Emperor of Football: Julien De Rocca

Chapter 631 - 631: Chapter-630 The Plans

On the tunnel leading from Melwood's training pitch to the dressing rooms, De Bruyne's voice echoed off the walls, carrying a note of envy that he didn't bother hiding. "That's you all over, isn't it? Another city conquered, another group of supporters eating out of your hand like you've been their hero for years."Julien's laughed. "You could do exactly the same, you know. Nothing stopping you."

De Bruyne nodded slowly, his expression turned contemplative, "I hope so,"

He meant it with every fiber of his being.

The desire to prove himself burned constantly inside him like a low flame that never quite extinguished. His journey from Belgium to England had been bruising in ways that statistics and transfer fees could never capture. There had been long stretches at Chelsea where he'd genuinely questioned whether he belonged at this level, whether Mourinho saw something lacking that De Bruyne himself couldn't identify.

Bastia had rebuilt him piece by piece. The club had helped him rediscover the player he'd always believed he could be. But Mourinho hadn't seen it. Or perhaps, he'd seen it clearly and simply hadn't cared. Perhaps in the Portuguese manager's tactical universe, De Bruyne's particular gifts simply didn't fit the required mold.

Well, then. He'd prove it again. This time alongside Julien, in front of crowds that actually wanted to watch him play. Not to show Chelsea what they'd lost. But to demonstrate to himself and the football world that he genuinely belonged among the elite players at the sport's highest level.

De Bruyne glanced sideways at Julien, and despite the complexity of his emotions—he found himself smiling.

He'd never forgotten what Julien had told him.

"I, Julien De Rocca, am a gentleman. Once I give my word, nothing can keep it back."

"What's that supposed to mean?" De Bruyne had asked, confused by the phrasing.

"A gentleman is basically someone who keeps their promises, like a knight in the old stories. When they make a vow, they honor it no matter the cost."

"Right then." De Bruyne had extended his hand, meeting Julien's eyes. "I'm a gentleman too. If it really doesn't work out at Chelsea and I can't get games, I'll come find you wherever you are. We'll play together again."

"Deal."

And now here they were. Against all odds, against the chaotic unpredictability of football careers where teammates scattered across continents and promises dissolved into fond memories—here they actually were. Playing together again. At Liverpool. In the middle of a genuine title challenge.

Time, as it always does regardless of human wishes or plans, moved forward.

The second half of the season had barely begun, yet already the fixture congestion was mounting on the horizon like storm clouds. What had been the luxury of single-competition focus vanished the moment the FA Cup's third round arrived. Add the League Cup commitments still to come, and suddenly Liverpool faced the reality of fighting on multiple fronts simultaneously.

This was English football's default state, the grueling war of attrition that separated squads with genuine depth from pretenders who relied on a strong first eleven but wilted when rotation became necessary. The sheer density of fixtures created physical and tactical pressures that no other league in world football could match.

Unless the big clubs deliberately sacrificed the domestic cups—fielding weakened teams, basically forfeiting their chances to concentrate resources on the league and European competitions, the schedule would grind everyone down.

January 4th arrived wrapped in typical Liverpool weather—gray skies that threatened rain without ever quite delivering it.

That afternoon, Klopp faced the media ahead of Liverpool's FA Cup match against Oldham Athletic. Despite their opponents being a third-tier League One side, his expression remained serious, carrying none of the relaxed confidence that others might have displayed.

"I need to make something clear from the start," Klopp began, leaning forward slightly in his chair, his intensity filled the room.

"Oldham Athletic are a side that deserve our complete respect and maximum effort. This isn't false modesty or media-friendly clichés. Lower-league teams often bring something to these cup ties that can genuinely trouble any opponent, regardless of the league table disparity."

He paused, letting that sink in, his eyes scanned the gathered journalists.

"They're hungry. They're fearless. They play without the weight of expectation pressing down on their shoulders—if they lose, everyone expected it; if they compete well, they're heroes. Their approach might be more direct than what we face in the Premier League, more physical, less concerned with possession statistics and tactical sophistication.

And precisely because of that, precisely because they'll throw everything into challenges and set pieces and long balls, these matches are never easy. Cup upsets happen every season, and they happen because someone assumed victory was guaranteed. We won't allow ourselves even a moment of complacency just because the opponent plays in a lower division. Every official match deserves to be taken seriously—it's respect for the opposition and respect for football itself"

A journalist near the front raised his hand. "Will you rotate the squad significantly?"

Klopp nodded without hesitation. "Of course we'll make changes. Everyone can see the fixture list. Starting now, we need to manage our players' energy intelligently and prepare properly for competing across multiple competitions simultaneously. This match represents not just our FA Cup beginning, but an opportunity for squad players and new signings to find their rhythm and build understanding with their teammates."

His tone softened slightly, becoming more explanatory.

"I know fans want to see our strongest eleven producing magical performances every three days. I understand that desire—I share it. But football doesn't work that way. A mature team, a team that wants to survive a long season and achieve multiple objectives, needs squad depth.

