Late April in Liverpool, and the sun was shining, the breeze was mild.
Anfield had long since been swallowed by a sea of red.
Today was Liverpool's first home match since clinching the title early, and although the Reds had already secured the Premier League crown with nothing left to play for in the standings, Anfield was still packed to capacity.
Because today, there was a trophy ceremony!
The fans, naturally, weren't about to miss a moment like this.
Every supporter who'd made it to the ground wore a red championship commemorative jersey, "LIVERPOOL PREMIER LEAGUE CHAMPIONS" printed across the chest, waving red scarves and club flags in their hands.
Cheers and songs rolled in from every corner of the stadium, echoing on and on.
Before kickoff.
Above the Kop, a giant TIFO slowly unfurled, covering the entire stand—red as its base, the Liverpool crest and an image of the Premier League trophy printed across it, and beneath them, in bold letters: "FIRST CROWN, IMMORTAL REDS!"
Below that was a group photo of the entire squad, Gerrard and Julien at its centre, unmistakable among the rest.
The instant the TIFO unfurled, the stadium erupted in a deafening roar.
"You'll Never Walk Alone" rang out across Anfield in a red tide surging through the stands.
This glory that belonged to Liverpool had, in this moment, reached its peak.
The two teams came out onto the pitch one after another.
Just then, Chelsea's players stood in two neat lines on the pitch, and as Liverpool's players emerged from the tunnel and stepped onto the grass, passing through the corridor between them—
Chelsea's players broke into applause, one after another, paying tribute to the Reds who had just clinched the title with games still to spare.
Players who knew each other well slapped hands, exchanging smiles.
Julien walked just behind Gerrard.
When he saw Chelsea's players lined up applauding, when he heard the fans' fevered roar from the stands, when his eyes swept over the giant TIFO and the sea of fans in red commemorative jerseys—his thoughts churned inside him.
Images of the past and the scene before him wove together in his mind, and feeling welled up all at once.
He remembered his previous life—that this very match, back then, had come before Liverpool locked up the title. It had been the decisive game in the title race.
Gerrard had slipped at the critical moment and made a fatal mistake.
And in the end, the Premier League title, so close he could have touched it, had slipped away.
That regret had cut to the bone—had become a wound that never healed, for Gerrard and for every Liverpool fan.
But in this life, everything was different.
Right now, Gerrard was standing right beside him, brimming with joy, nodding toward the lined-up Chelsea players.
In Julien's chest, there was something like wonder, something like release, something like gratitude—and beneath it all, a thread of relief: relief that he'd been given the chance to be here, to stand beside Gerrard and rewrite history, to spare every Liverpool fan from ever having to carry that old, aching regret, and instead share in the joy of this title, together.
He turned his head quietly, glancing over at Gerrard beside him.
Gerrard seemed to sense his gaze, turned, and smiled at him.
Soon, the ceremony came to an end.
Peep!
With a blast of the referee's whistle, the match officially began.
Perhaps because the title had already been secured, or perhaps to save legs for the FA Cup final and next season's Champions League campaign, Klopp made extensive changes to his lineup, sending out a swarm of new faces.
Julien, Gerrard, and the other core players started the match, but their presence was little more than symbolic.
Meant as a gesture of thanks to the fans for their support.
Chelsea, on the other hand, were entirely different—Mourinho fielded his first-choice XI.
But the match itself, as a whole, was unremarkable.
Liverpool's rotated side lacked cohesion; the substitutes fought hard, but the gap between them and the first team showed clearly in tempo and attacking efficiency—they struggled to create real scoring chances going forward, and their defence looked loose as well.
Chelsea, meanwhile, leaned on their well-drilled tactical system and the steady form of their regulars to keep firm control of the game.
Wave after wave, they pressed at Liverpool's back line.
There wasn't much in the way of dazzling combination play, but they never let up the pressure on the Reds.
The second half began.
Only a few minutes in, Klopp made his move, taking Julien and then Gerrard off, one after the other.
Both men were sent off with applause and cheers ringing down from the stands.
For the rest of the match—Liverpool played on with a lineup of nothing but fringe players.
Chelsea pressed their advantage, converting two counterattacks into goals, one after the other, steadily widening the gap.
Liverpool's rotated side wanted to fight back, but the gulf in quality was too plain, and they could never quite carve out a real chance.
