August 3rd, 2016
…
The Premier League had not even started yet. It was still the offseason.
And yet the coming season was already being spoken about like it had the potential to become one of the greatest in football history.
Maybe even great enough to surpass the shockwave Leicester had sent through the world the season before.
And that was without even counting the Euros.
A month had passed since England lifted the trophy, but people were still talking about it as if the final had ended yesterday. The goals, the celebrations, the captain, the miracle that had somehow followed Tristan from club football into the national team.
The last twelve months had already given football one of its greatest seasons.
Somehow, impossibly, the next one looked like it might be even bigger.
England — no, the entire football world — was waiting for the collision of names, clubs, managers, and egos.
Matches that would have been huge in any other year now felt like global events before the fixtures had even been played.
And all because one more name had decided to climb aboard the hype train that English football had become.
.
Sky Sports HQ – 6:12 p.m.
Dun... Dun... Dun...
The familiar Sky Sports Breaking News theme echoed across televisions throughout the country.
A red banner swept across the bottom of the screen as the studio graphics shifted.
BREAKING NEWS
PEP GUARDIOLA OFFICIALLY JOINS MANCHESTER CITY
Within seconds, every monitor inside the studio switched to the same image.
Manchester City's official Twitter announcement.
A photo of Pep Guardiola in sky blue.
A short welcome message from the club.
And confirmation that his official presentation would take place in three days.
The Premier League had just become even louder.
.
Inside the studio, producers hurried between cameras.
Pep Guardiola's announcement had caught everyone by surprise.
The evening's schedule had been thrown out the window.
Sky Sports had rushed to assemble whoever they could get to the studio on such short notice.
David Jones took a slow breath as the red recording light blinked on.
He glanced once toward the monitor showing Guardiola's announcement before looking into the centre camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen watching from across the country and around the world, welcome back to Sky Sports."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"I don't think any of us expected to be sitting here discussing another managerial earthquake less than twenty-four hours after José Mourinho's unveiling at Manchester United."
He gestured toward the giant screen behind him, where Pep Guardiola's smiling face filled the display.
"But football rarely waits for anyone."
"If José Mourinho's arrival at Old Trafford wasn't enough..."
"...Manchester City have now officially confirmed Pep Guardiola as their new manager."
The camera widened to reveal the full panel.
David turned slightly to his right.
"With me tonight, former Manchester United defender Gary Neville, Liverpool legend Jamie Carragher—"
Carragher couldn't help but smile.
"I like the sound of that."
Neville glanced sideways at him with a grin. "I know one current Liverpool player who'd probably disagree with the 'legend' part."
The panel laughed.
Carragher pointed across the desk. "Hey, that’s not fair and you know it."
David chuckled before continuing.
"And to my left, Arsenal and France icon Thierry Henry, alongside former Liverpool captain Graeme Souness."
Henry smiled warmly and gave a small nod toward the camera.
"Pleasure to be here."
Souness gave the camera a friendly smile.
"It's always a pleasure to be here."
David looked back toward the centre camera, the smile still lingering on his face.
"Now then..."
He glanced briefly over his shoulder at Guardiola's unveiling before turning back to the audience. "What a statement from Manchester City."
"I'll admit, this has caught just about everyone by surprise."
"There had been whispers linking Pep Guardiola with the Premier League for months, but nothing to suggest an announcement was this close."
"City have managed to keep this remarkably quiet."
"No major leaks. No countdown. No media frenzy."
"Then, out of nowhere..."
He gestured toward the screen behind him.
"...they drop one of the biggest managerial announcements English football has ever seen."
David smiled.
"And with José Mourinho unveiled at Manchester United only yesterday, it feels as though the Premier League has entered a completely new era overnight."
For a brief moment, nobody spoke.
All four pundits found themselves looking back at the image of Pep Guardiola standing in Manchester City's sky-blue tracksuit.
It was Graeme Souness who finally broke the silence.
He shook his head slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I've got to give City credit."
The others turned toward him.
"They've pulled this off brilliantly."
"No leaks. No photographers camped outside a hotel. No journalists piecing together clues."
He gestured toward the screen.
