The words fell like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through the entire press conference.
Reporters exchanged startled glances. A few instinctively looked up, as if they couldn't quite trust their own ears for a Manchester City manager to admit, this bluntly, before a match, that he couldn't contain the opposition's star player was almost unheard of.
Say what you will, but at least the man was honest.
Pellegrini seemed to know exactly what kind of reaction his words would provoke, and pressed on.
"Look at the numbers. Only thirty-three rounds into the Premier League season, and De Rocca has already scored fifty-three goals. That kind of scoring rate, that kind of talent—you'd struggle to find its equal anywhere in European football.
He doesn't just score. He creates chances for his teammates too. His footwork, his explosiveness, his finishing—he has no real weaknesses. He is a genuine attacking genius.
Against a player like that, all we can do is try to limit him, try to disrupt his rhythm. But if you're asking whether we can truly stop him—I have to be honest. We can't.
In football, there are certain talents whose brilliance simply cannot be dimmed. De Rocca is one of them."
The moment Pellegrini finished speaking, a reporter in the front row shot up a hand.
"Manuel, I need to correct you on something. As of today, De Rocca's actual league goal tally stands at fifty-four—one more than you said."
Hearing the correction, Pellegrini showed not a flicker of embarrassment. If anything, he let out a short laugh, nodded, and turned to the reporter. "Ah—apologies, I misremembered. You're right, fifty-four."
Then he turned back to face the room, spread his hands, and posed the question to everyone at once. "You see the problem. A player who's scored fifty-four goals in thirty-three matches this season—how exactly are we supposed to defend against that?"
The reporters glanced at one another. A few couldn't hold back their laughter.
Before anyone could jump in with a follow-up, Pellegrini continued. "That said—none of this means we're giving up on defending. It certainly doesn't mean we're admitting defeat.
We will do everything in our power to set up the most sensible defensive shape we can, to get every player fully committed to disrupting De Rocca, cutting his connection with his teammates, and minimizing his shooting opportunities.
Not being able to stop him doesn't mean we'll shrink from the challenge.
In this match, we will still give everything we have not only to contain De Rocca, but to bring our own attacking strengths to bear and fight for the win.
Football has never been a contest between two individuals. It's a battle between two teams. We believe that, through the strength of the collective, we can go toe-to-toe with a powerful opponent."
Meanwhile—at the very moment Pellegrini was candidly admitting he couldn't stop De Rocca, Liverpool's own pre-match press conference was underway.
Naturally, the reporters' questions circled around Liverpool's imminent Premier League title.
"Jürgen, you led Dortmund to a Bundesliga title, then defended it, and even fought your way to a Champions League final—you built something remarkable there. Now you've come to Liverpool, and without a single full season in charge, you've already got them sitting on top of the table, one step away from the championship. How do you see what you've achieved?"
Klopp smiled at the question before answering. "I'm very grateful you brought up Dortmund. That's a time I'll never forget—a journey full of passion, fire, and love for the game.
Winning the Bundesliga with Dortmund, reaching that Champions League final—none of that was down to me alone. It was the players, the coaching staff, the fans, all pulling in the same direction. Dortmund gave me the chance to grow, gave me the confidence to manage, and taught me what it means to lead a team chasing a dream.
I'll always be grateful to Dortmund to every player, every member of staff, every fan who supported me there.
I'm managing Liverpool now, but I still follow Dortmund closely. I wish them nothing but the best. I hope they find their way back to the top and create something special again.
That chapter of my life is one of the most valuable things I carry with me. It keeps pushing me forward, every day, in this job."
He moved quickly on to his time at Liverpool. "Coming here was a fresh start for me and a heavy responsibility.
The results we've achieved so far, just like at Dortmund, come down to every single player fighting for this club, the coaching staff's work behind the scenes, and the support of the Anfield faithful.
But it's far too early to talk about 'achievements.' We're simply on the right path. There are still plenty of tough battles ahead starting with tomorrow's showdown against Manchester City.
Football is a team sport. No single person wins a match on their own.
