Peter nodded again, slowly this time.
[But they didn't stop. That last move—right until the whistle. Suárez on the turn, off the post again. That wasn't panic. That was belief.]
[Or stubbornness.]
[Same thing when you're losing.]
Another soft laugh from John. He reached for a sip of water.
[What do you change, then?]
Peter didn't answer right away. The camera shifted again—to the crowd, to the chanting fans behind the goal. Red scarves waving. Someone banging a drum.
[Maybe Coutinho comes in. They need more creativity through the middle.]
[What about Sturridge?]
[Could stretch the back line. But that means pulling someone. Who do you drop?]
[Gerrard? Never.]
[Henderson? He's been excellent.]
[Suárez? Don't even say it.]
They let that hang a moment. The energy dipped slightly, but only just.
[Then you look at the back. Skrtel's been solid. Johnson's given them width.]
[Agger's been… there.]
Peter smirked.
[Which sometimes is enough.]
