Score: Liverpool 5 – 0 Norwich
Goalscorer:
Azim (9' minute, 19' minute, & 24' minute)
Sturridge (32' minute & 39' minute)
---
Azim (ST) stood at the edge of the final third, just outside the arc. The ball rolled into his stride from Firmino (CAM), a gentle pass off the instep of James Milner (CDM) — no spin, no bounce. The timing was divine. The weight was perfect. The moment had arrived.
He didn't look at the goal.
He didn't need to.
He'd seen it ten seconds earlier — the way Ruddy (GK) had leaned forward on his last save, his weight already programmed to overcommit. Sébastien Bassong (CB) and Russell Martin (CB) were flat-footed, gasping. Neither pressed.
They couldn't.
IS SYSTEM ALERT
Keeper Pre-Lean: Left-hip weight transfer detected — 0.46s recovery lag
Execution Type: Chip — Top Mid Arc | Optimal Launch: 0.92s
Elevation Target: 2.31m | Hang Time: 1.01s
Azim (ST) let the ball roll half a pace more, then shifted his weight — not backwards, not forwards — but into balance.
He struck under the ball.
Not a flick. Not a lob.
A chip.
A true one. Clean. Pure. Cold.
It rose not in panic, but with poise — like a whisper released into the air.
Ruddy (GK) flinched. Raised one hand. Too slow.
The ball glided above his crown and curled just beneath the bar.
A hush fell across Anfield.
Then, NET.
Martin Tyler:
"ARRRGHH!! He's done it again! Azim. This time… he doesn't run through you. He floats past you."
Gary Neville:
"You don't save that. You can't. That's... genius disguised as simplicity."
John Ruddy (GK) remained crouched, looking behind him in disbelief. Russell Martin (CB) let his hands fall to his knees. Sébastien Bassong (CB) turned his back completely, facing the Main Stand as if trying to walk away from what had just happened.
And Azim? He didn't stop. He kept running.
Toward the corner flag. Toward the Kop. Toward his people.
He planted his feet on the chalk line.
And then:
FIST PUMP – LEFT.
FIST PUMP – RIGHT.
FIST PUMP – LEFT.
FIST PUMP – RIGHT.
4 swings=4 goals
With every swing, the stadium shook. A punch to the heart of the sky.
Stadium Announcer:
"GOAL FOR LIVERPOOL!"
"Scorer — number 9… ABDUL!
Fans: "AZIM!"
"ABDUL!" "AZIM!" "ABDUL!" "AZIM!"
"His FOURTH of the match!"
"Liverpool 6 — Norwich City 0!"
The camera cut to Klopp.
He was running wildly in touchline area-fist pumped.
Pep Lijnders whispered: "They won't forget this. Ever."
Norwich walked back toward halfway. It wasn't football anymore. It was penance.
John Ruddy (GK) didn't speak to anyone. He didn't even pick up the ball. He left it in the net.
Martin (CB) had his hands on his hips, staring at the pitch like it had betrayed him. Dorrans (CDM) jogged with his eyes down. No words. No resistance.
Azim (ST) walked back with a grin on his lips, but his eyes were calm. Coutinho (LW) patted his back. Firmino (CAM) laughed in disbelief. Milner (CDM) just muttered:
"That's not normal."
Daniel Sturridge (RW) caught up beside him.
"You chipped him like you were ordering tea."
Azim (ST) shrugged. "He gave it to me."
Referee Anthony Taylor walked toward the center circle, looking at the fourth official.
No injuries. No stoppages. Nothing to add.
He looked at Norwich. Looked at Liverpool.
Then looked at the watch.
45:00. On the dot.
WHISTLE. WHISTLE.
The half ended.
Early, clean, merciful.
Anfield didn't roar. It applauded.
A rising wave of claps — not for a goal. But for the performance. For the control. For the orchestration.
Azim (ST) turned one last time before the tunnel and looked toward the Kop.
No gesture. Just a look.
As if to say: I hear you. I always did.
