didn't smash it. He simply passed it into the far corner.
Loris Karius dived, but it was a token effort. The ball nestled into the side netting.
1-0 Manchester United.