Peter Drury: "City come again down the flank, and De Bruyne has seen the picture early. That is a sweeping pass out to the left, and Leroy Sané is already tearing into the space."
Jim Beglin: "That's the threat, Peter. Sané has fresh legs, he wants to isolate the full-back, and if he gets half a yard, he can put the ball across goal before the defence has time to set."
Sané surged forward and drove the ball hard across the six-yard box.
Peter Drury: "Across the face of goal—Aguero is waiting!"
Jim Beglin: "Maguire! That is a huge clearance. He's read the danger brilliantly there, because if that ball gets through, Aguero only needs the faintest touch."
Peter Drury: "Harry Maguire, with a very big intervention on a very big stage. Manchester United's defending has been tested all season, but today, in moments like that, you can see the steel that has been hammered into them."
Jim Beglin: "He's grown into this back line, Peter. He still has the odd moment where you wonder what he's thinking, but that was exactly what United paid for: presence, timing, and the nerve to deal with danger when the penalty area is on fire."
Maguire had not come cheap when Manchester United bought him from Leicester City.
United had paid a heavy premium, and at the time, plenty of people had laughed at the fee.
Fortunately, "Slabhead" had slowly proven his value, establishing himself as a starter and building a solid partnership with David Luiz.
Of course, he still had the occasional lapse, the kind of moment where even his teammates could only stare at him in disbelief, but overall, he had justified the money.
At the very least, he no longer looked like a man trying to turn an oil tanker every time someone ran in behind him.
"Harry, your turning speed has improved a lot lately," Ling teased as they jogged back into shape.
"Secret training?"
The moment that was mentioned, Maguire's face turned bitter.
"I've lost two full kilos. Of course I'm quicker now."
Recently, to shed the extra weight, he had been forced into cardio every single day.
Because of his size, he could not simply run endlessly without risking his knees, so his routine had become a rotating torture chamber of swimming, cycling, gym work, and more cycling.
For a man built like a small wall, the process had been pure suffering.
"I wish I could put on weight like you," Maguire muttered with open envy.
"Don't start." Ling waved him off. "Forcing myself to eat according to that meal plan every day nearly made me hate food."
No matter how scientific a nutrition plan was, it was rarely enjoyable.
Chicken breast, broccoli, pasta, plain rice, carefully measured portions—how could that compare to burgers, kebabs, or late-night lamb skewers?
Maintaining that kind of discipline every day, year after year, was not something ordinary players could manage.
During the brief pause for substitutions, the two exchanged a few more words before their attention snapped back to the match.
Peter Drury: "And now Mourinho makes his move. We're into the sixty-fourth minute, and United are changing the shape of their legs, if not the shape of their soul."
Jim Beglin: "McTominay comes on for Herrera, Luke Shaw replaces Ashley Young. It's very Mourinho, really. Once he has the lead, he adds more security, more legs, and more defensive structure, then trusts the team to counter when the space opens."
Peter Drury: "And with Jeremy Ling on the pitch, even a so-called defensive counterattack can look like a blade drawn from nowhere."
Jim Beglin: "Exactly. United's counter is dangerous because of his efficiency. They don't need five or six chances when Ling is running at defenders. One clean transition can be enough."
With less than thirty minutes remaining, the sunlight was no longer as fierce as it had been at the start, though the heat still hung over Wembley like a punishment.
Ling glanced up at the sky and found himself wishing for a few clouds. Even a brief shadow would have made the match feel less suffocating.
Unfortunately, football rarely cared about what players wanted.
The temperature had dropped slightly, but the intensity only grew.
Manchester City seized the moment during United's substitutions and began launching wave after wave down the right, with De Bruyne pushing higher and dictating the attacks.
Bernardo Silva soon reminded everyone of his technical quality, using his quick feet to wriggle past Luke Shaw before breaking into the box and firing toward the near post.
At the crucial moment, De Gea dropped low and blocked the shot with his shin.
The rebound caused instant chaos.
Aguero reacted quickest, stabbing the ball toward goal, but David Luiz threw himself across the line and blocked it.
Wan-Bissaka did not bother with anything pretty after that; he simply smashed the ball clear, sending it spinning back toward the centre circle.
"Watch out!" Otamendi shouted.
Laporte looked up and saw Ling charging toward the dropping ball.
His heart tightened, and he hurried into position, trying to claim the landing spot before United's number 7 could get there.
Thud!
The two collided heavily, shoulder against shoulder, and Laporte was forced half a step backward.
The Manchester United fans were already raising their hands, ready to erupt, because Ling had won the better position.
