Klopp's gaze swept over every player as he said. "The more we're favoured, the calmer we need to stay, and the more we need to let go of any thoughts about winning the title.
Praise from the outside world won't win us a single match. Only by focusing on training, focusing on every detail, staying humble and staying patient, can we hold our advantage at Anfield and take this crucial match.
Remember—the trophy isn't in our hands yet. Only by staying calm and giving everything we have can we truly make this Premier League dream come true!"
"Yes!"
The players nodded one after another.
Klopp said it again. "Same as always—until we're holding that trophy, we have no right to celebrate."
He'd said this many times before.
The players understood it too. Klopp's reminders were never unnecessary—the closer they got to the title, the more they needed to keep their heads.
Popping champagne at halftime just wouldn't do.
Soon, Klopp dismissed the players, and they walked out the door, heading toward the Melwood training ground.
Julien and De Bruyne walked side by side.
De Bruyne suddenly spoke up. "What the boss said just now—it's so true. The closer we get, the less room there is for carelessness. But honestly, when I sit down and really think about it, the smartest thing I've ever done in my life was probably following you to Liverpool."
Julien turned his head to look at De Bruyne, a warm smile spread across his face as he nodded gently.
De Bruyne smiled too. "You know how it was at Chelsea—I barely got any playing time. No matter how hard I trained, I couldn't earn Mourinho's trust. I just wasted away on the bench. There were times I almost started doubting myself, wondering if I really wasn't cut out for the top level."
"So when you called me, I didn't hesitate for a second," De Bruyne went on, a bit of emotion crept in his voice. "Looking back now, that was the smartest decision I've ever made. Coming here, the boss trusts me, gives me enough minutes, my teammates trust me too, we fight side by side—and have gone from winning streaks to leading the table, and now we've even got a shot at the Premier League title. It's night and day compared to how things were at Chelsea."
Julien didn't say much. He just listened.
He knew that sometimes being a listener was enough.
He understood Kevin well—a man with a lot of pride, and Chelsea had left him with something to prove.
De Bruyne turned to look at Julien, the corner of his mouth lifted into a relieved smile.
"I guess that's what choice is," He said softly. "Just like when you signed with Bastia—nobody could've guessed back then that you'd carve out a place for yourself there, and even less that we'd end up reunited at Liverpool, pushing for the Premier League title together. Sometimes I think it's all fate—every choice was pushing us toward something better."
Julien nodded. "You're right, it is a choice. But it's also something we fought for ourselves. You chose to come here—that wasn't fate, that was your courage. And us standing here now, with a shot at the title—that's not luck either. That's us and these fellas, fighting for it match after match."
De Bruyne nodded firmly. "Getting to chase the Premier League title with you, with these fellas—whatever happens in the end, this is something I'll remember for the rest of my life."
Then he flashed a wide grin. "But we're going to win it. No question."
The two of them exchanged a smile.
Liverpool had a full week to prepare for this match.
City, on this front, were at a bit of a disadvantage—after all, they still had Champions League matches pulling at their attention.
At the same time, compared to their usual pre-match swagger and bold talk, City this season after two painful defeats to Liverpool, no longer dared make easy promises before a match, let alone talk big.
Because the last two times they'd done pre-match interviews, they'd ended up looking like clowns once the final whistle blew.
City had lost, and lost badly, and lost in humiliating fashion.
In the league, they'd led at home at one point, only to be overturned by Liverpool in the end, losing 3–4 in a gut-punch of a finish, forced to watch their opponents walk away with the crucial three points on their own turf.
In the League Cup final, on a stage watched by millions, they'd fallen 1–3 to the Reds, watching Liverpool lift the League Cup trophy while they could only stand at the foot of the podium, choking down the bitterness of defeat.
Every day, swarms of reporters tried to get City's players to say something about the title-deciding showdown.
But unlike before, when the players used to talk freely, now they were guarded in front of the cameras, careful not to say anything bold.
Whether asked if they could beat Liverpool away from home, or whether they could close the points gap and stage a comeback for the title, the players' answers were all the same: "We'll give this match everything we've got, do our jobs, and try to get the best result we can."
City's players had become so tight-lipped that the media found it uncomfortable, even a little disappointing.
Come on, guys, give us something!
So, reporters who couldn't find their headline turned their attention to Nasri.
Of everyone in City's squad, Nasri was perhaps the one with the deepest history with Julien and the most star-crossed—and he became the one target the media pinned their hopes on for a story.
