The camera returned to the pitch.
BEEP!
Manchester City kicked off.
Gabriel Jesus passed backward to Rodri, who immediately moved the ball sideways toward De Bruyne.
"The classic Guardiola progression begins—short passes, constant movement, every player already thinking two actions ahead."
De Bruyne received the ball and lofted it toward Kyle Walker.
"That is excellent vision from De Bruyne!"
Walker controlled the ball and surged down the touchline.
Could Ashley Young keep up?
The answer was yes.
Barely.
This was where experience became crucial.
Professor Young used his arms, shoulder, and positioning to interfere constantly, preventing Walker from building full speed.
The two battled their way beyond the thirty-meter line before Walker abruptly cut the ball back and created space for a pass into Bernardo Silva.
Boom!
Before Bernardo, cutting inside toward the center, could bring the ball under control, Kanté and Nemanja Matić closed from opposite directions.
"Excellent defensive coordination in the half-space!"
"Mourinho's greatest strength has always been defensive organization, and this three-midfielder structure has been refined almost to perfection."
Kanté won the ball and immediately found Havertz, who lifted an inspired chipped pass into the channel.
"Grealish!"
A red torrent suddenly surged across the Etihad.
Ling's explosive run through the center attracted several defenders, opening a safer path for Grealish to carry the ball forward.
Within seconds, he reached the edge of the penalty area, where Angeliño moved across to confront him.
Grealish's dribbling style suited his personality.
Although he possessed unusually thick calves, he rarely relied on pure pace.
He preferred changes of rhythm, subtle shifts of balance, and sudden acceleration designed to convince defenders that a foul was their only remaining option.
Ling was tightly marked, leaving Grealish little choice but to take responsibility himself.
To be fair, he had performed well since arriving at Manchester United. However, because he was still new to the squad, he had initially been reluctant to take too many shots.
Whenever possession looked uncertain, he often chose a safe pass rather than risking an attack.
Half a season among Ling and United's collection of workaholics had changed him.
You became like the people around you.
When every teammate trained as though someone were trying to steal his place, even Grealish had been forced to grit his teeth and keep up.
His nightclub visits had dropped dramatically.
A series of quick feints sent Angeliño the wrong way, allowing Grealish to create enough space for a powerful left-footed strike.
"Grealish shoots!"
"Angeliño slides across and gets a touch, taking most of the power away before Ederson gathers comfortably."
Jim Beglin continued, "Angeliño is only around five-foot-seven, a typical smaller full-back with speed and a huge work rate. Guardiola likes that mobility, although at centre-back he still needs height. Against United, you simply can't field a defense that loses every cross."
While Beglin was still explaining, City had already launched their counterattack.
Ederson threw the ball toward Rodri.
The tall Spanish midfielder used his body to brush aside the slender Havertz and secure possession.
'Damn, I really need to bulk up.'
Havertz stumbled and almost fell, immediately realizing that the physical battle would be unpleasant.
There was no way around it.
The difference in strength was too great.
"Most managers would never dare play with only one holding midfielder against this United side," Drury said. "But Guardiola trusts Rodri to stand alone."
"He is the new metronome, the first organizer of City's attacks and the shield beneath them. His ability to contribute in both directions allows De Bruyne to play with greater freedom."
Rodri swept a long pass toward the stronger attacking side.
"What a switch! Technique, vision, and absolute confidence!"
The ball dropped into Sterling's path.
With his familiar dinosaur-like stride, Sterling forced his way beyond Wan-Bissaka.
Just as he prepared to accelerate again—
Smack!
The ball disappeared from his feet and reappeared under another player's control.
Thiago Silva.
The Brazilian had grown old in footballing terms, but his timing when providing cover, stepping into pressure, and intercepting passes remained among the best in the world.
Like Nesta before him, he compensated for declining speed with intelligence and experience.
Sterling's control was not always clean.
Thiago Silva waited for the second touch, recognized the moment the ball had drifted a fraction too far away, and attacked.
"Perfect timing from Thiago Silva!"
"But City counter-press immediately—the famous three-second reaction at the core of Guardiola's football!"