"They've simply woken up this morning and announced they've hired Pep Guardiola."
Henry nodded in agreement.
"That is the impressive part."
He smiled.
"In football, everybody knows everything."
"Or at least they think they do."
A few chuckles spread around the desk.
"For a club to keep something this big completely under wraps..."
He shook his head.
"...that takes discipline."
Neville leaned forward in his chair.
"And patience."
David looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You don't appoint someone like Pep overnight."
Neville rested his forearms on the desk.
"This has been months in the making."
"There would've been meetings."
"Plans."
"Discussions about transfers."
"Discussions about the academy."
"The style of football."
"The coaching staff."
He smiled.
"So while the rest of us are sitting here surprised..."
"...Manchester City have probably been planning today for half a year."
Carragher nodded before pointing toward Neville.
"That's exactly why this announcement worries me."
Neville raised an eyebrow.
"Worries you?"
"Of course."
Carragher spread his hands.
"Look around."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Liverpool have Klopp."
"United have Mourinho."
"Now City have Guardiola."
He looked across at Henry.
"Chelsea are about to bring in Conte."
Then he glanced back toward David.
"This league's becoming ridiculous."
Henry laughed softly.
"I was just thinking the same thing."
He leaned back in his chair, still smiling.
"For years, people have called the Premier League the toughest competition in football."
He gestured toward the screen behind them.
"Now..."
"...it might also have the greatest collection of managers we've ever seen in one league."
Souness gave a quiet laugh.
"And the season hasn't even kicked off yet."
The panel shared a smile.
David looked around the desk before letting out a small laugh himself.
"I've got a feeling this isn't the last time we'll be saying that over the next few weeks."
David turned back toward Neville, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Gary..."
"As a Manchester United legend, let me put you on the spot."
Neville laughed.
"I knew this was coming."
"Twenty-four hours ago, Manchester United unveiled José Mourinho."
David pointed toward the giant screen behind them.
"Today, Manchester City unveil Pep Guardiola."
He folded his hands together.
"So tell me..."
"Which side of Manchester should be happier tonight?"
Neville didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he smiled to himself before looking around the panel.
"I think both sets of supporters should be excited."
Carragher immediately leaned back in his chair.
"Cop-out."
The studio burst into laughter.
Neville pointed at him.
"I hadn't even started!"
"You were going to fence-sit."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
David chuckled.
"Gentlemen..."
Neville shook his head, still smiling.
"Look, José Mourinho has walked into a football club that expects trophies."
He tapped the desk lightly.
"That's what he does."
"He wins."
"I don't care what happened at Chelsea."
"I don't care what happened last season."
"His track record speaks for itself."
Henry nodded.
"That is true."
Neville continued.
"But Pep..."
He glanced back toward Guardiola's picture.
"...Pep has inherited something different."
David raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
"He isn't just expected to win."
"He's expected to change how Manchester City play."
"To create an identity."
"To build a dynasty."
Souness nodded slowly.
"And that's much harder."
Carragher looked across at him.
"You think so?"
"I know so."
Souness smiled.
"Winning one league title is difficult."
"Building a football culture that lasts ten years..."
He shook his head.
"...that's another challenge entirely."
Henry leaned forward, folding his hands together.
"I actually think Gary is right."
Carragher looked at him.
"Don't encourage him."
Henry laughed.
"I cannot help it."
"The pressure on Mourinho is immediate."
"He must win."
"The pressure on Guardiola is different."
"He must transform."
David looked around the panel.
"So one manager has to deliver results..."
"...while the other has to reinvent a football club."
Neville nodded.
"Exactly."
Carragher smiled.
"And meanwhile..."
He spread his hands.
"Klopp's sitting at Liverpool watching all of this with Tristan Hale and N'Golo Kanté thinking..."
"'Keep talking.'"
Neville laughed.
"There it is."
"I was wondering how long it'd take."
Carragher shrugged innocently.
"What?"
"You knew I couldn't leave Liverpool out forever."
David smiled, waiting for the laughter to die down.
"Jamie, we'll get back to Liverpool in a minute. I promise."
Carragher pointed at him.
"I'm holding you to that."
"I know you are."
