I confess that having seen Lucas’s performance in less than ideal conditions at Portsmouth, and his emergence into this wintry arena wearing gloves, I was not expecting great things of the Brazilian. Credit where it’s due, however grudging.

Richard Dunne’s clumsy challenge on Kuyt looked a clear penalty from 150 yards away peering through the snow, but somehow the referee and his assistant missed it from 140 yards nearer.

But quietly impressive though we were, we still needed an outstanding save from Reina to keep us level, his instinctive save from Downing’s forceful volley underlining his value to the team. But for him, eighth position would be aspirational by now.

The second half was more even, and it was becoming clear that only a Villa dead ball play, a mistake or an unlikely piece of brilliance would swing the game either way.

Insua just about got away with a head/arm combo that might on another occasion have seen a referee point to the spot, and Reina again distinguished himself after Agbonlahor had outpaced Carragher.

And then came Torres, pouncing on a fortunate ricochet to calmly steer the ball across Friedel and just inside the far post in injury time – about time we scored rather than conceded one of these.

What more can be said about this striker supreme? His achievement in chalking up 50 goals in 72 games is just awesome, and he remains a potent threat though clearly struggling for fitness.

Twenty years ago we used to console ourselves during poor performances with the words “don’t worry – Rushie hasn’t scored yet.” I can think of no finer tribute than recording that this phrase is firmly back in our lexicon, this time with a Spaniard replacing a Welshman as its totemic subject.