So, the reporters staked out the training ground, and wherever Nasri went, they were there, cameras and questions ready.
All kinds of sharp questions came at him, one after another.
"Going into the weekend against Liverpool, do you have confidence you can beat De Rocca, just once?"
"You've lost to Liverpool—lost to De Rocca—twice now. Will you be preparing something specific for him this time?"
"People say there's bad blood between you and De Rocca. Are you planning to get revenge for those two defeats?"
"De Rocca's the idol of French football right now, and you keep getting overshadowed by him. How do you see the gap between you two?"
These questions were like knives, stabbing again and again at Nasri's rawest nerve.
Every time he heard the words "De Rocca," "Liverpool," "revenge," his face darkened instantly.
For him, these weren't just ordinary pre-match interview questions anymore.
It had become something like an endless torment.
It seemed like, no matter what, he could never step out of Julien's shadow in this life.
Julien kept winning, kept lifting trophies, and it only made Nasri's mediocrity stand out more by comparison.
Especially after that last League Cup defeat to Julien, when one French outlet wrote something scathing: "Julien De Rocca is the exalted idol of French football, while Nasri is like a stray dog on the roadside that nobody bothers to look at twice—the gap between the two of them couldn't be wider."
So, hearing these interview questions now, Nasri simply couldn't take it anymore.
He shoved past the reporters and walked off without a word, and even as they called his name behind him, even as the camera shutters kept firing away, he never once looked back.
After a short time, the media had it all reported.
"Nasri Dodges De Rocca Questions, Flees the Scene in Silence!"
Headlines like "Nasri Can't Escape De Rocca's Shadow, Suspected of De Rocca PTSD" swept through English football almost instantly.
There were even reports claiming a reporter had caught Nasri losing his composure in private, and overheard complaining to the people around him, his voice was filled with grievance and frustration: "Why is it always me? Why does it always have to be me??"
Having finally found a bit of a story; the media naturally wasn't about to let go of Nasri.
The coverage kept spreading.
And fans—outside of City's own supporters reacted with almost universal mockery and jokes.
There was not a shred of sympathy.
The once-heralded French prodigy in midfield, one of the famed "Little Swans," had become a punchline among fans.
"I'm gonna die laughing, Nasri's clearly scared stiff of Julien. Can't even hear the guy's name without flinching. Full-blown PTSD."
"Wasn't he supposed to be all cocky before? Where'd that go? Lost to Julien twice, lost his spot on the national team, and now all he does is whine in private about 'why is it always me.' If you've got no game, don't front."
"The papers called him a stray dog—honestly that's giving him too much credit. At least a dog barks. This guy can't even work up the nerve to face Julien."
Some fans dug up old history, poking fun: "Remember that footage of Julien's first call-up to the French national team, when he nutmegged Nasri flat on the ground in training? Nasri just stood there frozen. Julien went past him like he was crossing the street. And now he wants to talk about revenge?"
"Two Premier League meetings—one a last-minute gut-punch, one a total blowout on the way to a trophy. Every single time, Julien shines and he fades. What's he got besides tagging along and complaining? Not even close to the same level."
"Bottom line, he's just not good enough. Julien's talent and work ethic are on another tier—he can't touch it. Lose the match, lose your spot, and all you can do is whine about bad luck? A player like that doesn't even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Julien."
Even during pre-match preparations, Liverpool's players brought the whole thing up with Julien.
Everyone wanted to hear what he actually thought about it.
Julien, for his part, didn't seem particularly moved. "I only just heard about it myself. It doesn't mean much to me. Whatever he's going through has nothing to do with me. All that big talk he used to throw around before—I never took any of it seriously anyway."
De Bruyne leaned in with curiosity all over his face. "By the way, I saw in the papers that the first time you got called up to the French national team, you nutmegged Nasri in training? And that you went past him like crossing the street? Is that actually true?"
De Bruyne's question instantly had everyone hooked.
All eyes turned to Julien, waiting for his answer.
Julien looked around at the curious faces, and without hiding a thing, gave a small nod, a faint smile touched his lips as he said casually, "Yeah, that happened. But it was just training, you know—just a normal move past a defender. Nothing special about it."
"Haha! Knew it, it's true!" De Bruyne was the first to burst out laughing. "I said it had to be—with your ability, going past him would be nothing. Didn't expect it to actually be like crossing the street, though. No wonder Nasri's been traumatized ever since."
