News of the scare had already set Liverpool's fans spinning conspiracy theories: surely this was City's doing.
It was a ploy to confuse Liverpool and throw their pre-match plans into disarray and make them believe there was a hole in City's back line—and let their guard down because of it.
No one really knew what was going on.
But the moment the fans thought they'd found the "truth," the forums exploded.
"So sly! City's actually pulling the fake-injury card now, and they think that'll fool us? Please. Even with Kompany out there, he still couldn't handle Julien!"
"Pellegrini says before the match they can't stop Julien, and now Kompany's faking an injury—City's completely out of ideas. All they've got left are cheap tricks to mess with our heads."
"They can't seriously think that'll work."
City's own fans, meanwhile, were making plenty of noise of their own.
Of course, all of that was just pre-match theatre. Klopp hadn't let his guard down against City just because Kompany's fitness was in doubt.
Outside the players' tunnel at Anfield, the roar was already ear-splitting.
A red tide had swept over the entire stadium.
The smoke of this battle had already crept into every corner of the ground. And yet, at the end of that tunnel, inside the Liverpool dressing room, it was strangely quiet.
Warm-ups were over. Kick-off was maybe ten minutes away.
Klopp stood in the middle of the room and began to speak. "I know today matters to us more than almost anything else."
His eyes moved slowly over each player as he went on. "There's a lot of noise out there. Some people say we've got this title in the bag. Some say we'll lose to City. Some are waiting for us to make history. Some are waiting for us to fail.
There's Kompany's smoke bomb. There's the hope in the fans' eyes. There's this whole city, waiting.
I know all of it.
But I'm not here to talk tactics today. I'm not going to tell you how to pass, how to defend, how to score—you already do all of that well enough.
I want to tell you one thing, and one thing only: get your heads right, and clear out everything that isn't the game.
The temptation of the title. The noise outside. Every result that came before this one. Everyone else's expectations. All of it—everything that isn't the ninety minutes in front of you—leave it behind, just for tonight."
He took a step forward, his voice rose a little. "I know that's hard. This match matters too much for it to be easy—so much that every one of us is carrying heavy weight on our shoulders.
But remember this: the bigger the pressure, the calmer we have to be. The higher the expectations, the sharper we have to focus.
We didn't come here to answer the noise. We didn't come here to prove anything to anyone.
We came here to play this match well—for ourselves, for the man next to you, for every single person in that stand who came to support us.
So—"
Klopp let the word hang a moment, looking once more at every familiar face.
Then, with a smile, he said, "Focus on the match itself. Every pass. Every tackle. Every shot. Focus on the man beside you. Don't think about what happens if we win, or what happens if we lose.
All we can do is take care of what's in front of us, do it right, give everything to every single challenge.
I believe in you.
I hope you believe in yourselves too."
He fell silent.
The room didn't erupt into some rousing battle cry but the players nodded, one after another. "Understood, boss."
Klopp nodded back, satisfied, a warm smile spread on his face. "Go on, then. Good luck out there. I'll be with you the whole way."
Soon after, as the players stepped out of the dressing room and made their way, step by step, toward the pitch—
The roar that had been building outside broke through the tunnel like a wave, crashing over them, rattling the eardrums.
This was Anfield's cry. This was the faith of the Kop.
The stadium was packed to the rafters in a sea of red shirts stretching from end to end.
Every fan's eyes were full of the same hope—that today, their club would take the most important step yet toward the Premier League title.
Beat City.
In that moment, the whole of Anfield seemed to become a red storm, every inch of turf soaked in fervour, every corner was echoing with the same roar.
"Go~"
In the tunnel, referee Mark Clattenburg waved the players out.
Just as they stepped onto the pitch, gathering at the centre circle for the pre-match formalities —
BOOM!
BOOM, BOOM!
The Kop erupted with an even louder roar!
The players couldn't help but turn their eyes toward the stand.
Liverpool's diehards were shouting, cheering with everything they had.
And then—a giant tifo slowly unfurled, swallowing the entire Kop end in an instant.
It stunned the whole stadium and every fan watching on a screen somewhere else in the world.
The tifo was built on Liverpool's signature red, and at its centre stood the club's iconic Liver Bird, wings spread, chest out, its eyes sharp as if it were looking down over the whole of Anfield.
