In the locker room, still carrying the solemnity of the photograph session, Julien folded the white blessing T-shirt.
When he'd finished, he looked up at De Bruyne and Gerrard beside him, his tone carrying genuine respect.
"Schumacher really is a sports legend. Seven-ti Formula One world champion. Seven tis reaching the absolute pinnacle of one of the world's most dangerous sports. That's truly incredible achievent."
He paused, the folded shirt still in his hands, his expression beca more contemplative. "I hope soday we can reach that level too."
De Bruyne nodded imdiately, his eyes were lighting up.
"Absolutely," he said with conviction. "That's the standard we should be asuring ourselves against."
Watching the two younger players mapping out their careers with such ambition, Gerrard shook his head helplessly.
"You two still have ti," he said in his Scouse accent. "Years ahead of you. Entire careers to build. I don't have that luxury anymore—I can't play much longer. Maybe two, three seasons if my body holds up? That's it."
The words hung in the air, carrying more weight than Gerrard had perhaps intended.
This was Liverpool's captain, their beating heart, their connection to glory days that current players had only experienced through video footage and fan stories.
At those words, Julien reached out and patted Gerrard firmly on the shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was absolutely certain. "We have to win it."
Gerrard's eyes t Julien's. He understood exactly what Julien ant.
The Premier League title. Gerrard's white whale. The trophy that had eluded him throughout his entire career.
"Yes," Gerrard said simply, nodding once.
De Bruyne, not quite following the implication of the exchange but catching the intensity of the mont, chid in enthusiastically.
"We have to take the title!" he declared, pumping his fist.
Van Dijk, Piszczek, and several other teammates nearby who'd been half-listening to the conversation repeated the words, their voices were rising in agreent.
"The title!"
"This year's different!"
"We're winning it all!"
anwhile, Liverpool's official post featuring the Schumacher tribute spread across social dia platforms worldwide.
Within minutes, the image had been shared thousands of tis. Within an hour, it had reached hundreds of thousands.
The comnt section on Liverpool's official accounts—Twitter, Facebook, Instagram was instantly flooded with blessing ssages from fans of almost every club. In just a short ti, comnts exceeded ten thousand, then twenty thousand, climbed with no signs of slowing.
"This is what football's all about!" said one highly-liked comnt. "The Reds don't just play well on the pitch—they've got warm hearts off it too."
"Praying with the Reds for Schumi," another fan wrote, their avatar showed Arsenal colors but their ssage had no trace of rivalry. "Legends don't go down easy. Keep fighting, Michael."
"Wishing Schumacher a speedy recovery," ca ssages in English, German, Spanish, Mandarin, Arabic, Japanese—it was a genuinely global outpouring. "Sport unites us all. #PrayForSchumi"
Fans from different countries supporting different teams ca together in this mont, united by a common prayer.
Even rival clubs' official accounts shared Liverpool's post, adding their own ssages of support.
After the post-match interviews concluded—Liverpool's players went onto the team bus that would transport them back to the lwood training complex.
The atmosphere aboard was relaxed, satisfied with players scattered across seats in their usual groupings. So scrolled through phones checking social dia. Others dozed, exhausted despite the match's relative ease. A few animated bubbled up here and there, replaying particular monts or debating whose performance had been most impressive.
Klopp moved through the bus, sharing brief words with different players.
When he reached Julien, seated toward the middle of the bus beside the window, he dropped into the empty seat across the aisle and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so the conversation remained private.
"For the next match against Sunderland," Klopp began, his tone was thoughtful, "I'm planning to experint with the midfield combination again. Just giving you advance notice so you're ntally prepared for potential positional changes."
Since the final whistle had blown at Anfield, Klopp had been ntally working through tactical variations, running scenarios in his head. With De Bruyne's arrival and Julien's versatility as a forward player who could drop deep or drift wide, many established tactical patterns needed reconsideration and adjustnt.
The squad had changed. The possibilities had expanded. So, the system also needed evolution to maximize these new weapons.
Julien nodded imdiately, showing no sign of concern or resistance. "Understood, boss. Whatever you need."