The play on the pitch stayed flat, without much drama.
Peep!
The final whistle blew, the referee signalling the end of the match—Chelsea had beaten Liverpool 2-0 away from home.
Even in defeat, there wasn't a trace of disappointment among the Anfield faithful.
They kept right on singing their anthem from the stands!
Waiting for what came next—the championship trophy ceremony!
After the final whistle, Chelsea's players traded handshakes and hugs with Liverpool's, congratulating them once more.
As for Liverpool's players, with the FA Cup final just ahead and next season's Champions League already beckoning, the smiles on their faces only grew wider.
Under Premier League regulations, a team that clinches the title early holds its formal trophy ceremony after the conclusion of its first home match following the win.
And tonight, Anfield had long been ready, waiting for the men of the Reds to lift that Premier League trophy they'd dreamed of for so long, to bear witness to Liverpool's moment of history!
While the players celebrated on the pitch—stadium staff worked methodically to set up the presentation stage, laying down a red carpet, the Premier League trophy fixed securely on its stand at the centre of the platform.
It caught the light and gleamed, drawing every eye in the stadium.
By now, Anfield had already tipped over into a sea of pure madness.
Fans in their red championship jerseys rose to their feet as one, singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" at full volume.
Deafening as if it might tear the very sky over Anfield wide open!
A red tide surged through the stands, every face was lit with something close to overwhelmed; more than a few fans had tears rimming their eyes, welling up and ready to spill.
This was the fulfilment they'd waited years for, the championship moment that belonged to them.
A few minutes later, the trophy ceremony officially began.
Premier League officials, dressed in formal attire, walked up onto the stage one by one, and the whole stadium broke into warm applause in greeting.
Then came the presentation of the championship medals.
Liverpool's players walked up onto the stage one after another to collect the medals that were theirs.
The younger players' faces were full of excitement and joy—some held up their medals, flashing victory signs at the cameras; others clasped hands with the teammates beside them in celebration.
Among the more senior players like Gerrard, there was something more—a deeper, quieter emotion in their eyes.
They had lived through the club's lowest years, had watched heartbreak after heartbreak unfold.
And now, they had finally earned the first Premier League winner's medal of their careers.
The instant Julien walked up onto the stage, the roar from the crowd hit its peak—"JULIEN! JULIEN!"
The cheers rolled on, one wave after the next.
He took the medal without any fanfare, simply hung it around his neck, glanced down at it for a moment, and let a rare, brilliant smile cross his face.
In this moment, every bit of effort had finally found where it belonged.
The last man to walk up onto the stage was Liverpool's captain, Gerrard.
The instant he appeared, the roar from Anfield seemed almost fierce enough to pierce the clouds, fans were rising to their feet, waving their red scarves, chanting: "STEVIE! CAPTAIN!"
Tears slid down face after face in the crowd.
Gerrard took his medal, hung it around his neck, his gaze was drifting slowly over the fans, over the teammates beside him, the tears in his eyes were almost impossible to hold back any longer.
More than a decade of holding on, of fighting through, of falling just short again and again.
In this one moment, all of it turned into something whole.
He had finally led Liverpool to lift the club's first-ever Premier League trophy.
Once every player had received their medal, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived—a Premier League official solemnly placed the heavy championship trophy into Gerrard's hands.
Gerrard took the trophy with both hands and raised it high above his head.
In that instant, the cheers and the songs from the crowd reached their absolute peak!
"LIVERPOOL ARE CHAMPIONS!"
The chant rolled on, over and over, deafening, without end!
Fireworks bloomed in the sky above Anfield, red and gold, lighting up the whole stadium, lighting up the face of every fan in it.
Gerrard held the trophy high, turning slowly on the stage so that every fan in the ground could see this trophy that belonged to Liverpool!
His teammates crowded in around him, gathering close, reaching out to touch the trophy, their faces were full of emotion.
Tears stood in the players' eyes as they held each other close.
The celebration at Anfield showed no sign of stopping.
Players carried the trophy as they ran across the pitch, celebrating, reaching out to the fans below, lifting the trophy high again and again, giving back some measure of the love they'd been shown.
The fans kept singing their anthem, waving their red scarves, tears and smiles tangled together on every face, letting every feeling inside them pour out, without holding anything back.