Another chuckle spread around the desk before David looked back toward the camera.
"But Gary touched on something interesting."
He turned toward Neville.
"You mentioned planning."
"You don't bring in managers like José Mourinho and Pep Guardiola without promising them reinforcements."
David gestured toward the large monitor.
"And that brings us to perhaps the biggest talking point of the summer."
The screen behind them changed.
SUMMER TRANSFER WINDOW
Liverpool — £160 million
Tristan Hale — £120m (Leicester City)
N'Golo Kanté — £40m (Leicester City)
Manchester United — £56 million
Eric Bailly — £30m (Villarreal)
Henrikh Mkhitaryan — £26m (Borussia Dortmund)
Zlatan Ibrahimović — Free (Paris Saint-Germain)
Manchester City — £35 million
İlkay Gündoğan — £21m (Borussia Dortmund)
Nolito — £14m (Celta Vigo)
Chelsea — £33 million
Michy Batshuayi — £33m (Marseille)
Arsenal — £37 million
Granit Xhaka — £35m (Borussia Mönchengladbach)
Rob Holding — £2m (Bolton Wanderers)
Tottenham Hotspur — £28 million
Vincent Janssen — £17m (AZ Alkmaar)
Victor Wanyama — £11m (Southampton)
Everton — £19 million
Ashley Williams — £12m (Swansea City)
Idrissa Gueye — £7m (Aston Villa)
West Ham United — £20 million
André Ayew — £20m (Swansea City)
Sofiane Feghouli — Free (Valencia)
David looked back toward the panel.
"Liverpool lead the Premier League by a considerable margin with one hundred and sixty million pounds invested."
He paused. "But the transfer window is still far from over."
Another graphic appeared beneath the spending table.
BIGGEST RUMOURS STILL CIRCULATING
Manchester United
Paul Pogba (Juventus)
Manchester City
John Stones (Everton)
Leroy Sané (Schalke 04)
Chelsea
Kalidou Koulibaly (Napoli)
Arsenal
Alexandre Lacazette (Lyon)
David studied the graphic for a moment before turning back to the panel.
"Just looking at these completed transfers, one thing immediately stands out."
"These don't feel like signings made without the approval of a manager.."
He pointed toward Manchester City's column. "Take Manchester City."
"Pep Guardiola has only just been announced officially, yet İlkay Gündoğan already looks like the perfect Pep midfielder."
"Technically brilliant."
"Comfortable receiving the ball under pressure."
"Capable of controlling the tempo of a match."
He shifted his hand across the screen.
"Nolito brings another intelligent, possession-based attacker."
Then he pointed toward Manchester United.
"On the other side of Manchester, Mourinho's fingerprints are just as obvious."
"Eric Bailly gives him the physical defender he loves."
"Henrikh Mkhitaryan adds creativity between the lines."
"And then there's Zlatan Ibrahimović."
David smiled.
"I don't think José Mourinho needs much introduction when it comes to Zlatan."
A few laughs spread around the studio.
He moved his hand one final time.
"And then Liverpool."
The screen changed to footage of Tristan Hale's welcome ceremony at Anfield, followed by N'Golo Kanté standing beside Klopp with a Liverpool scarf draped over his shoulders during his own presentation a few days later.
"One hundred and sixty million pounds spent on two players."
"Tristan Hale for one hundred and twenty million."
"N'Golo Kanté for forty million."
David looked toward Carragher.
"One is the best player in the world."
"The other might be the best ball-winner in the Premier League."
Carragher was already smiling.
"Sounds like good business to me."
Neville scoffed.
"One hundred and sixty million is 'good business' now?"
Carragher shrugged.
"When it's those two? Absolutely."
David smiled before turning back to the camera.
"So before either Pep Guardiola or José Mourinho has managed a single competitive match..."
"...it's already clear that the biggest clubs in England have been implementing their visions behind the scenes for months."
He glanced toward Neville.
"Gary..."
"How convinced are you that Paul Pogba becomes the next piece of Mourinho's puzzle at Manchester United?"
"I'd say I'm very confident." Gary answered very confidently. "Paul Pogba left Manchester United as a talented academy player."
