The press conference wasn't quite finished. Journalists still had ammunition.
One tried a different angle: transfers which were always reliable for generating headlines even when there was no actual news to report.
"Jürgen, regarding the winter window—several newspapers have reported that Chelsea's Kevin De Bruyne is transferring to Liverpool. Can you comment on—"
Klopp raised a hand, cutting him off mid-question: "We'll wait and see. Next question."
His tone carried conclusiveness.
The journalist tried to follow up but Klopp's expression made clear the topic was closed.
In reality, several major newspapers had already 'leaked' De Bruyne's impending move—English media were being what they were, somehow obtaining information before official announcements despite both clubs maintaining radio silence.
After all, De Bruyne's comments in a recent interview had essentially shown his hand—he could no longer stay at Chelsea.
Following that interview, Mourinho had not once sought out De Bruyne. Nor had he given De Bruyne a single minute of playing time.
But Klopp understood this wasn't the moment for transfer discussions. Not when any comment—even "no comment"—would generate three days of speculation.
So: "We'll wait and see."
However, journalists obviously wouldn't let him escape that easily. They never did.
A Spanish reporter with thick accent, notebook full of prepared questions stood and delivered what might be the most absurd query of Klopp's managerial career:
"Jürgen, Lionel Messi's contract renewal negotiations with Barcelona have reportedly hit an impasse. According to multiple media sources, two Premier League giants have extended offers to Messi—specifically Manchester City and Liverpool. Do you believe Messi will join the Premier League? And if Liverpool were in contention for his signature, would—"
Klopp's face went through several expressions in rapid succession: confusion, disbelief, irritation, then finally something approaching bemused resignation.
He was genuinely speechless.
At least in Germany—in the Bundesliga press conferences he'd conducted for years at Dortmund—media wouldn't ask such wildly speculative, click-bait nonsense.
But in England? In England, apparently, you could ask literally anything and it was considered legitimate journalism.
He shook his head slowly, almost laughing at the absurdity: "Messi? You're asking me about Messi?"
He paused for a moment.
"No. I don't care whether Messi renews his Barcelona contract or not. It's completely irrelevant to Liverpool Football Club and our planning.
We already have Julien De Rocca. And in my professional opinion—my considered, expert judgment as someone who's coached elite football for two decades—Julien is doing brilliantly. Spectacularly. He's exactly what we need.
Messi is certainly a top player—I believe he's won three Ballon d'Ors? Or is it four now? I lose count. Extraordinary talent, obviously. But in my mind, for this team, for this system, for what Liverpool needs right now and in the future: Julien is the one perfectly suited to us.
This question ends here. We're done with this topic."
His tone left zero room for follow-up.
The Spanish journalist looked disappointed—hadn't extracted the explosive quote he'd hoped for, something like "Yes, we'd love Messi!" that would generate a week of back-page headlines.
But he had extracted something.
And within minutes of the press conference ending, that something would be condensed, edited, recontextualized:
"Messi? We already have Julien" —Klopp
Perfect tabloid alchemy.
In fairness, this wasn't purely English invention. The Messi renewal situation had become genuinely explosive across European football.
In Spain, Messi's contract standoff with Barcelona dominated sports coverage. The player and vice-president Faus were engaged in increasingly public, increasingly bitter mutual criticism.
Messi calling Faus "ignorant about football." Faus questioning whether Messi's injury problems justified his salary demands. Back and forth, it was escalating and becoming poisonous.
Which created opportunity or at least perception of opportunity—for clubs with unlimited resources.
Manchester City and their oil-rich owners looked at Barcelona's turmoil and saw an opening. The Daily Mail had already "reported" (based on "sources close to the situation") that City would offer Messi a staggering £420,000 weekly wage after the World Cup to bring him to the Etihad.
City players had been asked about it in interviews and unlike Liverpool's professional silence—they actually engaged with the speculation.
Yaya Touré, who'd played three years at Barcelona, spoke freely: "If Messi leaves Barcelona? Of course I'd want him at City! Look, at Barcelona there can only be one superstar—one king. Not two simultaneously. Messi and Neymar in the same team, both wanting to be the man? That creates problems and conflict.
Plus, Messi's injury issues recently, the off-field tension with management, Neymar's rising status taking attention—Messi's situation has definitely become complicated. If he decides he wants a fresh start, City would be perfect."
Sergio Agüero—Messi's Argentina strike partner, genuine friend was even more direct: "Yes, he should come to City! We'd definitely click on the pitch—we already do for Argentina! City absolutely should buy him if there's any chance!"
But then Messi's father issued a statement attempting to quash the speculation:
"Barcelona is where Leo grew up, where he became who he is. He loves the club deeply. He has no problems with management—these are normal contract negotiations being blown out of proportion by media.
President Rosell has stated full support for Leo. We're grateful for Barcelona's commitment. Right now we need support from fans and media, not destructive speculation. Barcelona has shown determination to keep Leo. Our goals are completely aligned: win as many trophies as possible."
Meanwhile, Messi himself remained at Argentina's training facility, recovering from injury, saying nothing publicly but apparently according to teammate Zabaleta—asking lots of questions about Manchester.
"He's asked me greatly about City," Zabaleta revealed to reporters. "The club, the city, the league, the lifestyle. It's a topic we discuss frequently during national team camps."
Sky Sports added fuel by reporting Liverpool executives, including Staveley, had also explored Messi's availability, potentially offering over £500,000 weekly.
But unlike City—where players spoke openly, where the club seemed happy letting speculation build, Liverpool maintained absolute silence.
No player comments. No executive briefings.
When journalists asked, responses were consistently: "Don't know. Not my business. Ask someone else."