----
Klopp waited just outside the tunnel.
Azim (ST) jogged in slowly, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Enough goals," Klopp said, voice low. "Next half—we defend our house."
Azim (ST) nodded.
The rest would wait.
The tunnel swallowed the noise.
For forty-five minutes, Abdul Azim had been submerged in floodlight and roar. Now, under the cool, humming fluorescents of the Anfield tunnel, silence returned. The kind that made your heartbeat feel too loud.
Philippe Coutinho slapped his hands together as he entered the changing room, breathing heavily but laughing under his breath.
Daniel Sturridge leaned back against the wall, hands on hips, shaking his head. "Four," he muttered. "And we didn't even get out of third gear."
Milner (C) was the last to enter before Klopp. He glanced over at Azim, who hadn't sat down yet.
"Feel okay?" Milner asked.
Azim nodded. "Yeah."
The room was buzzing—players exchanging grins, the staff replaying moments aloud—until Klopp walked in.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't clap. He didn't smile.
He just closed the door behind him. Slowly.
Silence.
Klopp stepped forward, hands behind his back. He paced slowly in front of the whiteboard, eyes on the ground. Then he looked up, scanning every player.
"Good half," he said finally. "Maybe the best I've seen."
No one moved.
"But it's done now," Klopp continued. "Because there's something more important than scoring six. Or seven. Or eight."
He turned to Azim. Not calling him out—just... acknowledging him.
"They know they've lost," Klopp said. "You don't have to bury them."
He turned to the board and drew one shape.
4-2-3-1.
"Second half," Klopp said, "we press only when the moment is perfect. We sit in our block. We control the game. Keep playing entertaining football for our fans."
He looked at the midfielders.
"Ball circulation only. Break if we have to."
Then his tone changed—deeper now.
"They're not our rivals. They're not our enemies. They're men. Some have kids. Parents watching at home. You've made your point."
He turned back toward Azim.
"Now let the badge speak for itself."
The players nodded. Some sat up straighter.
Klopp looked across the squad one last time.
"Let's show them what Anfield means. Not just when we're winning. But when we're finished winning."
Outside the walls, the first whispers of "You'll Never Walk Alone" drifted back through the tunnel. The crowd was already singing again.
It was warm.
Coutinho stood. Stretched.
Milner cracked his knuckles.
The second half waited.
The second half began in silence—not because Anfield was quiet, but because it was listening.
Azim (ST) stood alone up top, planted like a lighthouse—visible but untouched.
Norwich emerged with something bordering on pride. Not belief—they didn't have that anymore—but duty. Redmond (LW) clapped his hands loudly before the restart. Dorrans (CDM) shouted encouragement. Hoolahan (CAM) pointed toward the left channel.
The referee blew the whistle. The half resumed.
Redmond (LW) tried first, taking on Clyne (RB) with a hard push inside. He made ground, stepped through a shoulder-check, and released a pass to Hoolahan (CAM), who found Dorrans (CDM) trailing late at the top of the arc.
For the first time in nearly forty minutes, Norwich had numbers forward.
But Lucas Leiva (CDM) was already there.
Clean tackle. No foul. No noise.
Just one touch to Firmino (CAM), then outward to Milner (CDM), who glanced forward—and paused.
No surge. No counter.
Only control.
Coutinho (LM) pulled inward and received on the half-turn. Norwich backed off.
Liverpool didn't need to threaten anymore.
They only needed to remind.
Gary Neville:
"Look at Azim. He hasn't moved in thirty seconds. But the entire Norwich back four is still fixated on him. After scoring 4, they need to man mark him."
Milner (CDM) angled the ball toward Firmino (CAM), who dropped to receive and shield. Sébastien Bassong (CB) stepped late.
Firmino (CAM) nudged it behind him—Lucas (CDM) met it first-time.
One bounce.
Azim (ST) finally shifted—two steps to the right—his first since the half began.
The pass arrived at his feet. Smooth. Centered. Perfect.