"If he comes back..."
"...he comes back as one of the best midfielders in world football."
David nodded. "So you think it happens?"
"I do." Neville smiled. "I actually think it's time."
"It's time for him to come home."
"It's time to be part of Manchester United's revival."
"The club gave him his first opportunity."
"Now he has the chance to help take them back to where they belong."
Carragher couldn't resist. "You're making it sound like a Hollywood movie."
Neville laughed. "Well, football usually is."
The studio chuckled.
Neville continued.
"And let's be honest..."
"If you're Paul Pogba, what bigger challenge is there?"
"You've won league titles."
"You're one of the biggest names in football."
"But now?"
"Now you've got José Mourinho."
"You've got a Manchester United side trying to climb back to the top."
"And standing in your way..."
He pointed toward Liverpool's section on the transfer graphic.
"...is Tristan Hale."
"If you want people talking about you as the best player in the world..."
"If you want to win Ballons d'Or..."
"You don't avoid players like Tristan."
"You beat them."
Henry nodded slowly.
"I agree with that."
"You cannot become the best by avoiding the player everyone already believes is the best."
"If Pogba returns..."
"...he is accepting that challenge."
David turned toward Henry, deciding to shift the discussion.
"Thierry, let me bring you in."
"You've experienced football in France, Italy, Spain, and England."
"When you look at this transfer window as a whole, what stands out to you?"
Henry leaned back, thoughtful. "I will say something that perhaps supporters in England will not like."
The panel looked toward him.
"It is wonderful for the Premier League."
He gestured toward the transfer graphic.
"But I am not sure it is wonderful for European football."
David raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
Henry spread his hands.
"Look at the spending."
"Liverpool."
"Manchester United."
"Manchester City."
"Chelsea."
"The Premier League is attracting the biggest managers."
"The biggest television deals."
"And now it is beginning to attract almost every elite player."
He paused.
"England is spending money at a level the other major leagues simply cannot match."
"La Liga."
"Serie A."
"The Bundesliga."
"Ligue 1."
"They can compete on the pitch."
"But financially?"
Henry slowly shook his head.
"That gap is becoming bigger every single year."
Souness nodded.
"And when the money is there..."
"...the talent usually follows."
Carragher smiled.
"I don't hear many Premier League fans complaining."
Henry laughed.
"Of course not."
"If I supported an English club, I would be delighted."
He looked back toward the camera.
"But if I were sitting in Spain, Germany, Italy or France..."
"I'd be wondering how long before England starts taking even more of our best players."
David glanced once more at the transfer graphic before smiling.
"And judging by some of the rumours still circulating..."
"I'm not convinced this spending spree is anywhere near finished."
David glanced once more at the transfer graphic before turning back toward the camera.
"And that might be the most frightening part."
He allowed the words to sit for a moment.
"We are only at the beginning of August."
"The window still has weeks left to run."
"Paul Pogba could still return to Manchester United."
"Manchester City are expected to move again."
"Chelsea are not finished."
"Arsenal are still searching."
"And Liverpool..."
He glanced toward Carragher, who was already smiling.
"...well, Jamie assures me Liverpool are never finished."
Carragher spread his hands.
"I never said that."
Neville immediately leaned in.
"You were thinking it."
The studio laughed one last time.
David smiled before looking back into the camera.
"By the time this transfer window closes, we may not just be looking at the most expensive summer in Premier League history..."
He paused.
"...we may be looking at the most expensive transfer window football has ever seen."
Behind him, the graphic shifted again.
Guardiola.
Mourinho.
Klopp.
Tristan.
Pogba.
Sané.
Stones.
One after another, the names filled the screen.
The season had not started yet.
But the arms race already had.
.
August 5, 2016 – Melwood Training Ground – 8:06 a.m.
For Liverpool Football Club, preseason had already been underway for weeks.
The medical examinations had been completed.
The conditioning work had begun.
Fitness coaches had pushed players through endless sprint drills, endurance tests, gym sessions, and recovery programs designed to prepare their bodies for another relentless campaign.
The first preseason friendlies had already come and gone, giving Jürgen Klopp an early look at his squad.
