The Crazy Yang Yang

As Yang Yang sprinted off the field to celebrate amid the roaring crowd, Chelsea's players rushed toward the referee, Cantalejo. They were mainly protesting that Liverpool had committed fouls during the free-kick attack.

"Kuyt blocked me with his elbow! That was a foul!" Carvalho complained.

"Gerrard fouled me! He grabbed my arm and wouldn't let me move!" Ivanovic shouted.

"And Skrtel too! That big guy was pulling my jersey from behind. You should have seen it!" Ballack kept tugging at his shirt, as if trying to show the referee the handprint Skrtel had left on it.

The Spanish referee, Cantalejo, had clearly been prepared for a situation like this.

As an experienced referee, he knew perfectly well how devastating that goal had been for Chelsea. The aggregate score was now level, and, in theory, Liverpool only needed one more goal to overturn the scoreline and produce a miracle.

More importantly, this miracle would be even harder to achieve than the one in Istanbul.

That had been the Champions League Final, but it had taken place at a neutral venue. This time, Liverpool were away from home, challenging a Chelsea side with an exceptionally strong defense.

So, under these circumstances, it was understandable that Chelsea's players had rushed over to complain the moment the goal went in, before he had even blown his whistle. But he had no intention of overturning the goal, and simply kept waving his hands and shaking his head.

"I saw everything very clearly, gentlemen." Cantalejo gestured for Chelsea's players to keep their distance.

"Before Kuyt blocked you with his elbow, you shoved him down hard. If you want to pursue this, it should be a penalty."

"And you—you wrapped both arms around Gerrard and nearly brought him down."

Finally, Cantalejo looked at Ballack. After thinking for