The whole city of Liverpool was restless.
The people were hungry.
Waiting…
But faced with the outside world's clamour and expectation, the Liverpool squad had grown only more composed. Everyone knew they'd entered the final stretch.
There was no trace of slackness in them, no sign that the glow of a title within reach had gone to their heads.
They threw themselves back into training, both body and soul. Preparing in earnest for the FA Cup semi-final against Wigan Athletic.
Klopp kept hammering the point home in training: "Restlessness is the enemy of victory. League or cup, every match demands everything we've got. Stay focused on what's in front of us—that's how we get what we want."
At last, the day of the FA Cup semi-final arrived.
The match would be played at Wembley Stadium, not an empty seat was available in the house. A red tide swept once more over England's football cathedral.
Countless Liverpool fans had made the pilgrimage, singing their anthem at full voice, roaring the Reds on!
Wigan's fans refused to be outdone, and began throwing their own voices behind their team.
Their side was clearly overmatched, but they still dared to hope for a miracle.
Liverpool, though, cared about this semi-final more than anyone. Because it wasn't just the ticket to the FA Cup final at stake—it was the dream of the treble.
Peep!
At the referee's whistle, the FA Cup semi-final was underway.
Liverpool came out of the gate hungry for the win, no probing, no feeling out the game, straight into full-throttle pressing.
Wigan were pinned deep in their own half from the first minute.
Wave after wave of attack rolled forward like a rising tide, and Liverpool seized complete control of the match.
Klopp's system was on full display once again.
Quick one-touch combinations, breaks down the flank, incisions through the middle, every attack carried strong threats.
Wigan's back line, under the Reds' relentless assault, began cracking almost immediately.
In the 12th minute, Liverpool broke the deadlock.
Gerrard pierced a ball through midfield; Julien slipped past two Wigan defenders and burst clean through on goal.
Facing the keeper, he stayed composed and slotted it home.
1–0!
Liverpool had the dream start.
Wembley erupted. The Reds' fans roared themselves to hoarse, celebrating the crucial opener.
With the lead in hand, Liverpool didn't ease off for a second.
They kept the pressure relentless.
In the 25th minute, Robertson won the ball high up the left with an aggressive press, drove to the byline, and whipped in a pinpoint cross. Suárez rose in the box to meet it, heading the ball home with precision, and it flew straight into the net.
2–0!
Just thirteen minutes later, Liverpool had doubled their lead!
Wigan's defence was completely on the back foot now, and you could see their spirits sinking.
They tried to raise a counter, but couldn't get anywhere near breaking down Liverpool's midfield.
Every time they touched the ball they were swarmed instantly, unable to advance, forced into pure damage control, it was a total one-way street.
And Liverpool pressed their advantage.
In the 38th minute, De Bruyne orchestrated from midfield and slipped a clever pass through to a bursting Julien. Julien took a touch inside, shrugged off his marker, and drove a shot low into the corner of the net.
3–0!
Not even halftime had came yet, and Liverpool already held a strong 3–0 lead, all but shattering Wigan's hopes of reaching the final.
Wembley's red celebration only grew louder.
The half-time whistle blew. The score stood frozen at 3–0.
Liverpool had put on a blistering, ruthless display of total dominance, laid bare for everyone to see.
The players walked off calmly toward the tunnel.
In the dressing room, Klopp didn't dwell on praise. Instead, he reminded them not to relax, to keep the intensity up on both ends of the pitch, to give Wigan nothing to counterattack with. "Our target is the final, the second trophy. We cannot afford to let our guard down just because we're ahead."
Out in the stands, Liverpool's fans had already begun celebrating.
As far as they were concerned, after a first half like that, there wasn't a team on earth who could live with them.
Before long, the break was over.
The second half kicked off, and Liverpool kept the pressure on.
Klopp used the platform to rotate a few players, manage the squad's legs, banking energy for the league run-in and the final still to come.
Even so, Wigan had no answer for the Reds' offensive.
