Behind him, Steven Gerrard stood with his hands tucked into his shorts pockets, observing Julien's interaction with the young fans. His expression was thoughtful, almost wistful.
The Manchester wind carried the continuing chants from the away section, delivering them directly to Gerrard's ears while also imprinting this scene into his memory—Julien surrounded by adoring children, giving away pieces of his performance to fans who'd treasure them forever.
Gerrard remembered being in similar positions during his own early years at Liverpool, those times when he'd been the young player soaking in the love from the Kop, when senior players like Fowler and McManaman had stood behind him, shepherding him through the intensity of playing for this massive club. Back then, he'd been the one being protected, the youngster shielded from excessive pressure by established veterans.
Now he stood at the back, watching Julien receive the adulation, watching him handle the attention with grace. The parallel to his own journey was obvious, but there was something different about Julien—something brighter, more luminous. The kid shone with a light that seemed to outstrip even Gerrard's own glory days.
The thought that had been nagging at him for months reappeared in this moment. Gerrard had worried constantly about what would happen after his retirement, who would carry the weight of being Liverpool's flag-bearer, who could possibly shoulder the responsibility of being this club's beating heart.
The burden was immense, the expectations were crushing. It wasn't a role just anyone could fill.
But tonight, Julien had answered that question with four goals, with ninety minutes of relentless commitment, with this moment of genuine connection to the supporters who represented Liverpool's soul.
Gerrard's thoughts shifted to his remaining time as a player. He understood now what his final mission had to be. During whatever time he had left in his career, he needed to maintain Liverpool's foundation, to hold the line. His job was to protect the club's identity and values while Julien continued developing, to be the steady hand that kept everything stable.
He looked at Julien again, still surrounded by fans, still radiating that infectious energy. The young striker had his whole future ahead of him, limitless potential waiting to be unlocked.
Gerrard stood beside Julien now, shoulder to shoulder with the kid who represented Liverpool's future. Together they faced that wall of red scarves and banners and tear-streaked faces, the supporters who embodied everything this club meant.
Suddenly, Gerrard understood what legacy and tradition actually meant—it was exactly this. One person raises the flag and carries it forward, then another person takes hold of it, and together they march in the same direction, toward the same dreams.
What Gerrard needed to do was simple, really. He just had to shelter Julien from some of the fiercest winds while the youngster found his footing, had to help him establish unshakeable roots in Liverpool's soil, had to give him time and space to grow into the role that was clearly his destiny.
Eventually, the players and supporters had to part ways, no matter how much both sides wanted to prolong the moment.
Old Trafford gradually settled into quietness. The Liverpool fans went out into the Manchester night. The United supporters had long since departed.
Only the stadium itself remained, a century-old monument standing silent witness to yet another chapter in its long history.
In the away dressing room, Liverpool's players were still riding high on adrenaline and triumph. Shouts and laughter echoed off the walls as they celebrated, fully aware that after tonight, their focus would need to shift immediately to the next challenge.
Their match against Sunderland was just three days away, there was barely enough time to recover from this emotional and physical peak.
But tonight? Tonight was for celebration. Tonight, they could be loud and joyful and gloriously unburdened by tomorrow's concerns.
Julien sat on the bench in front of his locker, pulling up his system interface to check his points.
As expected, since the previous victory over United had already awarded significant points, this match had added only twenty more. Still, it was a valuable addition to his accumulating total. The system was consistent if nothing else.
The match at Old Trafford had concluded, but the ripples it would send through English football were only beginning to spread out, touching everything and everyone connected to the game.
Across social media platforms, pundits and legends were already weighing in with their analysis of what they'd witnessed.
Roy Keane, never one to mince words, tweeted his assessment.
"United's defense was torn to shreds tonight, but I have to acknowledge De Rocca's performance was beyond criticism. He didn't score scrappy goals or capitalize on lucky breaks. Every goal demonstrated elite-level finishing ability. That final run was particularly devastating. Maybe this result proves that Moyes isn't the rightful heir to the United manager's position after all."
Ian Rush, one of Liverpool's greatest ever strikers, added his perspective, "I played in fourteen derby matches against United, and I never saw an away player dominate with this kind of authority. Julien's movement reminds me of my own peak years, but his explosive power is even more impressive. Watching him tonight, I knew immediately that Liverpool's tradition has found its next bearer."