But his first touch was slightly loose, the ball popping away from him before he could bring it under control.
Otamendi pounced on the chance and cleared it out of play.
"Huff—huff—huff—"
Ling stayed down on the turf, chest rising and falling hard as he gulped in air.
His stamina was almost gone.
The sun had drained him more than he expected.
Intense running in high temperatures did not merely burn energy; it stripped the body, disturbed the balance of fluids and electrolytes, and invited cramps to crawl up the muscles.
Ling could already feel his calves twitching, tightening in warning, as if they might seize up at any moment.
"Can you keep going?"
Mourinho's face suddenly blocked the sunlight as he leaned over him, concern cutting through his usually stern expression.
"Ten more minutes at most."
Ling pushed himself up from the grass.
The match had only just passed the hour mark, but his running distance had already exceeded 10.7 kilometres, more than many players managed across a full game.
If he compared himself to someone like Dimitar Berbatov, the difference became almost ridiculous.
Berbatov had once recorded one of the lowest running distances in a match, barely over two thousand metres.
Ling wished he could play with that kind of ease.
But he could not.
"I understand." Mourinho nodded. "I'll bring you off soon. Until then, keep running."
Faria, standing nearby, could not hold back a sigh.
"Boss, in this 4-3-1-2, the attacking intensity up front just isn't enough. Ling is carrying almost all of it by himself."
His voice lowered slightly.
"I don't think there's another player in the world right now who could do what he's doing. We have to be careful with him. If something happens to him, what then?"
"The situation is what it is," Mourinho replied, and for once, there was real helplessness in his voice.
"I don't have another choice."
Manchester City were one of the strongest teams in Europe.
Their attacking lineup was loaded with talent, and their tactical system suited those players almost perfectly.
Containing them was never going to be easy.
If United had used a double pivot instead of a three-man midfield screen, their defensive structure might already have been torn open before the fiftieth minute.
But the three-man shield naturally weakened their attacking power, which meant United had to lean heavily on Ling's individual threat.
And the truth was, watching his own player run himself into the ground hurt Mourinho more than he showed.
Football history was full of young stars who had been overused, broken down by endless minutes, endless pressure, and endless expectation until their bodies betrayed them.
Mourinho did not want Ling to become another name on that list.
He was already worrying about the Champions League final as well.
Without Kanté's coverage in midfield and defence, United's stability would inevitably suffer.
"Let's secure today first," Mourinho said quietly.
...
On the Manchester City bench, Guardiola glanced toward Mourinho with visible irritation.
'Is this how you treat my future son-in-law?'
What a waste of talent!
The more Guardiola thought about it, the more annoyed he became.
He stepped toward the touchline and shouted, "Control the midfield! Work your way into their half! Don't force the vertical pass too early!"
The heat, the scoreline, and the pressure of chasing the game had all made the City players restless.
Instinctively, they wanted the killer pass.
They wanted the forward ball that could break everything open at once.
But United's defensive density in their own half left very little room to exploit.
Most of City's passes were either intercepted or forced backward, and if not for their immediate counter-pressing after losing possession, United might have punished them with another lightning transition.
Before anyone quite realized it, the match had entered the seventieth minute.
United had yet to make their final substitution, while Manchester City made the first move.
Guardiola replaced Sergio Aguero with Gabriel Jesus.
Mourinho's eyelid twitched.
Had Guardiola lost his mind?
Replacing a striker at such a crucial stage was one thing, but doing it while the midfield was already fighting exhaustion was another.
Was he not worried the centre of the pitch would collapse?
But after Gabriel Jesus came on, City's attacking intensity suddenly rose.
In just five minutes, they created two shots, both on target.
Compared to Aguero, Jesus was not as ruthless in the box and his positioning was not as elite, but he was quicker, fresher, and had a huge engine.
To put it simply, he was more dangerous without the ball than with it.
Just moments earlier, it was Jesus's off-ball movement that dragged most of United's defensive attention away, giving De Bruyne enough space to step forward and fire from range.
Peter Drury: "City are beginning to stretch the final nerve of this Manchester United defence. Possession against resistance, control against defiance — and now the clock is becoming part of the drama."
Jim Beglin: "This is the period United have to survive, Peter. The way these two teams play affects their energy differently. City make the ball do a lot of the running, while United's defensive game demands constant shifting, chasing, closing, and recovering."
Peter Drury: "After seventy minutes, tired legs begin to tell the truth. Spaces appear where there were none, decisions come half a second late, and finals can turn on moments exactly like these."