Away Days: Anfield (Part 4)
The match resumed only after the grounds crew cleared every scrap of debris from the pitch.
Liverpool desperately needed three points at home against a newly promoted side, whereas Luton Town could comfortably walk away with a badge of honor—the classic "fought valiantly despite the loss"—even if they conceded right this second and crumbled. The clock was pressing down on Liverpool, and Liverpool alone.
"There's still time! Work it calmly from the back!"
Liverpool manager Dittmann shouted from the touchline, pleading for composure from his frantic squad. But this was Anfield. The suffocating, furnace-like passion exhaled by the home supporters had a way of turning into poison when things went awry.
Liverpool's passing precision frayed around the edges. To plug the widening gaps, their entire defensive line pushed higher up the pitch, desperate to smother Luton with a suffocating press. Yet leaving that much green grass behind them was suicidal—repeat it once or twice, and Liverpool's defensive third stood completely hollowed out.
And if a high press collapsed in territory like that...
[Dominic! He wriggles free from three red shirts!]
A lethal counterattack was born.
[He doesn't hesitate—he boots it straight into the open channel! Lee Han is off! Lee Han! Two defenders, one attacker!]
Emir and Luke, having both dropped deep to aid the defense, couldn't keep pace as I exploded forward from the halfway line. Liverpool's rearguard scrambled to cover: central defender Rahman, left-sided stopper List, and Alan, who had dropped back to orchestrate their transition from deep.
[He’s flying! Look at him go!]
[With regulation time all but expired! Lee Han sprints forward to bury this match once and for all!]
They weren't Liverpool players for nothing. Determined not to repeat the humiliation of the first half, Rahman kept a disciplined distance to shut down my shooting window, while List and Alan converged diagonally from both flanks.
When closed down from every angle, an off-balance shot was useless—I needed absolute certainty.
Feinting hard to the left, I poked the ball cleanly between List's legs. Leaving him tumbling to the turf with crossed wires, I burst into the penalty box and chopped back hard against my momentum.
As a seasoned center-back whose primary instinct was suffocating shooting angles, Rahman didn't bite too heavily on the feint. But Alan was different.
He was a midfielder.
No doubt he possessed a firm grasp of defensive fundamentals, but when forced into emergency rearguard action under blinding panic, his lack of positional discipline was naked to the world. As I dragged the ball across to the right, Alan lunged forward in desperation, his body caught in reverse motion, leg fully extended.
I steered my stride directly into his outstretched limb.
Or rather, to put it precisely, I made sure I tumbled over it.
The ball was already rolling cleanly to the right, completely unimpeded, but I went crashing down onto the manicured turf.
TWEEEEET!
The referee's whistle cut sharp and decisive through the air behind me.
[He points to the spot! The referee awards a penalty!]
[Even on the replay, that is a stonewall foul. Whatever Alan’s intentions might have been, sticking a trailing leg out so blatantly in a prime goalscoring position leaves the official with no choice whatsoever!]
Alan and his teammates swarmed the referee, but their protests fell on deaf ears. The man in black stood resolute.
Moments later, the match ball sat motionless atop the white chalk of the penalty spot.
[Here it is—eleven meters of roulette. Lee Han stands over the ball, and Liverpool's Acacio readies himself between the posts. A fierce, silent battle of nerves!]
[If he converts this spot-kick, he becomes only the fourth player in history to bag a hat-trick at Anfield, following Leandro Trossard, while setting a staggering milestone of four consecutive matches with a hat-trick.]
[With this almost guaranteed to be the match-winner, an immense weight rests upon Lee Han's shoulders.]
[Listen to the Anfield crowd! The Liverpool supporters are showering Lee Han in a deafening tempest of boos! It’s directly in front of the home stand, and the hostility is off the charts!]
[They always say the penalty taker holds the upper hand, but at Anfield, suffocated by an atmosphere this venomous, that conventional wisdom goes right out the window.]
[Spot on. Let’s hope Lee Han doesn't let the hostility rattle him and finishes the job.]
If Han had been in the driver's seat, he probably would have deferred the penalty to Captain Teddy. But I had zero interest in doing that.