Liverpool's players have worked incredibly hard. They have talent, they have resilience, they have that bond that holds a team together, Stevie, Julien, Kevin, Louis, all of them, everyone is giving everything for this club.
I've simply done what I'm here to do—build a tactical framework, help them grow, and chase this championship dream alongside them.
Getting to manage a club this great—I feel very fortunate, and I'm full of belief. I'm certain that as long as we keep giving everything we have, we'll reach our goal."
Soon, the conversation turned to the match itself. Asked about facing City, Klopp said, "City are an extremely strong side. They have excellent players, an excellent coaching staff. We've beaten them twice already this season, but we've never once underestimated them.
Tomorrow will be a needle-point contest, sharp against sharp. We won't let our guard down just because we've swept the season series against them, and we won't grow complacent just because we're currently ahead in the table..."
As soon as both managers' pre-match interviews went public, they set off a fresh wave of discussion among fans.
"Hearing Pellegrini admit he can't stop De Rocca—I burst out laughing. Fifty-four goals, that's a genius nobody can stop anyway. Tomorrow De Rocca keeps scoring, we crush City!"
"Respect to Pellegrini for keeping it real instead of talking a big game. The way De Rocca's playing this season, nobody CAN stop him. Admitting the gap isn't shameful—just go out and give it everything!"
"Sure, De Rocca's brilliant, but you can't just say 'we can't stop him' before the match even starts! Isn't that talking up the enemy and tearing down your own side? We're not automatically losing here!"
"Pellegrini should be firing his team up, not saying stuff like this that just deflates everyone. Even if you really can't stop him, you fight to limit him with everything you've got—that's the attitude City should have!"
Opinions flew in every direction, each side was certain it was right.
That night, Julien had already washed up and was getting ready for bed when his phone rang.
He hadn't planned on picking up until he glanced at the caller ID.
Zidane.
The moment the call connected; Zidane didn't even wait for him to speak first. "Julien, I hope I'm not interrupting your rest. I know tomorrow's your big match against City, so I wanted to call and wish you luck."
"No, not at all," Julien said. "Thank you, Zizou."
Zidane gave a light laugh. "No need to thank me. I don't get to watch you play in person very often, but I keep an eye on you, on Liverpool too. Your performances this season have been extraordinary. Enough to leave everyone in awe. I've already sorted out my travel—I'll be at Anfield tomorrow, watching in person. I didn't want to miss you fighting for the title."
Julien was caught off guard. "Really? Zizou, you're coming to the stadium?"
"Of course I am," Zidane said, pausing before continuing. "And not just tomorrow. For every one of Liverpool's crucial matches going forward, I'll be in England to watch. I want to be there with you through the whole run to the title. I know this season means everything to you and to Liverpool as well. I want to see with my own eyes the moment you lift that Premier League trophy."
This wasn't some spur-of-the-moment decision on Zidane's part. He was based in Madrid, but he'd been following Julien's progress closely the entire time.
After all, he had always believed Julien would be the next French Ballon d'Or winner.
Listening to all this, Julien felt warmth settle in his chest. "Thank you."
He meant it, completely.
Zidane had done so much for him—back when he first broke into the national team, when he transferred out of Ligue 1, and countless times besides. Zidane had always been the first one to stand up and speak on his behalf.
Not to mention how he'd used his own connections to help build Julien's reputation in the French press.
Zidane seemed to catch the emotion in his voice, and his tone softened further. "I've never once doubted that you'd become the next French Ballon d'Or winner."
"So—tomorrow's match. I believe in you. I believe in Liverpool. I know you'll win this game and take one more step toward the title."
"I understand, Zizou. I'll give it everything I've got!"
"Good. That's the Julien I know," Zidane said with a smile. "I won't keep you from resting any longer. Get yourself in the right state of mind. I'll see you at the stadium tomorrow. And remember—whatever the result, I'll always be behind you. I'm looking forward to seeing you win this match, and one day, standing on the Ballon d'Or stage."
"See you tomorrow, Zizou. Thank you!"
After hanging up, Julien still felt a lingering surprise that Zidane would actually come to watch him play.