Normally, by this stage of the summer, Liverpool would already be deep into tactical work.
Normally.
But nothing about this summer had been normal.
England's triumph at the European Championship had delayed the return of several first-team players.
Then came the pursuit of Tristan Hale, the longest, most expensive transfer saga football had ever witnessed.
By the time the deal was finally completed, there had been contract negotiations, medical examinations, sponsorship commitments, farewell ceremonies in Leicester, welcome ceremonies at Anfield, media obligations, and enough paperwork to occupy an army of lawyers.
N'Golo Kanté's arrival only added to the whirlwind.
For nearly two weeks, Liverpool's preseason schedule had revolved around integrating two of the most sought-after footballers on the planet.
Today, however, was different.
For the first time all summer, Jürgen Klopp had virtually his entire squad together.
No more presentations.
No more cameras.
No more announcements.
Just football.
Exactly the way Klopp liked it.
.
A metallic emerald-green Audi R8 rumbled through the quiet Liverpool streets, the early morning sun glinting off its polished bodywork.
Tristan rested one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming absentmindedly against the centre console as music played softly through the speakers.
Beside him, N'Golo Kanté looked out of the passenger window, taking in the city as it slowly came to life.
Unlike Tristan, who had already spent the past week settling into his new home, Kanté was still surrounded by moving boxes.
Rather than arriving separately, Tristan had simply offered to pick up his best friend.
"You know," Tristan said with a grin, "I was expecting your house to look a little more organized by now."
Kanté laughed.
"I've only been here a few days."
"I know."
Kanté smiled before looking back out the window.
For a few moments, only the quiet hum of the engine filled the car.
Then he spoke again. "It feels different this year."
Tristan glanced over briefly.
"How so?"
Kanté thought about it for a second. "Last season..."
"We surprised everyone."
"No one expected Leicester to challenge for the title."
He smiled softly. "By the time they realized we were serious, it was already too late."
Tristan nodded.
"That's true."
"But this season..."
Kanté let out a small breath.
"Everyone is preparing."
"Mourinho at United."
"Pep at City."
"Conte at Chelsea."
He laughed quietly.
"It feels like the whole league decided they didn't enjoy watching us win."
Tristan couldn't help but grin. "I was thinking the same thing."
He drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.
"It's almost like everyone looked at us lifting trophies and said..."
"'Alright, that's enough of that.'"
Kanté laughed.
"So now they've hired three of the best managers in football."
"And they're still spending hundreds of millions."
Tristan shrugged dramatically.
"I suppose winning everything has consequences."
Kanté looked at him.
"You sound proud."
"I am."
Tristan smiled.
"If beating Leicester wasn't motivation before, it certainly is now."
He glanced ahead as the familiar entrance to Melwood came into view.
"And now..."
"They don't just have to stop us."
"They have to stop Liverpool."
A smile spread across Kanté's face.
"I think they'll try."
Tristan laughed.
"I hope they do."
"It'll make winning even more fun."
Thirty minutes later, the gates of Melwood Training Ground came into view.
Even at this hour, activity had already begun.
Supporters lined the barriers outside the entrance, many wearing Liverpool shirts with TRISTAN 22 across the back. Others clutched footballs, autograph books, and homemade signs, hoping to catch a glimpse of the club's new stars.
Camera crews occupied almost every available patch of pavement.
The moment the emerald-green Audi R8 appeared around the corner, heads turned.
"That's Tristan!"
Within seconds, dozens of phones shot into the air.
"Tristan!"
"Over here!"
The Audi slowed as it approached the security gate.
Then someone on the passenger side pressed closer to the barrier, squinting through the windshield.
"...Wait."
Another fan followed his gaze.
"Is that Kanté?"
For a heartbeat, the crowd seemed unsure.
Then recognition spread like wildfire.
"It is!"
"N'Golo!"
"Kanté!"
"We love you, N'Golo!"
The chants quickly became a mixture of both names.
"Tristan!"
"Kanté!"
"Come on, lads!"
Inside the car, Tristan glanced sideways with a grin.
"I think they finally noticed you."
Kanté chuckled, giving the supporters a small wave through the window.