He didn't turn.
Azim (ST) let the ball settle. Bassong (CB) approached from behind, but not close enough. Martin (CB) drifted right.
Azim (ST) stood between them. A statue.
He glanced over his shoulder. Saw nothing he liked.
So he passed it back to Milner (CDM). Calm. Safe.
Applause from the Kop.
Ruddy (GK) bounced on his heels at the far end, shouting at his defenders.
"Push up!"
They didn't.
They couldn't.
The next attack was Firmino's (CAM).
He roamed and danced through a soft challenge from Whittaker (RB), jinked into space just outside the box, and curled a left-footed effort toward the top corner.
Ruddy (GK) leapt and punched it wide.
A sigh, then thunderous clapping from the crowd.
Azim (ST) turned and nodded toward Firmino (LAM), who gave a lazy shrug as if to say, couldn't resist.
No counter came after the corner. No overloads. Just another quiet phase of possession.
As the 50th minute approached, Liverpool weren't looking for more goals.
Norwich tried to pretend they weren't broken.
They pushed forward with the shape of confidence, but not the soul of it. Redmond (LW) clapped once, louder than the pass he'd just received. Dorrans (CDM) sprinted to offer support. Whittaker (RB) overlapped on the right, calling for the ball.
They moved with energy. But not with belief.
Jürgen Klopp stood still near the touchline, arms folded. Watching.
The players didn't need instruction now.
Redmond (LW) clipped a bouncing pass to Whittaker (RB), who tried a first-time ball across to Hoolahan (CAM). Too slow. Too soft. Too hopeful.
Alberto Moreno (LB) intercepted before it could reach the halfway line.
IS Alert:
Right Flank Overload – Norwich Recovery Lag: 3.2s
Liverpool Counter Chain Ready
Coutinho (LM) Run Vector Loading | Azim (ST) Holding Position
Moreno (LB) to Lucas Leiva (CDM). Lucas (CDM) one-touch to Coutinho (LM). He slipped it into the inside-left channel.
Azim (ST) received it in stride.
He didn't sprint. He didn't look flustered.
He just let the moment build.
IS:
Defenders: Bassong (CB) and Martin (CB) tracking left
Blindside Run Detected – Coutinho (LM) threading behind CB gap
Keeper Set Position: Ruddy (GK) Weight Forward 0.46s
Pass Decision: Low cross – 94% conversion rate
Azim (ST) paused—just a breath.
Then dragged his left foot across the grass and threaded a laser along the ground, cutting between defenders like a scalpel.
Coutinho (LM) burst between Martin (CB) and Bassong (CB).
He didn't check over his shoulder.
He didn't even glance at the keeper.
He just tapped the ball with his trailing foot into the net.
The ball rolled in like it belonged there.
The crowd exploded.
Coutinho jogged toward the corner, then just… stopped. Hands down. Grinning.
Stadium Announcer:
"GOAL FOR LIVERPOOL!"
"Scorer — number 10!..... Philippe!" "Coutinho" 3x
"Liverpool 7 — Norwich City 0!"
Back at midfield, Norwich players didn't even speak.
Russell Martin (CB) stood with hands on his hips. Sébastien Bassong (CB) exhaled deeply through his teeth. Ruddy (GK) leaned on the post for a moment longer than he should have.
It wasn't just a goal.
It was a moment of football clarity—too fast to stop, too clean to deny.
---
Liverpool reset.
Azim (ST) walked alone to his post near the center circle.
Anfield had not stopped chanting.
On the pitch, Norwich passed sideways — slowly, reluctantly, like prisoners passing time until release. Sébastien Bassong (CB) rolled the ball to Dorrans (CDM), who shifted left toward Whittaker (RB). The rhythm felt scripted. Defensive. Empty.
Then Whittaker (RB) made a mistake. Not a loud one — a soft, forgettable pass inside to Hoolahan (CAM), played slightly behind him.
Lucas (CDM) didn't even sprint. He just stepped into the lane and stole it clean.