This trophy carried more than a decade of Liverpool's perseverance, carried the love of every Red who had ever stood in these stands, and marked the beginning, officially of a new era for the club!
Quietly, time slipped into May.
The Premier League season drew toward its close, and with the title already secured, Liverpool eased through the rest of their fixtures.
On May 6th, the Reds travelled to face Crystal Palace away, the two sides were trading goals in a match that finished 3-3;
On May 11th, back at Anfield, Liverpool put in a solid performance to beat Newcastle United 2-1.
With that, the Premier League season came to its complete close, the Reds having brought it home in style as champions.
Compared to the seismic impact of winning the title, these last two matches barely stirred a ripple; the team's focus had shifted almost entirely toward conserving energy for the FA Cup final, all their effort was now pointed toward the ultimate showdown at Wembley on May 17th.
On May 17th, Wembley Stadium was packed to capacity.
A red tide swept over this cathedral of football once again, Liverpool fans in their red shirts singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" at the top of their lungs, roaring the team on, hoping the Reds could claim the FA Cup and unlock the glory of a domestic treble this season.
Hull City, for their part, dug in with everything they had, trying to conjure a miracle at Wembley.
But the gap in quality showed itself plainly from the very first whistle.
Klopp sent out his first-choice XI—Julien, Suárez, Gerrard, De Bruyne, and the rest of the club's core, all of them on the pitch.
From the opening whistle, they held the game firmly in their grip.
In attack, Julien was as hot as ever, sniffing out chance after chance in front of goal with that sharp instinct of his; Gerrard orchestrated things calmly from midfield; De Bruyne threaded the whole attack together—the team moved with understanding, wave after wave breaking against Hull's defence.
In the first half, Liverpool established their lead—Suárez met De Bruyne's cross with a header to put the Reds ahead;
Then Gerrard struck from outside the box to make it 2-0, and the Liverpool fans at Wembley erupted into pure joy, their roar was deafening.
Hull City fought back as hard as they could, trying to claw their way back into it.
But Liverpool's defence held like a fortress, and Hull never managed a single real threat on goal.
In the second half, Liverpool kept up the same crushing control, and Julien added the finishing touch with a brilliant goal on the counter, sealing the score at 3-0.
After that, the Reds eased off the pace, comfortably managing the game, giving Hull City no further openings.
The instant the final whistle blew, the red tide at Wembley broke completely loose.
Liverpool's players threw themselves into a wild embrace, cheering, roaring, celebrating the birth of an FA Cup title!
Klopp waved his arms in the air, overcome, and threw himself into his coaching staff's arms.
This season, he had led Liverpool through one obstacle after another—not only claiming the club's first-ever Premier League title, but also lifting the FA Cup, and with the League Cup already won earlier in the season, the Reds had completed a clean sweep of England's domestic treble, a whole new chapter of glory was in the club's history!
Gerrard held the FA Cup trophy high, tears were glinting in his eyes, sharing this hard-won treble with his teammates!
Up in the Wembley stands—the fans' celebration carried on.
"TREBLE! TREBLE!"
This 3-0 win wasn't just the victory of one final—it was proof of Liverpool's new era!
With that, Liverpool's entire season came, officially, to its close.
The glory of the domestic treble lit up Anfield, lit up something deep in the heart of every Liverpool fan.
From their first Premier League title to lifting the FA Cup, from winning the League Cup to being crowned treble champions—this Reds side had proven themselves through sheer performance!
Julien laughed and celebrated along with his teammates, jostling and joking.
Through his performances this season, he'd proven what he was capable of, and made good on the promise he'd made when he first arrived at Liverpool—to work miracles, to bring home more trophies.
The club's entire fixture list had come to its end, but the journey that belonged to him wasn't over yet.
Next month, the 2014 World Cup would kick off.
That was the highest stage in the heart of every footballer alive, glory that nothing else could replace, the platform every player longed to stand on.
As a member of the French national team, he wanted nothing less than to reach the very top!
From France to Liverpool, from a Ligue 1 title and a Europa League trophy to England's domestic treble, he had climbed, step by step, toward something close to perfect.
And the World Cup title was the one gap left in his career that he wanted most to fill—the final target in his pursuit of doing everything, completely, to the very best it could be done.
He looked out at the fans still celebrating in the distance, looked at the teammates who'd fought alongside him, and let a smile cross his face once more.
The final campaign of this season—the World Cup!
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