Tristan smiled. "We got a few minutes." He eased the Audi to the side of the entrance instead of driving straight through the gates.
The reaction outside was immediate.
"They're stopping!"
"Oh my God!"
"They're actually stopping!"
Several Liverpool stewards stationed outside the entrance exchanged quick glances before moving into position, opening a narrow path between the barriers for the supporters nearest the front.
The atmosphere remained excited, but orderly.
Tristan climbed out first.
A wave of cheers rolled down the line.
"TRISTAN!"
"N'GOLO!"
Kanté stepped out beside him a moment later, smiling shyly as another chorus of applause greeted him.
The clicking of camera shutters became almost deafening.
Photographers leaned over one another for a better angle.
Telephoto lenses tracked their every movement.
Journalists called out questions from behind the barriers.
"Tristan! Looking forward to your first session?"
"N'Golo! How does it feel to be at Liverpool?"
"Tristan! One picture over here!"
Neither answered.
Instead, Tristan walked straight toward the supporters with a smile.
"Morning, everyone."
The simple greeting earned another roar.
For the next several minutes, the pair worked their way along the barrier, signing shirts, footballs, boots, and autograph books while stopping for the occasional selfie.
Kanté's quiet smile never seemed to leave his face.
A young boy nervously held out a France shirt.
Kanté signed it before crouching beside him for a picture.
Tristan laughed as one fan produced an old Leicester shirt instead.
"You've brought the wrong kit."
The supporter grinned.
"No chance."
"This one's earned your signature."
Shaking his head with a smile, Tristan signed it anyway.
A few metres away, Liverpool's own media department quietly documented everything.
A club photographer moved along the touchline of the crowd, snapping pictures for the official website while another member of the media team recorded short clips for Liverpool's social media channels.
The first training session of the season hadn't even begun.
Already, there was content the supporters would be talking about before lunchtime.
Eventually, one of Liverpool's security supervisors checked his watch before calling over politely.
"Sorry, lads."
"We'll need to get you inside. The manager's expecting you."
Tristan nodded.
"Last couple."
He finished signing two more shirts before handing the pen back.
"Thanks for coming out."
"See you after training."
Another round of applause followed as he and Kanté climbed back into the Audi.
The gates slowly swung open, and the emerald-green R8 rolled into Melwood, disappearing from sight as the supporters continued waving behind them.
The Audi rolled slowly through the gates before joining the small line of cars already parked near the first-team building.
A few players had clearly arrived before them.
Tristan spotted a black Range Rover, a silver Mercedes, and a dark Porsche sitting beneath the morning light.
He brought the Audi to a stop and looked through the windshield toward the brick buildings ahead.
For a moment, neither he nor Kanté moved.
"This is it," Tristan said quietly.
Kanté looked toward the entrance, then let out a small laugh.
"Now that we are here..."
He smiled sheepishly.
"...I think I am nervous."
Tristan glanced at him.
"You?"
"Yes."
"After everything we've played in?"
Kanté shrugged.
"This is different."
Tristan understood what he meant.
Matches had pressure.
Finals had pressure.
But this was something else.
A new club.
A new dressing room.
New teammates.
New expectations.
And from the moment Tristan had signed, Liverpool had seemed to orbit around his arrival.
For better or worse, the club's entire summer had become attached to his name.
Tristan leaned back in his seat and gave Kanté a small smile.
"Nothing to be nervous about."
Kanté raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Really."
Tristan nodded toward the building.
"They already know how good you are."
.
The two climbed out, grabbing their training bags from the small storage compartment before making their way toward the entrance.
A handful of Liverpool staff members offered warm smiles as they passed.
"Morning, Tristan."
"Morning, N'Golo."
"Welcome."
"Good to finally have you both here."
Tristan greeted each of them in return while Kanté quietly thanked everyone who welcomed him.
They had barely reached the front steps when the entrance doors swung open.
Jürgen Klopp emerged carrying a steaming coffee in one hand and a thick folder tucked beneath the other arm.
The moment he spotted them, his face lit up.
"Finally!" he called, throwing one hand into the air.
"The famous millionaires have arrived."
Tristan couldn't help but laugh.