And clutched in the Liver Bird's beak was a Premier League trophy, gleaming gold.
Every line of the trophy's engraving was rendered in painstaking, dazzling detail.
The message could not have been clearer.
The instant the tifo dropped fully open, Anfield's roar hit its peak.
Cheers and shouts from every other stand rolled together into one continuous wave of noise, echoing up into the sky.
More than a few fans had tears in their eyes. They had waited for this day, waited to see Liverpool lift the Premier League trophy for far, far too long.
And today—they were closer to that dream than they had ever been.
The Liver Bird with the trophy in its beak wasn't just a tifo. It was every Liverpool fan's hope made visible.
Up in the commentary box, Martin Tyler took in the scene and, for a moment, sounded moved.
His voice carried out through the broadcast, into every corner of Liverpool, into the ears of every fan around the world watching this match:
"Look at this scene. Look at this sea of red. Look at this extraordinary tifo on the Kop—the Liver Bird with the Premier League trophy in its beak. This is Liverpool's hunger. This is what every fan in this stadium has been waiting for.
There is no question—this is the year Liverpool have the best chance they've ever had, since the Premier League began, to lift that trophy.
And this match has been dramatic before a ball's even been kicked. City sent out a smoke signal before kick-off—Kompany going down in training with what looked like an injury and then Pellegrini stood up at his press conference and admitted, flat out, that they can't find an answer for a player who's scored fifty-four goals this season: Julien De Rocca.
His form this season has been frightening. Fifty-four goals in thirty-three matches—he's proven, with results, that he's the finest forward in world football right now.
He's Liverpool's hero. And he means something to French football too—the French press, and no shortage of French legends, are already calling him the next Ballon d'Or winner.
In fact, our cameras just picked out Zinedine Zidane himself in the stands today."
Tyler paused, then continued. "All the noise, all the sideshows, all the anticipation before this match—it all gets answered in the next ninety minutes. Liverpool want the title. City want a way back into the race.
Every question hanging over these two clubs gets settled right here, at Anfield
If Liverpool win, City's hopes of a late title turnaround are finished for good.
Tonight, that tifo on the Kop is faith. It's hope. And it's fuel.
Get ready, everyone—this head-to-head, this needle match, is about to begin. This might just be a game that goes down in Premier League history.
Let's watch it happen, together."
By now, the players had taken their positions at the centre circle.
The Liverpool players turned to face the Kop, waving to their fans.
Julien lifted his head, looking up at the tifo—the Liver Bird with the trophy in its beak. In his ears was the roar of the crowd. In his mind, there was only one single thought.
The Premier League title.
Clattenburg blew the whistle, and the match was officially underway!
BOOM!
BOOM, BOOM!!
Anfield's roar hit its peak in an instant, the red tide was sweeping the stadium once more.
Up on the Kop, the giant tifo had already been folded away, replaced by fans in shirts as fiery red as flame—one after another, spreading like wildfire, sweeping across every stand in the ground.
At the same time, out on the pitch, the match had barely started before Liverpool switched straight into high press mode, refusing to give City a single comfortable touch.
Right from kick-off, Liverpool's midfield press bit down hard—N'Golo Kanté's interception was as sharp as ever.
He cut out a pass meant for Fernandinho.
Then quickly laid it off to Kevin De Bruyne beside him.
De Bruyne carried the ball forward and, facing Yaya Touré's recovery run, didn't hesitate for a second—he sent a ball straight through City's defensive line, right into the path of the onrushing Julien.
Julien, with that terrifying burst of pace, shook off Martín Demichelis and tried to break into the box, but his French national teammate Clichy's quick recovery run denied him a clean run through on goal.
Julien used his footwork to open up a sliver of space and cut inside.
He curled a shot toward the far corner but with no feel for the ball yet this early, it clipped the outside of the right post and went out.
The near-miss drew a groan of disappointment from all of Anfield.
City's players looked tense.
Having weathered Liverpool's opening attack wave, City quickly adjusted their rhythm, trying to settle things down by holding the ball in midfield.
In the third minute, Kompany calmly collected a clearance from Simon Mignolet inside his own box and passed it out to Clichy.
Clichy pushed forward down the left, sidestepping a challenge from Raheem Sterling.