He trusted Klopp's judgnt completely. Since arriving at Liverpool, he had been in his office until midnight most nights, studying tactics and analyzing opponents. He was truly a dedicated manager.
"I'll familiarize myself with possible positioning adjustnts ahead of ti," Julien added practically. "Make sure I understand the tactical requirents before we implent them in training. That way I can coordinate smoothly with the team's tactical evolution without creating friction or confusion."
Klopp patted his shoulder firmly, approval was evident in his eyes and body language. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
He leaned in slightly closer. "With Kevin here now, you'll have more freedom in the forward areas. He can handle the deeper playmaking responsibilities. That frees you to focus on what you do best. We need to find the attacking rhythm that best fits our current lineup's strengths."
Julien's eyes lit up slightly at the tactical possibilities Klopp was outlining.
After a brief exchange covering a few more tactical details, Klopp stood and continued his rounds, greeting other players.
Soon all the players departed from lwood—so heading ho to families, others to the apartnts and houses they had around Liverpool, even those too lazy or tired to make the journey went to the training base's dormitories that existed for this purpose.
But Klopp didn't leave. Instead, he headed directly for the coaching office, a space that had essentially beco his second ho since taking the Liverpool job.
The room was practical rather than comfortable with a large desk taking most of the space, tactical boards filled the walls, cabinets held years of scouting reports and match analysis.
He needed to conduct a thorough post-match review of the ga against Oldham Athletic. Yes, they'd won comfortably. Yes, it had been "only" a League One side. But Klopp's philosophy rejected the notion that any match was too small or insignificant to analyze properly.
Every ga produced data. Every player's performance revealed sothing about their current form, their understanding of the system, their readiness for increased responsibility.
The tactical board from before the match still occupied space on his desk, covered with dense notations—running routes mapped in different colors, passing nodes marked with symbols, defensive responsibilities outlined with arrows. It looked like a mad scientist's diagram, clear only to those fluent in tactical languages.
After settling into his chair with a satisfied sigh—it was the first mont he'd truly relaxed since arriving at the stadium hours earlier—he opened his laptop and pulled up the complete match footage.
The club's analysis departnt had already processed it, providing multiple cara angles and tactical overlays.
He began reviewing players' positioning and coordination fra by fra, occasionally pausing to zoom in on particular movents or rewind sequences to watch them multiple tis.
His hand moved constantly, jotting notes in the margins of printed tactical sheets—observations about spacing, thoughts about timing, questions to explore in upcoming training sessions.
Just as he was deeply focused on analyzing midfield passing networks and circulation patterns, the phone on his desk suddenly rang with a sharp electronic trill that shattered his concentration.
He glanced at the caller ID: David Dein.
With so confusion and concern—calls this late rarely brought good news, Klopp answered. "David, calling at this hour? Is sothing urgent?"
Dein's tone on the other end was grave, carrying somberness that imdiately put Klopp on alert. "Jürgen, it's about recruitnt. That Luke Shaw we've been targeting—there's been a significant complication. Manchester City are after him too, and they've already made substantial moves. Aggressive moves."
Klopp's hand holding his pen paused mid-note, his brow was furrowing with concern and frustration. This was problematic, very problematic.
After Julien had suggested Luke Shaw's na, Klopp had specifically requested scouting footage. He'd watched hours of the teenager's matches, studying his positioning, his decision-making, his technical quality. And he'd co away genuinely impressed.
This was a player who could anchor Liverpool's left flank for a decade. A generational English talent, even regarded throughout so circles as the successor to Ashley Cole for the England national team's starting left-back position.
With the Felipe Luís deal stalled, Luke Shaw had beco Liverpool's core target for addressing their most obvious weakness.
Dein continued with the urgency. "As you know, Pellegrini kept publicly stating that City weren't rushing to sign anyone in the winter window. But according to intelligence I just received from Southampton sources, City hasn't been idle at all—they've been working behind the scenes."
He paused for breath before delivering the hamr blow.
"They're planning to offer thirty million pounds straight up for Luke Shaw. Thirty million. They've already laid their cards on the table with Southampton chairman Nicola Cortese—if the Saints agree to let him go imdiately, City will pay the entire transfer fee upfront. No installnts, no performance bonuses, no complicated structure. Just thirty million pounds deposited directly into Southampton's account."