Thiago Silva was surrounded before he could turn and had no choice but to clear the ball forward.
The clearance appeared hopeful.
Then it dropped near Ling.
"Ling beneath it!"
"He holds off John Stones and Fernandinho together and still wins the first contact!"
The header fell toward Havertz.
At this stage of his career, before his growing height began to make his movement look awkward, every action from the young German carried a touch of imagination.
He used the outside of his right foot to nudge the ball around Rodri's pressing challenge, then immediately found Grealish making a diagonal run.
On the surface, United's transition looked smooth and rapid.
But those few seconds of delay gave Manchester City enough time to recover their defensive shape.
Ling initially tried to turn and support Grealish, only to find two powerful defenders following him closely, surrounding him from almost every angle.
"Grealish is tightly watched by Angeliño, while City have dragged United's open transition into a slower positional attack."
"Recycling possession may be the sensible option. Let's see whether Grealish agrees."
On the touchline, Guardiola's gestures changed so rapidly that he resembled a ninja performing hand seals.
This was the hallmark of his in-game management.
He wanted to turn every match into a video game, personally controlling every pass, every reception, and every run until his tactical plan was carried out without a single error.
On the opposite side, Mourinho stood calmly with his arms crossed, his grey Armani coat fluttering in the cold wind.
Then his eyebrow rose slightly.
Grealish stopped the ball.
Instead of passing back toward Herrera, he laid it horizontally across the edge of the penalty area.
As the camera followed the pass, Manchester United's number 7 came into view.
Fernandinho stood directly in front of him, body lowered into a textbook defensive stance.
John Stones adjusted quickly from the side, cutting off the most obvious route into the penalty area.
They would not give Ling the slightest opportunity.
Then Ling moved.
His center of gravity shifted rapidly as his right foot danced around the ball, one feint following another.
What was the essence of beating a defender?
Deception.
Convince him to react in the direction you wanted, and the escape became simple.
Fernandinho refused to bite.
Ling's movements appeared full of openings and temptation, each one urging the Brazilian's body to shift.
Fernandinho fought against his instincts, determined to wait until Ling revealed his true intention.
One second.
Two.
The moment lasted no time at all, yet for the ageing midfielder, it felt agonizingly long.
Suddenly, Ling lifted his right foot.
A push?
A cut?
Fernandinho's mind sounded the alarm, but his body responded like a car trying to restart after stalling.
A young defender might have recovered in an instant.
But Fernandinho was no longer young.
Before he could move, the tip of Ling's boot had already stabbed forward like a dagger.
Thwack!
The ball lifted instantly from the grass.
No one reacted.
Not Stones beside him.
Not Ederson in goal.
Not Guardiola on the touchline.
Everyone had expected Ling to dribble, create a clearer shooting lane, attack the box, or return the ball and reorganize.
Instead, he had shot before their minds could even identify the possibility.
Ederson could only turn his head mechanically and follow the flight of the ball as it sailed beyond him and into the net.
0–1!
For one heartbeat, the Etihad fell silent.
Then the red corner erupted.
Peter Drury's voice rose with it.
"LING—OH, HE HAS STOLEN THE MOMENT BEFORE MANCHESTER CITY EVEN KNEW IT EXISTED!"
"No warning, no space, barely even a backswing—just one sudden stab of the boot and a ball that flies beyond Ederson like a secret finally revealed!"
"Guardiola prepared for the dribble. Fernandinho waited for the feint. Stones guarded the road into the box."
"Jeremy Ling simply chose a road none of them had seen."
"Three days before he joins Guardiola's family, he has struck first against Guardiola's team!"
Jim Beglin shook his head in disbelief.
"That is so difficult to defend. Fernandinho actually stays patient and does almost everything correctly, but Ling shoots without setting himself in the conventional way. Ederson never gets the visual cue he needs. By the time he understands, it's already past him."
Ling turned toward the away end, arms spreading as the Manchester United supporters roared his name through the stunned Etihad.
The Manchester derby had barely begun.
The first wound had already been opened!