One touch. Then release.
IS: Counter Trigger Active
Turnover Zone: Green – Midfield Gate 3B
Azim (ST) Drop Zone Open
Execution Chain: Single Carry Trigger | Forward Space: +14.1m
Dribble Prediction Line: 5 Opponents in Path – Success Probability: 91%
Lucas (CDM) passed to James Milner (CDM), who took two touches and scanned left.
Azim (ST) had already begun his descent.
He dropped into the channel from the number 9 role, a silent cut from shadow to spotlight. The pass came clean — mid-pace, grounded.
He stopped it dead with his right sole.
Russell Martin (CB) stepped forward. Dorrans (CDM) sprinted back.
Azim (ST) turned.
A full-body pivot with the ball under him — a blade edge movement that pulled Martin (CB) wide and opened his hip angle like a door.
Azim (ST) passed through it.
The first man gone.
Graham Dorrans (CDM) slid across.
Azim (ST) feinted left, then shifted his weight into a half-step fake — an illusion of hesitation.
Dorrans (CDM) bit.
Azim (ST) pulled right with a low sweep and used the outside of his boot to flick the ball behind him — a blind scoop.
Second man gone.
Bassong (CB) and Whittaker (RB) converged.
Anfield's volume rose — no words, just breath.
Azim (ST) didn't look at either of them.
IS:
Bassong (CB) lateral balance – off
Whittaker (RB) turning angle – 0.58s delay
Dribble Lane – 2.6m wide
He slid between them like liquid, bouncing the ball off his left boot and touching it with his right like a violinist guiding a bow.
A half-body drag. A toe flick. A shoulder dip.
Third and fourth — gone.
Only Redmond (LW) remained, chasing back in desperation.
Azim (ST) stopped, waited for Redmond (LW) to commit…
Then chopped across his body with a drag-pull and carried the ball into open space, 23 yards from goal, dead center.
Anfield didn't cheer.
It rose.
Every seat. Every row.
The players had stopped shouting. The coaching staff stood frozen.
Even Klopp had stopped pacing.
Azim (ST) paused at the top of the arc, ball on his right foot, slightly off-center.
Ruddy (GK) stood square, knees bent, arms out.
But he wasn't moving.
IS:
Trivela Execution System: ENGAGED
Keeper Lean: Left Hip Load – 0.46s pre-jump bias
Curl Angle: 28.4°
Elevation Vector: 2.12m
Top Right Bin Target Locked
Execution Window: 0.94s – Optimal Power Curve: 67%
Azim (ST) took one step, turned his hip out, and struck with the outside of his right foot.
No follow-through. No spin.
Just curve.
Immediate. Sharp. Wicked.
The ball lifted slightly, curled hard, and began rising — an arc like a question mark carved into sky.
Ruddy (GK) flinched.
But didn't move.
Not even a dive.
Not even a twitch.
He just watched it.
Everyone did.
The ball soared and bent and dipped, kissing the underside of the crossbar and snapping the net.
GOAL.
Anfield detonated.
Martin Tyler:
"He's bent that with the outside of his boot… into the top bin… from 25 yards!"
Gary Neville:
"Keeper didn't even dive. He just stood and watched. It's impossible to save."
STADIUM ANNOUNCER:
"GOAL FOR LIVERPOOL!"
"Scorer — number 9… ABDUL!" "AZIM!" 3x
"His FIFTH of the match!"
"Liverpool 8 — Norwich City 0!"
Azim (ST) turned to the fans.
No sprint.
He raised his fist. Five times.
Firmino jogged up, grinning like a child. Coutinho was still shaking his head. The players gathered around him and celebrated.
At the sideline, Klopp was grinning happily.
Klopp eventually spoke: "Take him off at 70th minute." he said quietly.
Norwich restarted, broken beyond tactics now.
No shape. No voice. Just routine.
They touched the ball. But it was Liverpool's pitch.
The chants didn't stop.
"Azim! Azim! Azim!"