"We're five minutes early."
Klopp glanced dramatically at the watch on his wrist before shaking his head.
"You still had about an hour left."
"I was expecting you to be twenty minutes late after signing another few thousand shirts outside."
Kanté chuckled quietly.
"They were waiting."
"I noticed," Klopp replied with a grin. "The club photographer certainly noticed."
He stepped forward, wrapping Tristan in a brief hug before patting him firmly on the back.
"Good to have you here, my friend."
Then he turned to Kanté.
Instead of shaking his hand, Klopp pulled him into the same warm embrace.
"And you."
"I've been waiting a long time to coach you."
A shy smile spread across Kanté's face.
"Thank you."
Klopp took another sip of his coffee before motioning toward the building.
"Come."
"It's about time you met your new family."
The three walked through Melwood together.
As they moved down the familiar corridors, staff members greeted Klopp while offering another round of welcomes to Liverpool's two newest signings.
Treatment rooms.
Recovery pools.
The gym.
Analysis suites.
Tristan couldn't help noticing how different everything felt compared to Leicester.
Melwood was more polished and more modern which he didn’t blame Leciester for as the club just a few years ago was still in the English Championship.
As Klopp chatted casually about the day's schedule, Tristan's thoughts drifted.
Liverpool weren't finished. The club had just invested one hundred and sixty million pounds to bring him and Kanté to Anfield, so naturally, spending had slowed for the moment.
For a short while, Tristan had been slightly concerned.
He knew the players Klopp wanted. He knew the players he had personally pushed for.
Sadio Mané.
Mohamed Salah.
A few others.
Players who could turn Liverpool from dangerous into terrifying.
But after spending that much money on two players, even a club like Liverpool had limits. But Klopp had reassured him.
So had the owners.
More money was coming.
Champions League revenue.
Commercial growth.
New sponsorship deals.
Record-breaking shirt sales since his arrival.
And something else.
Something bigger.
The details were still being handled behind closed doors, and no one had given him a clear answer yet, but Tristan had been told enough to understand one thing.
Liverpool's budget wasn't finished.
For now, he decided to trust them.
Trust Klopp.
Trust the club.
As someone from the future, he knew what the club was capable of.
Trust that the same people who had found a way to bring him and Kanté here would find a way to finish the rest of the squad properly.
Klopp suddenly stopped outside a large wooden door.
The muffled sound of conversation drifted through from the other side.
He looked at Tristan.
Then at Kanté.
A wide smile spread across his face.
"Ready?"
Tristan exchanged a glance with Kanté before both nodded.
Klopp wrapped his hand around the handle.
"Good."
He pushed the door open.
The door swung open.
Conversation immediately died.
One by one, heads turned toward the entrance.
Jordan Henderson.
James Milner.
Philippe Coutinho.
Roberto Firmino.
Daniel Sturridge.
Adam Lallana.
Emre Can.
Nathaniel Clyne.
Dejan Lovren.
Lucas Leiva.
Alberto Moreno.
Divock Origi.
Nearly the entire first-team squad was already inside.
For just a heartbeat...
Nobody spoke.
Every player simply looked at the two men standing beside Klopp.
The world's best footballer.
The Premier League's best defensive midfielder.
Liverpool's two biggest signings in club history.
The silence lasted barely two seconds.
Then—
"TRISTAN!"
Jordan Henderson was the first to move.
The Liverpool captain crossed the dressing room in three quick strides before wrapping Tristan in a firm hug.
"I was wondering when your ass was actually going to show up."
Tristan laughed, returning the hug.
"I was here early."
"After making half of Melwood wait outside while you signed shirts?"
Henderson pulled back with a grin.
"That's not early. That's celebrity time."
The room erupted into laughter.
Tristan raised both hands.
"The fans were already there."
"Yeah, yeah."
Henderson glanced toward Kanté with a smile.
"And you brought backup."
Kanté laughed softly.
"He picked me up."
"Smart man."
Henderson pulled Kanté into a hug next.
"If he ever drives too fast, just tell Klopp."
Tristan looked offended.
"I drive perfectly."
Milner's voice came from across the room.
"That's what every terrible driver says."