He found David Silva in midfield.
Silva took the ball and settled the tempo, slipping past a challenge from Steven Gerrard with ease before combining in a give-and-go with Yaya Touré.
Then he slid a through-ball to the onrushing Jesús Navas.
Navas surged forward down the right, and Andy Robertson raced back to cover, timing a challenge perfectly to knock the ball out for a City throw-in near the touchline.
Since the throw was close to the box, Silva sent it straight into the area from the resulting set play, and Sergio Agüero—no, it was Edin Džeko shook off Virgil van Dijk's marking and rose to meet it, a powerful header aimed straight at goal!
Right at the target!
But Mignolet was electric—he leapt full-length and tipped it over the bar with one hand.
He'd shut down City's first real chance of the match.
Klopp clapped hard from the touchline, pleased with the save, gesturing for his players to keep the pressure up, not to ease off for a second.
In the fifth minute, Sterling pressed Pablo Zabaleta down the right.
His footwork was sharp enough to win the ball, and he thrashed in a cross almost immediately.
Suárez attacked the near post and just barely got a touch with the outside of his boot—the ball flew straight at goal!
A vicious, awkward strike!
But Joe Hart was every bit as sharp—he showed why he's one of the best keepers in the world, turning it away with a diving save.
De Bruyne followed up on the rebound, but he tried to put too much on it and skied the ball into the stands.
He looked genuinely frustrated with himself.
He raised a hand toward his teammates, admitting the mistake was on him.
Julien just gave him a thumbs up.
Nothing was wrong with the shot—De Bruyne had simply failed to keep it down.
Liverpool's relentless pressing had City's back line looking ragged, but Pellegrini's pre-match plan for the counter was starting to bear fruit.
In the eleventh minute—Yaya Touré cut out a pass from Gerrard in midfield and immediately hit a long ball forward, finding Samir Nasri up front.
Nasri had been teased online for supposedly having "Julien PTSD," but there was nothing wrong with his ability.
He took the pass and tried to break past Piszczek down the left. Piszczek defended tightly, sticking to him step for step, and Nasri barely managed to squeeze in a cross.
Džeko attacked it in the box, but Van Dijk fought for position and headed it clear.
Kanté collected the loose ball and immediately restarted the attack.
The pace of transitions on both ends was frighteningly fast.
De Bruyne collected in midfield and combined with Julien and Suárez in a neat triangle.
Julien made a run inside, dragging both Kompany and Demichelis with him, then cleverly laid it off to the onrushing Gerrard.
Gerrard had completely open space.
He struck it from range—the ball rocketed straight toward goal!
This time Hart threw himself at it, but his fingertips only just grazed it.
But Gerrard's shot went for a little too much precision, aiming for the corner—
CLANG!
The ball struck the post and cannoned back out, where Kompany hoofed it clear immediately.
BOOM!
That post rattled every Liverpool fan in the stadium right down to their bones; hearts seemed to skip a beat all at once.
It had been a golden chance—everyone thought it was in.
Such a shame.
A moment later, the fans broke into applause anyway, cheering the players on regardless.
On the balance of play, Liverpool were clearly the more dominant side.
City could only try to weather the storm.
That said, City weren't rattled by the constant pressure instead, they were finding the gaps that opened up behind Liverpool's high press and hitting them on the break.
That was exactly the flaw Pellegrini had spotted in Klopp's system.
There was huge space in behind.
The moment Fernandinho intercepted a Liverpool pass, he didn't hesitate, didn't try to hold the ball and played it straight to David Silva in the middle.
Silva drove forward with the ball, his footwork was so sharp that pressing him was nearly pointless for Liverpool.
In a flash, Silva slipped a pass through to the advancing Džeko.
Džeko held off Van Dijk's marking, took the ball, turned, and shaped as if to shoot immediately.
That pulled Bacary Sagna's attention over to cover.
But then—Džeko checked his run and, instead, flicked the ball backward with a delicate backheel to the onrushing Nasri!
Nasri had a golden opportunity in front of him!
He knew a chance like this didn't come often, and he shaped up to shoot immediately.
But the next instant—
A figure came flying in, taking the ball and the man down together in one sliding tackle!
"Ahh!"
Nasri let out a cry of pain!
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