The figure genuinely surprised Klopp, and he was soone who thought he'd beco accustod to modern football's inflated transfer market. After all, the current world record fee for a defender remained the £29.5 million Barcelona had paid Santos for Dani Alves back in 2008.
If this Luke Shaw transfer went through at £30 million, the 18-year-old would instantly shatter that record and beco the most expensive defender in football history. Not just the most expensive English defender, or the most expensive teenage defender, the most expensive defender, period.
Liverpool had just bought Virgil van Dijk on January 1st for only £25 million—a fully developed 22-year-old Dutch international with years of professional experience. City were preparing to pay £5 million more for a teenager with one good season of senior football.
"Weren't Manchester United and Chelsea watching him too?" Klopp asked. "Shaw's been heavily scouted all season. Is City trying to snatch him with a financial blitz before others can organize proper bids?"
"Exactly," Dein replied. "City doesn't want to get dragged into a protracted bidding war with multiple clubs where the fee spirals even higher. They want to make an offer so large that Southampton accepts imdiately, before United or Chelsea or Liverpool can even prepare competing bids."
He paused, then continued with additional context.
"Plus there's regulatory pressure driving this. You might not be fully aware, but Premier League rules require each team to maintain at least eight hogrown players in their squad—players who spent at least three years at an English club before age twenty-one.
City currently has exactly eight eting that criteria: Joe Hart, Micah Richards, Joleon Lescott, Jas Milner, Jack Rodwell, third-choice keeper Richard Wright, plus Gareth Barry and Scott Sinclair who are currently out on loan."
Klopp nodded slowly, beginning to see the complete picture.
"But Barry's already confird he's leaving when his contract expires at season's end," Dein continued. "Which ans City absolutely has to fill that hogrown quota through transfers, or they risk sanctions. Luke Shaw naturally beca their pri target—young enough to develop into a world-class player, already English so he definitely counts toward the quota, and playing for a club that might be convinced to sell with sufficient financial incentive."
Dein's tone was full of frustration and helplessness. "We'd been slowly building contact with Southampton over the past few weeks. The relationship was developing well. We understood that Luke Shaw and the club had an informal understanding he'd stay at least until season's end, finish the campaign with Saints, then consider moves in the sumr when they'd have ti to find a proper replacent."
He sighed audibly. "I was confident we could get him in the sumr transfer window without excessive difficulty. Build the relationship, make a fair offer, complete the deal professionally. But now City's co in with thirty million pounds right off the bat, no warning. For a mid-table club like Southampton, that kind of money is an enormous temptation. Whether they can resist City's offensive is genuinely anyone's guess."
Dein continued: "We're interested in Luke Shaw too, obviously. But with City stirring things up like this, the recruitnt difficulty just skyrocketed. We might have to raise our offer significantly as well."
Klopp fell silent for a mont, processing the information and its consequences.
Finally, he took a deep breath, forcing his tone to beco steady. "I understand the situation, David. It's problematic, no question. But let's see Southampton's response first before we panic or make reactive decisions. We can't lose our composure just because City raised their bid intensely."
His voice gained conviction as he spoke. "The priority right now is playing well in the next match against Sunderland. That's what I can actually control. As for squad adjustnts and transfer decisions, we'll proceed according to the original plan and adapt if circumstances change."
After hanging up, Klopp closed the match footage on his laptop, his focus was completely broken. His fingers drumd lightly on the desk.
City's involvent was genuinely bad news for Liverpool. Their financial resources were unlimited thanks to Abu Dhabi ownership. If they wanted Luke Shaw badly enough, they could simply keep raising their offer until Southampton couldn't possibly refuse.
If they really couldn't sign Luke Shaw, should they turn to the backup option?
Andrew Robertson at Dundee United. A Scottish left-back, currently playing in the Scottish Premiership, younger and less proven than Shaw but reportedly possessing similar athletic qualities and tactical intelligence. And crucially, available for a fraction of Shaw's price.
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