Sturridge chimed in with a laugh too. "God, I can just picture it. Nasri must've been mortified—getting nutmegged by a rookie, and made to look like it was nothing."
"Ha ha ha!"
Everyone burst out laughing.
Gerrard clapped Julien on the shoulder. "That's our man. First cap for the national team and you're already putting him in his place—no wonder he's so scared of you now. You were what, seventeen back then?"
"Damn! I was still in the academy at seventeen." Henderson gave Julien a thumbs up.
Julien, looking at his teammates laughing around him, couldn't help but laugh too. "It's all in the past. I wasn't even thinking that much about it at the time—just playing my normal game. Whatever's going on with him, we don't need to dwell on it. Focus on training, get ready for City—that's what matters."
"Well said!"
"Let's hope Nasri doesn't completely lose it after losing to us again."
Of course, this was just a bit of small talk during Liverpool's preparations.
Nobody actually took Nasri seriously—it was just a laugh, nothing more.
Time flew by.
On the eve of the title-deciding showdown, City held their pre-match press conference.
The Chilean tactician Pellegrini appeared before the press.
At that moment, the room's attention was split. Half was on the looming clash of the season.
The other half remained on Nasri, still caught in the eye of the storm—the outside world's mockery, the fans' jokes, had made the City midfield anchor a topic the press conference couldn't avoid.
The moment the conference began, a reporter jumped straight to the Nasri question.
"Nasri's public image hasn't been great lately—there are even reports he's been diagnosed with 'De Rocca PTSD,' dodging questions about him and fleeing the scene. Do you think his state of mind will affect this match? What do you make of the fans calling him a coward?"
Hearing the question, Pellegrini's brow furrowed slightly, then he slowly began to speak. "I don't think Samir is a coward. Quite the opposite—he's an extremely hard-working, extremely competitive player.
He's been carrying an unnecessary amount of pressure lately—media over-interpretation, malicious mockery from fans, and the psychological weight of those two past defeats. All of that has been weighing on him.
Samir is just a person, like anyone else. He has feelings too. He gets tired too.
I hope everyone can give players a bit more respect and space, rather than just piling on criticism and ridicule.
He's been working hard to get his head right, he's put in a lot for this team's preparation, and I believe in him—I believe in all my players to answer every doubt with their performance on the pitch."
When asked about the history between Nasri and Julien, Pellegrini didn't want to dwell on it, and steered the conversation back to the match at hand. "The past is the past. Whatever happened—the last-minute defeat in the league, the loss in the League Cup final—all of that is history now.
This match is a completely new contest. We won't be held back by past defeats, and we won't be swayed by the noise from outside.
We'll give this everything we have, take care of every detail, and focus on the match itself. Liverpool are an extremely strong side, and right now they're in the lead.
But our players are just as capable. We're coming to Anfield with one goal: give it everything, fight for the win, close the points gap, and keep our title hopes alive.
I believe in my players. They're ready. They'll show the resilience and the fight that City is all about."
The reporters then moved on to other questions.
As the press conference continued, one reporter raised an unexpected question: "There are reports that after you left Real Madrid, you were in talks with Liverpool—that you might have had the chance to manage the Reds. Is that true?"
Pellegrini nodded, confirming it. "Yes, that's true. After I left Real Madrid, I did have conversations with Liverpool. At the time I spoke with both Dalglish and Purslow—they were looking for a new head coach then.
But in the end, Liverpool chose Mr. Hodgson, and I accepted the offer from Málaga instead.
That's all in the past now. What happened then doesn't affect the present, and nothing like it is likely to happen again in the future."
When asked whether he regretted not taking the chance to manage Liverpool, Pellegrini shook his head without hesitation.
"I don't regret turning Liverpool down at all—quite the opposite, I'm grateful for the choice I made. It was precisely because I didn't manage Liverpool that I had the chance to go to Málaga, to build up more coaching experience, and that's also why I had the opportunity to take over at Manchester City last summer, to manage this great club.
I love City. I'm really enjoying my time here as manager. My players work hard, and we share the same goals.
Right now, all my energy is on this match, on helping City fight for the win.
The choices I made in the past shaped who I am today, and shaped this City side as it stands now. I have no regrets at all."
Finally, a reporter brought up the question of defending against Julien.
Everyone expected Pellegrini to say something along the lines of having a targeted defensive plan for Julien.
Instead, Pellegrini answered plainly: "We can't stop De Rocca."
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