Brendan Rodgers was pacing again, muttering to himself. His assistant leaned in, said something into his ear. Rodgers didn't respond.
Meanwhile, Suárez jogged back slowly, sweat streaming down his face, jersey clinging to his chest. He glanced up at the big screen, saw the replay of his miss, and looked away.
[We're approaching the 37th minute now, Peter. Time's running out in this first half.]
[And it's still AZ Alkmaar holding that 1–0 lead. You'd never guess it watching the game.]
Liverpool won another throw-in, deep in AZ Alkmaar territory. Johnson took it quickly to Gerrard, who slipped it to Henderson, who flicked it forward to Allen.
It was sharp. Quick. Controlled chaos.
Allen cut it back to Gerrard at the top of the 18 yard box.
[He's lining one up again—]
He struck through the ball, low and hard.
Alvarado saw it late, but he got down—again—strong wrists, sharp hands. Another save.
[ALVARADO! Again and again and again!]
