NOVPUBAs more players arrived, the dressing room filled with the usual pre-training energy—chatter, laughter, and the occasional burst of music from someone's speaker.
By the time the clock hit 9:30 AM, every Liverpool player was present, ready for the first training session of the new year. On cue, Jürgen Klopp strode into the room, clapping his hands together with that familiar enthusiasm that instantly commanded attention.
"Guten Morgen, boys!" he greeted with a wide grin. "Happy New Year! Everyone enjoyed themselves, yeah?"
A few players murmured their responses, while others chuckled. Klopp's eyes immediately found Andy Robertson, who was still lacing up his boots.
"Robbo, don't tell me you spent the whole night on Twitter roasting rival fans?" Klopp teased.
The room burst into laughter as Robertson grinned. "Nah, boss, just a little bit. Had to remind some folks where we are in the league."
Klopp smirked before his gaze shifted to Firmino. "Bobby, please tell me you didn't wake up with another new haircut today."
Firmino laughed, running a hand through his already perfectly styled hair. "Not yet, boss. Maybe, if I score tomorrow."
Klopp shook his head, amused, before his expression shifted to something more serious. He clapped his hands twice, signaling it was time to get down to business. The room quieted instantly.
"Alright, listen up. Tomorrow is City." His voice carried a weight that everyone in the room understood. "You all know what that means. Manchester City is always a challenge, no matter where they are in the table. They're a team that plays fast, aggressive football. They press hard, they pass well, and they punish mistakes. And Pep will have them fired up, no doubt about that."
Klopp took a few measured steps forward, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
"But let me tell you something—we are Liverpool. We don't back down. We don't get intimidated. We don't drop our level just because we're ahead in the league. A football season is not a sprint—it's a marathon. And you don't win a marathon by stopping to admire how far ahead you are. You dig in, you keep running, and you keep your eyes on the finish line."
His voice rose slightly, his passion bleeding into every word.
"This team—we're fighters. We've won every single league match so far, but that means nothing if we stop now. City will come at us like wolves, but we'll be ready. We've worked too hard, played too well, to let up now. Tomorrow, we go there to prove exactly why we are top of the league. So, let's train hard today and be ready to fight tomorrow."
A chorus of determined nods followed. The fire was lit.
With Klopp's message delivered, the players filed out of the dressing room and headed toward the training ground, the cold morning air biting at their faces. Along the way, small conversations picked up again.
"So, Mo," one of the players called out, nudging Mohamed Salah, "did you post a Christmas photo with your family this time?"
Salah chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I did."
A few players immediately whistled, exchanging knowing glances.
"Ah, then we've got to work harder, boys," Robertson joked. "Every time Salah posts a Christmas family picture, things get tough for us."
More laughter rippled through the squad as they arrived at the training ground. The rest of the morning was spent sharpening their tactics, rehearsing pressing triggers, and ensuring every movement was second nature ahead of the game.
The next day, on January 3rd, 2019, the team had a final light training session in the morning before gathering for the pre-match tactical meeting. Inside the conference room at Melwood, Klopp stood in front of the players, a tactics board behind him.
"Alright, here's the team." His tone was sharp, direct. "Ali in goal. Trent, Virgil, Lovren, Robbo at the back. Fabinho, Hendo, and Zach in midfield. Mo, Sadio, and Bobby up top."
No surprises—Liverpool's strongest lineup. The players nodded, absorbing their instructions. Klopp continued outlining key tactical details, highlighting pressing patterns, defensive structures, and transition strategies. When the meeting ended, the squad had a few hours to rest and mentally prepare.
Zachary, always meticulous in his preparations, took the time to meditate in his room at Melwood. Eyes closed, he focused on deep, steady breaths, clearing his mind of everything except the game ahead. He visualized the passes, the movements, the goals. Every little detail mattered. He followed it up with a nutritious meal, making sure he was well-fueled and hydrated for the battle ahead.
Time passed quickly, and soon, 5:00 PM arrived. The players, now fully prepared and having had a light meal, boarded the team bus. The engine rumbled softly as they set off from Melwood, the mood inside calm yet focused.
As they neared Manchester, the atmosphere changed. From the bus windows, Zachary spotted pockets of Liverpool fans who had traveled to support them, waving scarves and chanting songs. Their presence, even in enemy territory, was a reminder of the club's incredible support.
But, as expected, rival fans also lined the streets. Some City supporters booed, holding up banners, while others merely watched in silence, their faces betraying a grudging respect for the dominant Liverpool side.
The bus continued through the city, heading straight for the Etihad Stadium, where thousands of fans had already gathered. The floodlights illuminated the night sky, creating a glowing fortress of blue. The tension was thick, the anticipation electric.
The bus eventually came to a halt just outside the stadium's players' entrance. The moment the doors opened, cameras flashed and voices erupted from all directions. Liverpool's players began disembarking one by one, each met with a mix of cheers and jeers.
Zachary, walking behind Mané and Van Dijk, immediately drew attention. Liverpool fans roared his name, chanting and waving banners celebrating their Ballon d'Or winner. On the other hand, some City fans booed loudly, though a few watched him with quiet respect, acknowledging his brilliance even as an opponent.
Zachary, used to such atmospheres, remained unfazed. He gave a small wave to the Liverpool fans before following his teammates inside.
The team moved swiftly through the corridors, heading toward the away dressing room. Inside, they began donning their warm-up gear, the atmosphere calm but charged with anticipation. Once ready, they exited to the pitch, where the pre-match dynamic warm-up awaited them. The moment they stepped onto the Etihad's pristine turf, the noise from the crowd hit them in full force.
Jogging through their drills, Zachary took in the surroundings, his mind sharpening. This was what he lived for. The big games, the high-pressure moments, the chance to prove himself on the grandest stage.
After completing the warm-up, the team returned to the dressing room, where Klopp stood waiting for them.
With everyone seated, the manager took one final look at his players, his eyes burning with intensity. Then, with a confident smirk, he began his pre-game pep talk.