The Times' sports section led with a headline that captured the greatness, "The 4-2 victory was an eighteen-year-old's coronation. Julien De Rocca becomes the youngest player ever to score four in a derby, but more importantly, he showed ice-cold composure when his team was down 0-2. This performance itself is more memorable than just the goals—it's the context that makes it legendary."
The tactical analysis website Back of the Net published their breakdown, "De Rocca has completely activated Liverpool's attacking system. He can drop deep to receive possession like Suárez, but he can also make penetrating runs into the box like Fernando Torres in his prime. Gerrard's long passing finally has a precision target. Looking back now, this signing might be the most cost-effective investment Liverpool has made this century."
BBC Sport's commentary team summarized, "The silence at Old Trafford tells you everything you need to know about De Rocca's impact. The home support witnessed the birth of a new legend tonight, and they understood exactly what they were seeing, even as it broke their hearts."
Two hours after the final whistle, news emerged from the post-match press conferences, with both managers' comments making immediate headlines across the football media landscape.
David Moyes stood before the gathered press corps, his expression was showing the heaviness of a man who knew his job was increasingly precarious. When he spoke, his voice was restrained but couldn't quite hide the strain beneath the surface.
"I need to apologize to all Manchester United fans," he began, the words were clearly difficult to force out. "Tonight, we failed to deliver at home, and to be pegged back from 0-2 to losing 4-2 is simply unacceptable. That responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders."
He paused, gathering himself before continuing. "De Rocca produced a phenomenal performance tonight—there's no other way to describe it. Our defensive organization couldn't contain him.
From his first goal, that opportunistic follow-up on the rebound, we were on the back foot. The midfield transitions broke down, our shape got pulled apart, and our attacking play lacked the clinical edge to capitalize on the chances we created. Against top opposition, these deficiencies get brutally exposed, and that's exactly what happened tonight."
When journalists pressed him about the home-and-away double defeat to Liverpool and United's winless record in matches against fellow title contenders since he'd taken charge, Moyes' discomfort was obvious, but he didn't shy away from the question.
"I'm acutely aware of the criticism coming from outside, and I understand the frustration from our supporters. Since taking over at United, we've been working to adapt our tactical system, and the players have been working hard to adjust to new methods.
But clearly, this process has been more challenging than any of us anticipated. Tonight's result demonstrates that Liverpool's cohesion this season is superior to ours. Their attack is more threatening, their defense is more solid, and we need to learn from them while finding solutions to our own problems."
His jaw tightened slightly before he continued, a flicker of defensiveness was appearing across his face.
"I'm not going to avoid the hard questions. Our defensive concentration wasn't where it needed to be, and our final ball in attack lacked precision. These are issues we're going to address specifically in training sessions going forward. The players gave everything until the final whistle tonight—Rooney, Welbeck, they kept trying to create opportunities but football can be unforgiving. When your opponent identifies your weaknesses, you pay the price."
He leaned forward slightly, as if physically pressing into his next words. "I understand the expectations at Manchester United are sky-high. They should be. But this defeat will actually clarify our thinking. We're going to drill down on these mistakes in training, adjust our approach step by step, and work to regain our proper level. I promise the supporters we won't give up. We'll fight to find the form that United deserves, and we'll aim to provide a satisfactory response in our upcoming fixtures."
The words sounded reasonable, professional even, but they rang hollow against the backdrop of United's deteriorating form.
Promises of future improvement couldn't erase the reality of what everyone had witnessed—a team in crisis, directionless and being systematically outplayed by their rivals.
The media response was swift and merciless.
Social media platforms exploded with criticism that made no attempt at thoughtfulness or patience.
"Since Moyes took over, we've lost twice to Liverpool, got hammered by City, couldn't beat Chelsea—we haven't taken a single point off any major rival! These are supposed to be the matches that define a title race! The previous manager left him a squad that won the league comfortably, and Moyes is thoroughly dismantling everything that made us successful!"
"Moyes simply isn't cut out for a club of this stature! He was perfect for Everton—managing mid-table expectations, protecting his little corner of the league table but he has absolutely no idea how to keep Manchester United competitive at the elite level! If we keep him much longer, forget challenging for the title, we'll be fighting just to qualify for the Champions League!"
"When Sir Alex lost matches, he'd look us in the eye and tell us 'We'll win the next one,' and we BELIEVED him! When Moyes loses, he just offers excuses and talks about 'processes' and 'adjustments.' What kind of leadership is that? This isn't the manager we need!"
