So, who was happy at the end? Florian Wirtz didn't seem to be. His torturous wait for a decisive moment had ended but he looked like he'd lost a pound and found a penny as he trouped off, politely clapping the Main Stand but giving no real enthusiasm.
Mohamed Salah definitely wasn't. He'd spent 45 minutes with teeth chattering and his blood boiling, grappling with the fact for the first time in his Liverpool career he hadn't started back-to-back games. We will address this in due course but, incredibly, he - against the odds - isn't the main narrative.
Dominik Szoboszlai and Hugo Ekitike were as far from happy as you could imagine; they gesticulated and scowled, replaying a moment from the frantic finale in their minds and bemoaning that it had been squandered: clearly someone, somewhere would have had burning ears.
Then there was Regis Le Bris and several of his players. Of course the thunderous ovation they were being afforded by the visiting section, which included Sunderland legend Kevin Phillips in its number, was nice but this really could - and should - have been so much more. They all knew it.
Sunderland, not for the first time in this terrific campaign, were fantastic. The vast majority would have expected them to be almost adrift at the beginning of December, like so many who had come up via the play-offs before, but this bunch can stand toe-to-toe and trade punches easily.
They were a whisker away from delivering a haymaker here and had they sent Liverpool sprawling nobody could have complained. In the same way they had Arsenal breathing heavily last month, they induced panic on Liverpool, the kind that possession statistic could not mask.
Quite how Arne Slot will feel today, as he digests it all, can only be speculated but he will not need any reminding that only a swish of Wirtz's left leg plugged a likely volcanic eruption from a crowd that is somewhere between flabbergast and fury over the way Liverpool's season has unfolded.
Who would have though they didn't go home talking about Salah? This was the 318th Premier League game Liverpool have played since Salah made his debut at Vicarage Road on August 12, 2017 - only 17 of those took place without his involvement. His durability, simply, has been freakish.
But here we are in new territory. He sidled out of the tunnel before kick-off with a forced, faint smile, grappling with the fact for the first time in his Liverpool career he had not been selected for two consecutive matches despite being fit and available.
Call it ego if you want but this was the realisation that his days as a guaranteed started are over. You would be foolish to describe this as the beginning of the end, as he has too much quality and too much desire, but the sands have evidently started to shift.
Would Liverpool be better for it? We were about to find out. It was all very well them dispatching an anaemic and petulant West Ham team, in an understandably solemn arena given Billy Bonds' passing, but playing well at Anfield when the pressure is on is a different challenge completely.
Adding another layer to the plot was the fact Sunderland arrived without inhibition. You can debate as much as you want whether you think they will stay the distance but, here and now, there is no question that Regis Le Bris has sculpted a team of which their followers can be proud.
Sunderland hadn't won at Anfield in the Premier League era, their last win in this district was in October 1983, but they started with confidence and were typically well-organised, with Granit Xhaka and Noah Sadiki the relentless runners and cajolers in the middle.
Liverpool, true, had the first big opportunity in the 23rd minute. It all came from Robin Roefs skewing his clearance straight to Ryan Gravenberch, him giving the ball to Wirtz and the German exchanging passes with Dominik Szoboszlai before shooting into the Sunderland keeper's legs.
The desperation for Wirtz to become a success is such that there was a huge roar on one side of the stadium, as it looked like the ricochet had gone into the net: it's debatable at the moment who needs a goal from Wirtz most - those who want to idolise him or the man himself.
Unperturbed, Sunderland kept their cool. One of the characteristics of this squad is the fact they remain true to their values, nothing disrupts their momentum or idea. It's why they have chiselled out such a terrific points haul already and why they will continue to pose a danger to all.
They kept chipping away, looking to land a jab through the guard, but just couldn't make the required contact, for all that Brian Brobbey was a nuisance to Virgil van Dijk and Enzo Le Fee fluttered around in the pockets where mischief could be made.
How Anfield would have reacted had Sunderland scored would have been fascinating because Liverpool are doing a passable impersonation of the boxer with the glass chin, the kind that crumples quicker than Christmas wrapping paper.
Salah would be introduce at half-time and in his first three minutes, he was shoved off the ball by Chemsdine Talbi, took a kick on the shin from Reinildo Mandava and failed with an ambitious cross field switch of play to find Wirtz.
Each action that failed to go his way was received like a personal affront but nothing hurt more than when Talbi, with the help of a deflection, swept a drive past Alisson. Much to Slot's gratitude, for so many reasons, Wirtz came to the rescue.
Yet there was still time for more drama. In injury time, Wilson Isidor surged through alone, went around Alisson but his shot was cleared off the line by Federico Chiesea. The Italian celebrated as much as he would have done had he scored. He, rightly, was happy. He was in the minority.
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