Our new arrivals need competitive minutes to integrate properly into our systems. Our rotation players need matches to maintain their sharpness, their confidence, their connection to the tactical plan. This isn't optional luxury—it's crucial for everything we want to achieve this season."

He finished showing his determination: "Of course, even with rotation, whatever team we field will fight for victory with everything they have. We won't disappoint the Anfield crowd. That's a promise."

Meanwhile, back at Melwood's analysis rooms, Liverpool's players continued their preparation. The coaching staff had compiled detailed footage—Oldham's tactical tendencies, their stylistic approach, their likely game plan for defending at Anfield.

Everything was broken down, catalogued, analyzed for potential exploitation.

For Julien, reviewing this particular opponent sparked deeper thoughts on English football's extraordinary depth of history.

In England, almost any club you could name—even teams currently in the lower divisions had experienced some period of glory, some moment in the sun when they'd competed with the best.

The current Premier League hierarchy, with its concentration of wealth and success among a handful of super-clubs, represented just the latest chapter in a much longer, more complicated, more democratic story.

Oldham Athletic. The name might seem obscure to younger fans, particularly those who'd only started following football in the modern era. But scratch beneath the surface and you'd find genuine historical significance.

Their badge featured an owl—a symbol chosen for reasons lost to time but maintained with local pride. More importantly, they'd been there at the very beginning of the Premier League itself: founding members when the top flight broke away from the Football League in 1992.

The inaugural 1992-93 season had featured twenty-two clubs rather than today's twenty. Oldham had been one of them, competing alongside Manchester United, Liverpool, Arsenal, and the other giants. That season, they'd accumulated forty-six points and finished nineteenth in the table, successfully avoiding relegation by the narrowest of margins.

How narrow? It came down to goal difference. With just two goals—two goals across an entire season separating them from disaster, Oldham survived while Crystal Palace went down instead.

Their survival had been secured through pure drama during the final two matchdays. First, a crucial 1-0 victory over Aston Villa in the penultimate round, stealing three points that proved vital. Then, on the final day of the season, a chaotic 4-3 thriller against Southampton in a relegation six-pointer.

In that latter match, Southampton's legendary playmaker Matthew Le Tissier had scored a hat-trick that should have secured victory—yet still finished on the losing side.

Oldham had somehow found four goals of their own, survived by superior goal difference, and lived to fight another season.

But survival proved temporary, merely delaying the inevitable. The next campaign, 1993-94, Oldham's luck ran out. They finished second from bottom and dropped into what was then called the First Division. The gap to safety had been four points—they finished four points adrift of the team in twentieth place. Relegated alongside them were Swindon Town and Sheffield United.

The collapse had been painful to witness. In their final eight matches of that season, Oldham failed to win a single game—managing only three draws and suffering five defeats. That winless streak sealed their fate.

Even in that relegation season, though, Oldham had crafted one memory for the history books: they'd fought their way to the FA Cup semi-finals, battling Manchester United across two legs and demonstrating their fighting spirit before ultimately bowing out.

Since then, Oldham had spent decades drifting through English football's lower divisions, gradually fading from mainstream consciousness. Their trophy cabinet held three pieces of silverware in total: two second-tier championships—one from the 1990-91 season and another from the distant 1907-08 campaign plus one third-tier title from 1973-74.

Now, returning to Anfield for an FA Cup third-round tie, facing a Liverpool side that cost more in transfer fees than Oldham's entire club valuation—this was something precious for the old club. A chance to remind people they still existed.

At Oldham's pre-match press conference, manager Lee Johnson faced the cameras with a determined expression.

"We all understand how great Liverpool are as a club. We understand how difficult Anfield is as a venue. But understanding those things doesn't mean we're going to roll over and accept defeat before we've even kicked a ball. The FA Cup's magic comes from the possibility of upsets. We want to prove that if you give absolutely everything—you can trouble any opponent."

Johnson continued, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "We won't be intimidated by their reputation or their individual quality. My players know what this match means. It's a stage to showcase themselves, to test themselves against top-level opposition, and an opportunity to learn from competing against a legendary team."

When asked about tactics, he didn't hesitate. "We'll stick to our game plan: disciplined defending, everyone behind the ball when necessary, maintaining our defensive shape. But we're not just parking the bus for ninety minutes and hoping. We'll stay alert for set-pieces and dead-ball situations where we can create genuine pressure. This isn't negativity—it's making smart tactical choices based on realistic assessment of both teams' strengths and weaknesses."

A journalist asked about Liverpool's expected rotation.

Johnson shrugged, the gesture meant it didn't particularly concern him. "Their squad depth is incredible. Even with changes, whoever they select will be top-quality players. But for us, it doesn't matter who they pick. What matters is us being at our absolute maximum. My lads are ready. We're coming to Anfield with respect, absolutely, but we're also coming to fight until the final whistle. Who knows? Maybe we'll surprise some people."

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