The final whistle blew.
It was as if a period had been placed at the end of a sentence spelling humiliation for Old Trafford and it shattered whatever last shred of hope United's fans had been clinging to.
The Liverpool players embraced at the centre of the pitch, celebrating. The white of the away kit stood out with garish brightness against the grass of United's own home ground.
And this stadium—the one that carried the glory of the Red Devils, the Theatre of Dreams itself now held nothing but desolation.
Reduced to a backdrop for their bitterest rivals' celebration.
As the match ended, the visiting Liverpool fans made sure to twist the knife. The Reds' supporters had prepared a banner well in advance, one that read "David Moyes is a football genius," paired with a photo of Moyes himself, eyes wide with startled disbelief creating a masterstroke of mockery.
Not that Liverpool's fans even needed to bother.
By the final minutes, a great many United fans in the home end could no longer stomach it. They rose from their seats, cursing under their breath, and walked toward the exits.
As the whistle sounded, the once-packed stands emptied out with visible speed.
Fans were still shouting as they went.
"Rubbish! A team of has-beens!"
"Moyes, get out! Sack him now!"
They cursed as they walked, eyes burning with fury, muttering over and over: "Four-nil. Slaughtered at home. What a disgrace."
And this was the same season Liverpool had already thrashed them 6–0.
A century of shame was distilled into ninety minutes.
A record that had never existed before now existed and it had been born under Moyes.
Of course, the fans had nothing but contempt for him. They had witnessed United's glory days. They had never imagined the club would fall to their fiercest rival, on their own turf, in a manner this humiliating.
The crowd leaving the stadium was a chaotic, jostling tide, curses and sighs tangled together in the air.
On the pitch, the United players stood with their heads down, unable to look up at the stands, their figures looked small and forlorn. They could hear every word of the fans' fury and had no way to answer it.
This 4–0 catastrophe was one they could not escape blame for.
As for Moyes, the instant the whistle blew, he shook Klopp's hand, said nothing, and turned to walk briskly down the tunnel.
He did not linger to respond to the abuse raining down from the stands.
He knew exactly what was coming.
After a defeat like this, all that awaited him was an avalanche of doubt.
And calls for his head.
After the match, Martin Tyler gave his own verdict with a sigh. "The final whistle has gone, and Manchester United have been utterly demolished, four-nil, on their own ground. A humiliating defeat has descended upon Old Trafford.
Three North-West derbies this season, and United have lost every single one. Conceding double figures across those three meetings—the first time that has ever happened since these two clubs came into being.
"Looked at another way, Moyes has broken yet another record with this United side.
Liverpool, tonight, delivered an impressive statement of a victory, proving to the entire footballing world just how good they are. They deserve this win and they deserve to be champions of England this season.
From the opening penalty, through relentless pressure, to De Rocca, Gerrard, and Sturridge taking turns to strike—every single Liverpool attack tonight showed top-class quality.
There was no weakness at any end of the pitch. Total cohesion. This version of Liverpool is, frankly, terrifying.
I'll say it without exaggeration: Liverpool are going to win their first Premier League title in the club's history.
Ever since the managerial change and the big-money reinforcements in the winter window, their form has been remarkably steady, remarkably dominant. Whether they're facing a giant like United or grinding out results against mid-table sides, they win comfortably and their points tally is running away from the rest of the league.
Tonight's 4–0 demolition is a full declaration of their supremacy. So long as they don't suffer a catastrophic slip-up from here, so long as they keep their heads—then this season's title belongs to Liverpool."
Then, his tone shifting to something thoughtful, Tyler continued: "Perhaps what we're seeing return tonight is something bigger—the era of English football under Liverpool's rule.
Last century, Liverpool were the kings of English football. They dominated the entire domestic game, forged legend after legend, wrote chapter after chapter of glory.
And then came the long, dark valley. The long wait.
"Now—finally, they are rising again. A powerful squad with sky-high, morale showing exactly the swagger of the champions, they once were.
Perhaps, starting tonight, English football is entering the age of Liverpool's rule once more.
And on the other side of this story: United. Once the Red Devils. Now in evident decline, and it is a genuinely sad thing to watch.
Before this season, United were the other great legend of English football—European champions, Premier League kings.
And now, they've been torn apart 4–0 by their fiercest rival, on home soil, their players are low on morale, their tactics in disarray, none of the old swagger or fighting spirit seems left in them.
Since Moyes took charge, he has never found the right direction, and the team's performances have collapsed. The fans' frustration keeps rising, and tonight's disaster may simply be a microcosm of United's decline.