Another round of laughter broke out.
James Milner was next. The veteran midfielder walked over with a grin before pulling Tristan into a quick hug.
"Thank God you're on our side now."
Tristan laughed. "That bad?"
Milner stepped back and pointed between him and Kanté.
"Mate, between you two, I spent the last two seasons getting bullied for ninety minutes."
Kanté blinked innocently.
"I did nothing."
Milner stared at him.
"You tackled me twelve times in one match."
Kanté smiled.
"Maybe a little."
The room broke into laughter.
Daniel Sturridge wandered over next, already grinning like he'd been waiting for his turn.
"Bro." He pulled Tristan into a hug. "I've been dreaming about this."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"Should I be worried?"
"No, you should be excited."
Sturridge stepped back and pointed at him.
"Vardy had you feeding him chances every week and suddenly he's scoring for fun."
He tapped his own chest. "Now it's my turn."
Tristan laughed.
"So that's the plan?"
"That's exactly the plan."
Sturridge spread his arms.
"I'm scoring more than Vardy this season. I don't care what anyone says."
A few players immediately started laughing.
Henderson shook his head.
"Here we go."
Sturridge ignored him completely.
"You give me those passes, I'll do the rest."
Then he turned toward Kanté.
"And you just keep winning the ball back every ten seconds."
Kanté laughed softly.
"I can try."
Sturridge pointed at him.
"Don't be humble with me. I've watched you terrorize midfields for two years."
Milner nodded.
"He's right. It's annoying."
Nathaniel Clyne and Adam Lallana came over together, both already smiling.
Clyne shook Tristan's hand before pulling him into a quick hug.
"Good to see you in red properly."
"Feels different," Tristan admitted.
"It looks better," Lallana said.
Tristan glanced down at the Liverpool training gear.
"That right?"
"Much better than Leicester blue."
Kanté looked down at himself.
"I liked Leicester blue."
Lallana grinned.
"You'll get over it."
The laughter continued as the rest of the squad came forward.
Emre Can greeted them with a firm handshake and a nod.
Lucas Leiva welcomed them calmly, telling both that if they needed anything, they only had to ask.
Dejan Lovren shook Tristan's hand before pointing toward the cameras outside.
"Thank you."
Tristan frowned.
"For what?"
"Nobody will ask me anything anymore."
The dressing room burst out laughing.
Divock Origi came over last from that group, quieter than the others but smiling.
"Welcome, man."
He shook Tristan's hand, then Kanté's.
"It's good to have you both here."
Across the dressing room, Philippe Coutinho stepped forward with Roberto Firmino beside him.
Coutinho offered Tristan his hand first.
"Welcome."
They shook hands before exchanging a brief hug.
"I've been looking forward to this," Coutinho said with a smile on his face knowing and being a lot more confident in his future than a few days ago.
"Same here," Tristan replied.
Firmino didn't bother with a handshake.
He hugged Tristan first, then Kanté, smiling the entire time.
"My friends."
He looked between them both.
"This season is going to be fun."
Sturridge immediately called from behind them.
"Especially for me."
Henderson threw a towel at him.
"Give it a rest."
Sturridge caught it against his chest and grinned.
"Never."
Within minutes, the room no longer felt unfamiliar.
The conversations split naturally.
England teammates picked up where they'd left off during the Euros.
The South Americans naturally drifted into their own corner, laughing as Moreno traded a few jokes with Tristan in Portuguese.
It was one of Tristan's weaker languages compared to Spanish, French, Hungarian, English, or Mandarin, but he knew enough to keep up.
Milner was already arguing with Henderson about who would finish first in the fitness tests.
Sturridge was still telling anyone willing to listen that he was outscoring Vardy.
The dressing room buzzed with noise.
Tristan looked around the room.
The banter.
The familiar faces.
The Liverbird stitched proudly across every training top.
Only a few weeks earlier, he had said goodbye to Leicester City.
Today...
He stood in Liverpool's dressing room.
Not as a visitor.
Not as an opponent.
But as one of their own.
The next chapter of his journey had finally begun.
.
Lord Shiva, Teh_storm and the other guys, this is for you and your patience. I appreciate it.