In the 62nd minute, substitute Henderson, hustling as ever, won the ball in midfield and drove forward, laying it off to Suárez. Suárez took a touch, feinted the keeper the wrong way, and slotted it home.
4–0!
Wigan didn't roll over completely, deep into stoppage time, they found a consolation goal on the counter, pulling the score to 4–1.
But it didn't change a thing about how the match had gone.
If anything, Liverpool used Wigan's fading legs against them, and just minutes later launched one more attack. In the 88th minute, Julien latched onto a pass from Gerrard and completed his hat-trick with a powerful strike into the net.
5–1!
The final whistle blew. The match was over.
Liverpool had thrashed Wigan Athletic 5–1, sailing into the FA Cup final.
Wembley was drowned in red. Flags waved, fans screamed themselves raw, embraced each other in tears.
"The second cup! We want the second cup!"
The fans' expectations only climbed higher.
Whether the final opponent turned out to be Hull City or Sheffield United, neither, in their eyes, stood a chance of arm-wrestling Liverpool.
The double, it seemed, was already theirs to claim.
After the match, Liverpool's players came together in a group embrace, savouring a win as complete as it was satisfying.
They knew this victory hadn't just carried them into the FA Cup final—it had brought them one step closer to the double, to the dream of the treble.
Standing at the touchline, Klopp wore a smile of satisfaction.
He threw up his arms to salute the fans, his eyes were full of certainty—the Premier League title was within touching distance, the FA Cup final was locked in, the second trophy of the season was all but in hand, and the treble miracle was slowly, steadily becoming real.
In the wake of the match, England's football media was awash with nothing but Liverpool.
"Julien's hat-trick sends Liverpool into the FA Cup final!"
"5–1 rout of Wigan—Liverpool closing in on their second trophy!"
"Unstoppable. Truly, completely unstoppable. This Liverpool side is a phenomenon this season!"
The treble was no longer a fantasy.
It was a reality Liverpool could reach out and touch.
The fans partied through the night.
But there was no time to linger, Wembley's celebrations hadn't even faded, and three days later Liverpool were already back in action.
That weekend.
Liverpool would travel to face Norwich City.
Four matches remained between them and the club's first-ever Premier League title. Win this one, and they'd be crowned champions with three games still to spare.
Every major sports outlet had already turned its focus to this away trip to Norwich.
Multiple publications wrote that the Reds' display at Wembley had been nothing short of stunning—Julien and Suárez firing on all cylinders, Gerrard's command of midfield, and Klopp's now-mature high-press system, all were combining to make this Liverpool side the most unstoppable force in the league this season.
"The FA Cup rout was only the prologue—the league title is the true endgame," one outlet wrote. "This away match against Norwich looks lopsided on paper, but it's really the decisive step toward an early coronation. Win this, and the Reds will hold an overwhelming advantage in the title race with the club's first-ever Premier League trophy just a single step away."
Before the match, Klopp stressed: "The FA Cup win gives us momentum, but it isn't the finish line. The league title remains one of our core goals this season. Against Norwich, we have to give everything—win this match, repay our fans' faith, and take one more step toward the crown."
April 20th, Norwich.
11:00 a.m.
The match between Liverpool and Norwich kicked off.
Early kick-off, away fixture—it didn't matter. Liverpool's traveling fans packed the away end completely. Nobody wanted to miss a match that might crown their team champions.
Even the general-admission sections had no shortage of Liverpool red.
On the pitch, despite the exertions of the FA Cup semi-final just days before, Liverpool's squad were still in phenomenal form.
As the match wore on, Norwich, for all their home advantage, simply couldn't withstand Liverpool's power.
Their defence kept springing leaks, their attack couldn't find a way through the Reds' back line—pinned back, run ragged, purely reactive.
Liverpool, meanwhile, kept probing with fluid one-touch play and sharp work down the flanks, wave after wave crashing into Norwich's defence. A goal felt like only a matter of time.
In the 28th minute, Liverpool broke through — and in doing so, reached a historic milestone. Gerrard threaded a through-ball from midfield to a bursting Julien.
