Guys. I think I might be smitten.
Ten minutes into the second half and Liverpool were more or less still in control of things. Surely that third goal would be coming soon.
Indeed it would be.
Mohamed Salah stole the ball away from an Arsenal defender— the last Arsenal defender, it turns out— and made a blistering run on toward goal. With nothing but clear sky, the net, and a brick-shitting Petr Cech in his way, Salah bolted toward goal the way I run at a fresh hot pizza. He made it to the box and worked his shot seamlessly into his stride, slotting past Cech and pushing the back of the net.
I love it. I love every part of it. I want to be its best friend.