Just like I always did, completely tuning out the goalkeeper and the sea of red howling behind the net, I paced backward and set my feet.
[He begins his approach!]
[The keeper shuffles along the line, trying everything to get inside his head, but ever since placing the ball down, Lee Han hasn't looked at anything else! Absolute ice in his veins!]
A measured walk from deep, accelerating into an effortless stride.
Reaching the dead ball, my left plant foot gripped the turf with unyielding stability, and my right leg whipped through like a coiled spring.
CRACK!
The instant the laces struck leather, I unweighted my plant foot, letting my kicking leg drive through the follow-through with pure, untamed momentum.
Reading the trajectory, the goalkeeper hurled his frame across the goalmouth with every ounce of strength he possessed. But when struck with flawless technique, a penalty is simply beyond human reach.
The ball screamed into the upper corner—the unreachable Yashin Zone.
RIPPLE!
The net billowed violently. The keeper crashed uselessly against the grass, and the stands of Anfield plunged into hollow, suffocating despair.
For the first time all afternoon, Luton Town held the lead.
[IT’S IN! A HAT-TRICK! A HAT-TRICK! Right in the beating heart of Liverpool! He’s conquered Anfield with a hat-trick!!]
Marching directly toward the stand that had rained venom down upon me, I unveiled my celebration for all of Merseyside to admire.
I extended my index, middle, and ring fingers one by one. Then, pressing those three fingers tightly together, I clamped them flat against my lips.
Three goals. Isn't it about time you lot shut your mouths?
Unsurprisingly, the Kopites erupted into uncontrollable fury at the gesture.
[Lee Han delivers his reply straight into the teeth of the jeering Liverpool supporters, and the home end is absolutely seething!]
[To pull off a celebration like that in an environment this hostile... the audacity of this young man is unbelievable.]
Now this is what football is about.
In this sport, getting showered in pure hatred was the highest form of praise.
Soaking in the chaos with a leisurely grin, I methodically burned away every remaining second of stoppage time.
This is bodycam footage from the referee. Go watch it and feel what that pressure was actually like.
— It dropped, so I brought over the transcript.
(Direct word-for-word translation, zero distortion).
Q: Does touching the 'This is Anfield' sign suggest an interest in transferring here?
A: What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that? I just touched it as a souvenir because I was here, exactly like every other celebrity does. There is zero hidden meaning behind it. If anyone twists my words into an article, I'm suing immediately.
Q: How does it feel to win today's match?
A: Naturally, it feels incredible. Even more so having scored a hat-trick at Anfield. I have no hard feelings toward the defeated Liverpool fans. I did have some grievances with Alan Shankly, but since he conceded the penalty and handed us the victory, I've decided to let bygones be bygones. Though I bet he's fucking (not paraphrasing, he literally said "fucking") furious right now.
Q: Regarding that, there were reports of a heated verbal exchange with Alan Shankly prior to kickoff?
A: ......Alan Shankly suggested that I come to Liverpool. We had some bad blood, but we blew it all away out on the pitch. Moving forward, I hope we can engage in healthy competition.
Q: What was the meaning behind the celebration after converting your penalty?
A: What celebration...... Ah. I was simply so overwhelmed with joy after completing the hat-trick that I blew a kiss toward the heavens. It was by no means intended as a protest or provocation toward the Liverpool supporters. If any fans interpreted it that way, I offer my apologies.
Q: That's three consecutive league hat-tricks. Your thoughts, and what are your plans moving forward?
A: It's a special milestone, but I know it won't continue indefinitely. In fact, speaking personally, I feel there is still much I haven't accomplished. I will continue striving so our Luton Town supporters won't be disappointed.
Translating all of this was exhausting. I made sure to preserve every subtle nuance of English phrasing, so whatever vibe you pick up reading this is exactly what went down.
(Attaches gif of him repeatedly covering his mouth in front of Liverpool fans_jpg)
Everyone was happy.
He firmly declared that they would settle the score without fail in their next encounter.
......Well, everyone except for one single man.