Maybe, he thought, he'd underestimated just how much influence he now carried in French football.
A legend like Zidane didn't come out to watch a match on a whim.
The next day, the day of the title showdown had arrived.
Everyone had expected all eyes to be locked onto the looming clash between the two giants. No one anticipated that a small incident during a City training session would end up hijacking the headlines instead.
City's captain and defensive anchor, Kompany, had gone down unexpectedly during training, he was apparently injured.
The media pieced together what had happened.
During a session focused on contesting aerial balls, disaster struck without warning.
Kompany and his teammate Richards had jumped for the same high ball at the same moment. Their heads had collided violently, and both men had gone down.
Richards, after lying still for a moment, rubbed his forehead, got back up with ease, rolled his neck a few times, and looked to be perfectly fine.
Kompany, though, stayed down. He showed no sign of getting up.
Seeing this, City's coaching staff and support team rushed over immediately, gathering around Kompany to assess the damage.
The press, of course, had no way of knowing the details.
But the moment had been caught on camera by a reporter at the scene, and it spread across the internet within minutes.
Headlines like "Kompany Injured in Training" and "City Captain May Miss Reds-Blues Showdown" shot out instantly.
Everyone understood exactly what Kompany meant to Manchester City.
He was their defensive backbone, their captain, the immovable rock that held the entire back line steady. Steady in the tackle, sharp in his reading of the game whether in the air or on the ground, he was irreplaceable to City's defence.
Against a Liverpool side in this kind of hot attacking form, Kompany's role mattered more than ever.
Once the news broke, fan discussion exploded.
On the Liverpool side, the mood was, understandably, one of excitement.
"Heaven's on our side! If Kompany's really hurt, City's back line is finished—this'll make scoring so much easier, this match is basically in the bag!"
"Don't celebrate too soon—what if it's just a minor knock? Still, if Kompany's out, that's massively in our favour. He's the one player back there we could actually count on to hold things together."
City fans, meanwhile, were spiralling into anxiety.
"No, no, no—how did Kompany get hurt? He's our defensive core! Without him, who's supposed to handle Liverpool's attack? Their firepower is terrifying right now, and Suárez is back and clearly in good form too."
"Please don't let it be serious. We cannot afford to go into this title decider without Kompany—without him anchoring the back line, there's no way we hold up against Liverpool's attack!"
"Hopefully it's just a minor thing and he can still play. Otherwise, our defence is completely done for. Pellegrini already said he can't stop De Rocca—lose Kompany too, and we're genuinely going to lose this."
Neutral fans jumped into the discussion as well, most of them simply marvelling at how dramatic the whole thing was.
"What a shock—the match hasn't even started and City might already be down their defensive core. That's a brutal blow. If Kompany's really out, this title decider just lost a huge chunk of its suspense."
"Kompany's their captain, he's got a strong mentality—hopefully it's just a minor injury and he can still start. Otherwise, this whole clash loses a lot of what made it compelling."
As kick-off drew closer, the mood among fans grew more and more tense.
City's official channels had released absolutely nothing.
Liverpool fans held out hope that Kompany really was sidelined. City fans prayed for some kind of miracle recovery. The media kept chasing the story, speculating endlessly about the extent of the injury and whether he'd make the starting lineup.
Everyone assumed this unexpected injury was about to completely reshape the outcome of the title decider.
Everyone assumed City's back line was about to plunge into crisis because of Kompany's absence.
And yet—less than an hour before kick-off, both clubs officially released their starting lineups.
Every single guess was blown apart.
Right there on City's team sheet, in plain sight, was Kompany's name as still the starting centre-back, still the captain on the pitch.
The truth came out in an instant.
That collapse during training had been nothing more than a smokescreen, released deliberately by the City camp.
Kompany had never been injured at all.
Maybe he'd simply gotten a little too into it, treating the training ground like a movie set, delivering an Oscar-worthy performance of a phantom injury.
Countless City fans had spent the whole day worried sick over him.
And Liverpool fans' hopes had all come crashing down for nothing.
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