"Moyes stands on the touchline rubbing his hands together nervously while the match falls apart around him. His substitutions are reactive and slow, and half the time the players he brings on look confused about what they're supposed to be doing! Is this really the standard of management at the world's biggest club?"
The fury from United's fanbase was reaching a crescendo, with each match adding fuel to a fire that seemed ready to consume Moyes' tenure. The goodwill and patience extended to him as Ferguson's chosen successor had been exhausted. Now every tactical decision, every team selection, every interview was being scrutinized and found inadequate.
While Manchester was drowning in accusations, Liverpool's camp presented an intensely different picture on the surface. But beneath the celebrations, manager Brendan Rodgers was dealing with his own challenges, ones his players and the jubilant supporters couldn't see.
Before the press conference, David Dein had pulled Rodgers aside for what was ostensibly a private conversation about the match. But the tone had been anything but congratulatory.
"What exactly were we playing for the first sixty minutes?" David had asked, his voice was calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.
"The midfield was bypassed repeatedly. Our build-up play consisted of hoofing long balls forward and hoping something stuck. If it wasn't for Julien pulling miracles out of thin air, we'd be on the team bus right now analyzing a defeat instead of celebrating. I need to see your tactical system working, Brendan. Not individual heroics saving your hide."
The words had stung, partly because there was uncomfortable truth in them. However, David hadn't finished yet then.
"Fans see Julien running seventy meters to score the winner, see him scoring four brilliant goals, and they think everything's wonderful. Nobody's asking why we needed those individual moments of genius in the first place.
Liverpool needs tactical victories, not performances where we're carried by one player. If your approach is just 'give it to the eighteen-year-old and let him figure it out,' then frankly, there are plenty of people who could do your job."
The message was extremely explicit. Rodgers was being put on notice.
One more string of performances like the first hour of this match, and his position would come under serious threat, regardless of results. The club management wanted to see coherent football, a functioning system, tactical preparation that delivered consistency. They weren't going to accept a reliance on individual brilliance as sustainable management.
So, when Rodgers faced the media, his demeanor was particularly calm.
Yes, they'd won. Yes, they'd beaten United at Old Trafford. But his words were carefully restrained, almost defensive.
"Securing victory at Old Trafford in a derby match is significant for the squad and for our supporters," he began, his tone was professional and somewhat distant. "Especially coming from 0-2 down to win 4-2—the resilience the players showed in that difficult period deserves recognition."
He paused intentionally before continuing, and his next words carried a different weight.
"However, we need to maintain perspective. The first sixty minutes of tonight's match revealed several tactical execution problems that we cannot ignore simply because the final result was positive.
Our midfield connectivity was poor. Facing United's high press, our passing efficiency dropped intensely, and we allowed them to advance into dangerous positions far too easily. That's not the standard we've been working toward in training."
Rodgers leaned forward slightly, his expression was serious. "Victory is a starting point, not a destination. We can't allow a good result to blind us to the process issues that could have cost us tonight. Julien's performance was outstanding—his positioning sense, his movement off the ball, his finishing—all of it showcased the natural talent he possesses. Four goals is a just reward for his effort and ability."
He let that acknowledgment hang for a moment before shifting focus.
"But moving forward, our priority has to be dissecting this match footage in detail. The small moments, the transitions, the defensive organization—those details determine whether we can maintain consistency throughout a season, or whether we're just relying on occasional explosions of individual quality.
The Premier League campaign is a marathon, not a sprint. Every opponent presents different challenges, and we've got substantial work ahead to keep improving."
His tone became even more cautious.
"This victory should absolutely give the team confidence, there's value in knowing you can come back from two goals down in hostile territory. But the more important thing is identifying our weaknesses and addressing them systematically. Liverpool's objective is continuous improvement, not resting on the laurels of a single good result, however impressive it might look from the outside."
To most observers, this sounded like admirable humility from a manager keeping his players grounded despite a famous victory. The restrained response was interpreted as maturity and professionalism.
But Rodgers knew the real audience for those words. He was speaking directly to David Dein and the other decision-makers at Liverpool, demonstrating that he understood the message that had been delivered.
He was acknowledging the problems, committing to tactical refinement, showing he grasped that individual brilliance couldn't be his game plan going forward.
The pressure on his shoulders was immense, perhaps more than any outsider realized.
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