Julien, with his instinct for where the ball would drop, stuck out a leg just ahead of the last defender and steered it into the net.
1–0!
Liverpool had the lead!
And that goal was Julien's 60th league goal of the season—a personal milestone was unlocked.
He'd pushed the Premier League's single-season scoring record to a place few players could ever dream of reaching.
After scoring, Julien spread his arms wide, saluting the traveling Liverpool fans.
His teammates rushed over, mobbing him in celebration of the historic moment.
Gerrard clapped him hard on the shoulder, genuinely thrilled for him.
The away end erupted, scarves waving overhead, fans chanting Julien's name at the top of their lungs: "Sixty goals! Julien! Sixty goals!"
With the lead secured, Liverpool didn't let up for a moment.
They kept the pressure relentless, and Norwich's defence simply came apart.
In the 43rd minute, Suárez pressed hard in the box, forced a mistake, won the ball, and fired it low into the net.
2–0!
Liverpool doubled their lead and went into the break 2–0 up, the match's outcome was all but decided.
The second half kicked off.
In the 72nd minute, De Bruyne pulled the strings from midfield with a clever pass out to Henderson, breaking down the flank. Henderson drove to the byline and cut it back; Suárez met it in the box and slotted it home for his second of the day.
3–0!
At 3–0, the match was as good as over.
Norwich's players' fight seemed to drain away, their defending wass reduced to going through the motions, while Liverpool's players kept the ball with total calm, savouring what already felt like a champion's win.
The traveling Reds' fans had started celebrating early.
At last, the referee's whistle sounded, calling time on the match.
Peep!
The match was over!
Liverpool had cruised past Norwich, 3–0, securing this crucial league win.
The instant the whistle sounded, the away end erupted into thunderous cheers, fans falling into each other's arms in tears.
Pure, unrestrained joy poured out.
And back in Liverpool itself, the whole city became active at the same moment—streets, pubs, restaurants, every corner where fans had gathered. The Reds' faithful cheered wildly, waving red scarves and club flags, singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" at full voice.
Fireworks lit up the sky above the city. A red tide swept over every street.
Every face carried a joy beyond words.
Because they knew, Liverpool were champions. Early.
With the match over, the Premier League table was set in stone.
With three matches still to play, Liverpool led second-place Chelsea by nine points, and with an outrageous goal-difference cushion on top of it, they had wrapped up this season's Premier League title early.
The club's first-ever Premier League trophy.
An end to years of heartbreak, of watching the title slip through their fingers—the dawn of a brand-new era for the Reds.
After the final whistle, in the commentary booth, Martin Tyler's voice cracked as he roared into the microphone: "Full time! Liverpool beat Norwich 3–0!
Champions with three matches to spare!
Liverpool are champions!
This season's Premier League champions!
Do you understand what this means, everyone?
This is not just another win. This is redemption, years in the making. This is the club's first-ever Premier League trophy— they've done it!
Jurgen Klopp has done it! Julien De Rocca has done it!
Every player who's fought for this shirt, every fan who never walked away—they have finally done it!
How long has it been since the league was rebranded?
Twenty-two years!
We watched this club charge at that trophy again and again, only to fall short at the final hurdle, time after time—setting out full of hope, only to come home, again and again, with nothing but heartbreak.
Those late nights of holding on. Those tears of frustration. Those fans who never once turned their backs. Those players who fought until the very last second, refusing to bend—we saw it all. We remember it all.
There were times we thought this trophy would slip past Liverpool once more.
Times we feared that all that waiting would come to nothing, all over again.
But today—they broke the curse. They ended the heartbreak.
A nine-point lead, crowned with three games to spare—Liverpool have won this title through win after win, through unstoppable momentum, through a resilience carved into their very bones!
Julien reaching sixty league goals. Suárez and Gerrard fighting side by side. Klopp's high press lighting up the season. This Reds side deserves every ounce of applause, every bit of glory—deserves this wait that has spanned years!
Liverpool. Premier League champions!
This is a shout that Liverpool's fans—that this entire city—has waited far, far too long to let out!"
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