The final question came from a local journalist, shifting to tomorrow's actual opponent:
"Your thoughts on Cardiff City's owner Vincent Tan and the changes he's implemented?"
Klopp's expression looked like he'd been hoping to avoid.
"Look, he's apparently very successful in business. Very wealthy. Good for him. But regarding football—and I say this with no personal animosity—he understands absolutely nothing.
Since taking over Cardiff, this businessman has modified the club crest, changed the team's shirt colors from their traditional blue to red because of some superstition or marketing theory. These actions are deeply offensive to football culture, especially in England where club identity means everything to fans.
Even in Germany—where we're perhaps slightly less traditional than England, fans would revolt against such disrespect. Club colors aren't just marketing. They're identity. History. Belonging.
I don't want him treating Cardiff City this way. It's wrong. But—" He spread his hands "—it's not my club. Not my decision. I can only comment as an outside observer who respects football culture."
That was as tactful as Klopp was going to get.
Cardiff City, sixteen rounds in, sat on four wins, five draws, seven defeats—three points above the relegation zone, firmly in a survival fight.
And yet Tan was still making chaotic decisions. Changing the crest and kit color was already controversial enough.
More bizarrely, the Kazakhstani figure, Tan had controversially appointed to handle Cardiff's transfer business—Abuzarov—had already left the club due to visa issues. In other words, he wasn't even at the club. Cardiff's winter window planning was in complete disarray. He couldn't return until the transfer window opened at the earliest.
Previously, Cardiff's transfer matters had been handled by Moody. The change itself was already eyebrow-raising—but what made it truly incredible was that the newly appointed Abuzarov had no football experience whatsoever.
He was a painter by trade. For a club already fighting relegation, entrusting transfers to someone with zero football knowledge was nothing short of reckless.
But criticizing another club's internal dysfunction too harshly would be classless. He'd already made his point.
Later that afternoon, back at Melwood after the press conference circus, the training ground felt almost therapeutic in its normalcy.
Final pre-match session: light, technical, nothing strenuous. Keep legs fresh. Maintain sharpness. Conserve energy for tomorrow.
Players were scattered across the rest area afterward, some guzzling sports drinks, others stretching, everyone was in that pleasant post-workout zone.
Gerrard had just finished a brief exchange with the fitness coach. He walked over to Suárez, towel in hand, pressing it against his forehead. He clapped a hand on Suárez's shoulder, his tone carrying a note of approval: "Heard you sorted your contract extension?"
Suárez had been looking down, unlacing his boots, but glanced up at Gerrard's words. His face broke into a calm, satisfied smile and nodded.
"Yeah. Signed yesterday. Long contract through 2018."
He paused, his gaze drifting briefly toward Julien not far away, and when he spoke again there was conviction in his voice. "I want to stay. Fight for something with everyone here."
In this Liverpool side, riding such a powerful wave of momentum, those words—"I want to stay"—were enough to lift the spirits of everyone around him.
Because everyone knew the summer saga. Everyone remembered Suárez pushing for the Barcelona move, the public tension, the uncertainty about whether he'd even be here in September.
Gerrard grinned and slapped him on the back. "That's the right call. With you in the attack, we're that much more dangerous."
Sturridge, eavesdropping shamelessly from a few meters away, immediately inserted himself into the conversation.
"It's great you're staying! At the start of the season, I genuinely thought you had your mind completely made up about going to Barça—the papers were full of it every day, you pushing for a transfer, I was lying awake wondering how we'd play up front without you."
He dropped his voice, though everyone within ten meters could still hear: "Besides, Barcelona's a mess right now, isn't it? Messi arguing with management, Neymar creating political complications, Faus and Rosell at each other's throats. Who needs that drama? Here at Liverpool? We just focus forward, score goals, win matches."
The comment drew knowing laughs from nearby players.
Daniel Agger, lounging on a treatment bench, added his perspective in that dry Danish way: "Who'd want to leave now anyway? I certainly don't. We're winning every week, the attacking football is just too good—you couldn't pay me enough to go."
Sturridge snapped his fingers as if something had just come back to him. "Oh! Yesterday some journalist literally cornered me outside the training ground—wouldn't let me leave—asking if I'd heard anything about Liverpool targeting Messi. Wanted me to confirm or deny various rumors."
He adopted an exaggerated serious expression, mimicking the journalist's stern tone, "I was absolutely baffled! What could I possibly know? I'm a striker, not a transfer negotiator! I told him: 'Mate, you're asking the wrong person. Maybe ask Julien whether he fancies having Messi as a teammate."
He turned toward Julien with pure mischief in his eyes: "Though honestly—why would we even want Messi? We already have Julien! Who's he inferior to? I reckon if Messi actually arrived, he'd end up providing assists to Julien rather than the other way round!"
Julien, hearing his name invoked for teasing purposes, looked up from his stretching with an expression mixing amusement and exasperation.
He waved dismissively at Sturridge. "Why am I always getting dragged into this?"
Which only encouraged more laughter from everyone.
Sturridge still wasn't done. He looked back at Julien and pressed on. "I'm not joking though—it's completely serious! You're legitimately that good! Actually, heard Tottenham just appointed a new manager? Tim Sherwood, I think? I genuinely reckon you personally got Villas-Boas sacked!"
He was enjoying himself now. "That match at White Hart Lane—you absolutely shredded their backline. Made them look Sunday League quality. Levy probably watched from his executive box, looked at his phone, and texted: 'You're fired' before full time! Haha!"
________________________________________________________
Check out my patreon where you can read more chapters:
patreon.com/LorianFiction
Thanks for your support!