We have to admit: the rise and fall in football can be brutally cruel.
If Liverpool ruled the last century of English football, building an entire era of legend around the Reds—then United ruled this century. They picked up Liverpool's fallen banner and, under Sir Alex Ferguson, swept across English football, collecting trophy after trophy, becoming an article of faith for countless fans.
And now, Liverpool are rising again, while United sink into a trough. The contrast is enough to leave anyone shaking their head."
Finally, Tyler closed with something hopeful. "As a commentator, I witnessed United's glory, and I feel real regret watching their decline now.
I hope United can climb out of this trough soon—confront their own problems honestly, adjust their tactics, rebuild the squad, and find their way back. Find that old Red Devils swagger again. Stand once more at the summit of English football.
Because the beauty of English football needs Liverpool's strength but it also needs a giant like United.
It needs these two century-old rivals to keep writing the story of the Merseyside–Manchester rivalry. To keep giving the fans matches worth watching."
At that very moment, back at the Boot Room pub, the roof was nearly coming off from the cheering, the shouting, the applause.
Four–nil!
The Reds had trampled Old Trafford into the dirt!
And there was even more to celebrate: this win completed Liverpool's clean sweep over United for the entire season—three wins in three derbies, it was a brand-new chapter in the history of this fixture.
On the television screen, the Liverpool players embraced on the Old Trafford turf. Gerrard threw his arms into the air, with Julien and Sturridge and the others crowding around him and roaring.
Inside the pub, the fans jumped and cheered right along with the broadcast. Some pounded the tables and howled. Some waved their pint glasses in the air. A few had tears in their eyes, wiping their faces, repeating the same words over and over: "We won! We actually won! Four-nil! Three-nil in the derbies this season!"
In the middle of the crowd, Ted stood by a table, his face had flushed red, his eyes were burning with fever-pitch excitement.
He clapped with all his strength, his voice was louder than anyone else's but, unlike every other time, he didn't reach for a pint to guzzle down.
The wager he'd made back in the first half.
If you were a man, you kept your word!
"Liverpool, you beauty! Steven, you beauty! Julien, you beauty!" Ted roared, practically bursting with pride.
The fans around him turned to look, grinning, needling him. "Oi, Ted, seriously not drinking? It's a four-nil win, mate—three-nil in the derbies! A day like this and you're not having a pint? What a waste!"
Ted nodded firmly, thumping his own chest. "Damn right I'm not! I'm a man of my word! George, you bet me—if the lads won tonight, I don't touch a drop until the next time we lose. Forget the derby sweep, even if we win the league, I can hold out!"
Another fan with pint of ice-cold lager beer in hand, leaned in close and dangled the glass right under Ted's nose, the smell of the beer was wafting up. "Come on, Ted, just one little sip, no one'll know. You can quit tomorrow. A win this big and you're not celebrating properly? Come on, drink up!"
Ted's nose twitched. A temptation flickered behind his eyes.
The man loved his drink more than anything. Even after a loss, in the old days, he'd needed a few pints just to feel right again, so what about a win this glorious?
The pull of that beer, anyone could imagine it.
Without thinking, his hand started to reach for the glass but he caught himself. Shook his head hard, and turned on the man with mock outrage. "You little sod—trying to sabotage me on purpose, are you? Trying to make me break my word so Jenny's got something new to nag me about? Not a chance!"
The whole pub erupted in laughter.
"Ha! Ted's scared of Jenny!"
"Looks like George's trick worked! If Jenny finds out Ted's actually quitting, she owes you a proper thank-you, George!"
"Remember the time Ted got so drunk he passed out on the street and Jenny cried her eyes out? Well, there you go—turns out it just took Liverpool to sober him up!"
Ted scratched his head. "I'm not scared of Jenny! This is for Liverpool, for the title! As long as the lads keep winning, I'll keep not drinking!"
George laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man, Ted. Take it one step at a time. Start by holding to tonight's bet and when the lads actually win the league, I'll pour you the celebration pint myself. Once your wager's done, mind."
"Deal!"
Ted nodded firmly, then rose and shouted to the whole pub, "Alright, lads water instead of beer, cheers! Here's to Liverpool sweeping United this season, and here's to lifting that Premier League trophy soon!"
"Cheers! Come on Liverpool!"
Glasses rose all around the room with beer, soda, whatever people had clinking together, the sharp ring of the toast echoed through the pub.
While Liverpool's fans celebrated their triumph with joy, United's fans flooded social media, venting their fury at Moyes.
And beneath every post cursing Moyes, a few voices rose up in his defence though a closer look revealed exactly who they were: Liverpool fans.
All of them saying the same thing: Thank you, Moyes.
Because during the Ferguson era, Liverpool had managed only a single win away at Old Trafford in nearly ten years. It was a dismal record.
And tonight, they'd made up for all of it in one match.
Plenty of United fans were furious and had begun insisting that Moyes's utterly gameplan-less approach had led directly to this humiliation.
Away at City, they'd conceded four and lost by three. Away at Chelsea, they'd shipped three. And now, even at home against Liverpool, they'd conceded four again!
What was left that they couldn't lose to?
An open goal for anyone who showed up!
Someone posted a photo from the stands showing Ferguson himself, his expression looked impossible to describe.
Fans everywhere were saying the same thing.
"Maybe Ferguson should just come out of retirement."
"One of Sir Alex's greatest achievements at United was dragging Liverpool down off their throne. And Moyes? It took him all of eight months to drag United off theirs."
"Liverpool are lucky, because United have a Moyes. United are lucky too because they only have one Moyes."
Other United fans laid out three reasons Moyes had to be sacked.
"One: disastrous transfer business.
Two: tactical incompetence.
Three: fans are already starting to turn on the club, and that's poison for the institution."
One United supporter even worked current events into his takedown:
"There are two mysteries the whole world can't figure out right now. One is what happened to MH370. The other is whatever tactical plan Moyes thinks he's running at United. Honestly, I wish Moyes had been on that flight—the crew of MH370 probably have a better shot at keeping their jobs than Moyes does."
Even the betting sites had suspended odds on Moyes being sacked. There wasn't much point anymore.
It left United fans laughing bitterly. Even the bookies had frozen the market! Clearly the betting companies wanted to cut their losses before this got any worse.
Of course, when the MH370 reference came up, Liverpool's fans in Asia felt a pang of something heavier than schadenfreude.
After the match, the daughter of Andrew Nari, the flight's purser, posted on Twitter: "Dad, Liverpool won. Come home and watch the replay. You never miss a match. This is the first time you have."
No one knew, even now, what had actually happened to MH370.
But there was still that flicker of hope people held onto.
Underneath the tweet, Liverpool fans left message after message, praying for Andrew.
As the storm on social media kept building, the post-match press conference brought Moyes's own remarks into the mix.
Moyes questioned some of the referee's penalty calls, but he also admitted that Liverpool had simply been the better side, and that his own team had come up short.
"Yes, they were better than us today, and the timing of their penalties worked in their favour. It was an extremely difficult day for us.
We'll keep fighting until the very end and see where we land. A top-four finish might be a stretch now, but we won't stop trying.
As for the penalty decisions in this match—it's hard to comment on them fairly. Some were correct calls. Some weren't.
Liverpool played well, but the timing of those penalties was, frankly, perfect for them. Honestly, those are the kind of incidents that could go either way on a normal day but tonight, every single one went their way.
I'd rather not say much more about it. I'll leave that to the FA to sort out. All I can ask for is a fair hearing.
The players gave everything they had. In the first half, honestly, neither side created much—the penalty was the turning point, and it handed them the initiative. Still, we were only down 0–1 at the break, and that too came from a penalty, so I didn't think our situation was as dire as it looked.
But conceding another penalty just twenty seconds into the second half—after that, we were climbing a mountain, and the match got very difficult indeed."
No matter what Moyes said now, United's fans were going to tear into him regardless.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Gerrard offered his own thoughts in a quick post-match interview.
"I've played plenty of matches here at Old Trafford. United are a strong side and this is one of the toughest away grounds in the entire Premier League. But today, we controlled the match from start to finish. We're a little disappointed we only got four, we could have scored more."
When asked about his own goals, Gerrard said.
"Personally, it's been a dream of a day. I scored twice, and Liverpool got the win here too. Before the match I said this would be a hard fight, and that we needed to take it one game at a time and try to win everything in front of us.
Today, we did exactly that. Everyone enjoyed this match, but we need to look ahead quickly—next up is the FA Cup against Everton, and that's going to be difficult too. They're our rivals as well, and they won't make it easy for us."
On Liverpool's title chances, Gerrard was firm. "I think today we showed we're genuine title contenders, and we should fight for it right to the end.
We believe in ourselves—I've said this plenty of times, talk is the easiest thing in football.
We need to beat our next league opponent, Cardiff City, the same way we beat United today, and then Sunderland after that. If we can keep playing like we did tonight, we'll win a lot of matches, and we'll have a real shot at competing for the title. We're full of confidence."
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!