Julien had barely returned to his apartment after training when his phone began vibrating on the kitchen counter.
He glanced at the screen and saw a familiar name flashing there, bringing an immediate smile to his face. He swiped to answer, but before he could even say hello, a warm, recognizable voice came through the speaker with enthusiasm.
"So, kid, you had quite the party at Old Trafford last night, didn't you?"
"Zizou? You watched the match?" Julien tossed his training bag onto the sofa and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table, taking a bite as he settled into the conversation.
His tone was relaxed, and friendly. "I thought you'd be too busy observing Real Madrid's training sessions."
"Madrid's training is nowhere near as entertaining as your four-goal performance," Zidane replied with amusement. "I watched the live broadcast last night. Would have called immediately afterward, but it was too late in Madrid by the time the match finished. I have to say, you played exceptionally well. Better than I was at your age, without question."
The compliment caught Julien slightly off guard, and he felt a flush of embarrassment warming his cheeks. "It was decent, I suppose. Still plenty of room for improvement."
"Don't give me that false modesty routine." Zidane's laugh came through clearly, then his tone shifted toward something more serious.
"I spoke with some contacts in France this morning. They're saying you're very likely to make the twenty-three-player Ballon d'Or candidate list when it's announced next month. The information is reliable—your performances in crucial matches have made certain that everyone in football remembers your name."
Julien wanted to deflect again with: "It's too early for that," but Zidane interrupted before he could get the words out.
"I know what you're thinking, but you need to understand something important. The French national team needs a young player who can carry responsibility. Franck is aging—this year represents his final realistic chance at the Ballon d'Or. After him, you're the one who has to lead French football into its next era. That responsibility is coming whether you feel ready or not."
Julien knew the weight behind those words, and he responded softly. "I understand. I'll remember that."
This was one of the qualities Julien most appreciated about Zidane who had never been excessive or acted superior despite his status as arguably the greatest French player of all time. Instead, he spoke to Julien like an equal, like a friend giving guidance rather than a mentor dispensing wisdom from a higher position.
The conversation shifted as Zidane brought up the transfer speculation that had been swirling in the media lately, rumors linking Julien with moves to various elite clubs across Europe.
Zidane's perspective was typically thoughtful and considered.
"Listen," he said with the accumulated wisdom of someone who'd crossed the complexities of top-level football throughout his career.
"It's easy to join an already-dominant team and add another trophy to their collection. That's taking the well-paved road. But bringing a club like Liverpool back to prominence? Taking a team with genuine history and prestige that's fallen from grace, and lifting them back to where they belong? That's what truly demonstrates your quality as a player. That's the kind of achievement that defines a legacy."
When they finally ended the call, Julien found himself smiling again, his mind was churning through everything Zidane had said. He had a way of offering perspective that cut through the noise and confusion that often surrounded young players in the spotlight.
He knew he didn't need to rush toward proving anything to anyone. One step at a time would be sufficient.
The journey itself mattered as much as the destination.
His thoughts turned to this year's Ballon d'Or race, and his insider knowledge of how events would unfold. There would be some controversial irregularities in the voting process, but none of it would directly affect him personally. He wasn't a serious contender yet, regardless of what the media might say.
If the 2010 Ballon d'Or had been questioned primarily because of rule changes and voting system modifications, the 2013 edition would become controversial for entirely different reasons—murky external factors and behind-the-scenes directions that left many observers unsatisfied with the final result.
Julien knew the ultimate outcome.
Cristiano Ronaldo would break Messi's streak of four consecutive wins, claiming his second Ballon d'Or. Nobody could dispute Ronaldo's talent or his standing as one of football's all-time greats, but examining his 2013 season objectively revealed that his overall body of work didn't quite match Franck Ribéry's achievements.
Real Madrid had ended the season empty-handed across all four major competitions. Ronaldo's individual haul consisted of a single Champions League Golden Boot award—impressive, certainly, but hardly comprehensive.
Meanwhile, Ribéry had experienced the most glorious season of his professional career. Bayern Munich had captured the 2012-13 Champions League, Bundesliga, and German Cup—the treble, football's holy grail. They'd added the UEFA Super Cup to make it four trophies in total.
On an individual level, Ribéry had been Bayern's undisputed superstar that season, collecting the UEFA Best Player in Europe award, Bundesliga Player of the Year, and the Bundesliga assists title. His performances had been consistently brilliant throughout the campaign.
With the French national team, he'd excelled alongside Julien himself, helping France secure first place in their World Cup qualifying group despite facing defending champions Spain in a group everyone had expected La Roja to dominate.
France had qualified for the World Cup finals with relative comfort in the end.
Given all those accomplishments, the fact that Ribéry ultimately lost the Ballon d'Or to Ronaldo by a substantial margin had inevitably generated significant skepticism and controversy. The 2013 edition would be remembered alongside 2010 as one of the most disputed Ballon d'Or decisions in the award's history.
But none of this directly concerned Julien at present. He was a supporting character in this particular drama, not a central figure. His time would come, but it hadn't arrived yet, and he was comfortable with that reality.
He finished his evening routine, washing up and preparing for bed.
Tomorrow would bring another day of training. Rest now, work hard tomorrow, keep progressing steadily forward.
That was the approach that made sense to him.
While Julien was settling into sleep, the coaching office at Melwood Training Centre remained lit. Inside, the cold blue light from a computer monitor casted shadows across Brendan Rodgers' face as he hunched over his desk.
Tactical notebooks lay spread before him, their pages were covered in diagrams and annotations. The pen cap sat unscrewed beside them. His coffee mug held liquid that had long since gone cold and bitter, but he barely noticed. His attention remained fixed on the screen, where match footage from the Manchester United derby played on an endless loop.
The progress bar at the bottom of the video player showed wear from his mouse cursor dragging it backward and forward, backward and forward, examining the same sequences from multiple angles. The clicking sounds filled the office silence like a metronome marking time.
Rodgers suddenly poked the pause button with his index finger.
The video froze on a frame showing United's third major attack into Liverpool's defensive third. Lucas Leiva stood at the top of the penalty arc, trying to turn and distribute the ball forward.
A United player closed him down immediately, winning possession, and the red-shirted attackers surged forward on the counterattack. Only Kolo Touré's timely recovery run prevented what could easily have been another goal conceded.
Rodgers leaned closer to the monitor, studying Lucas's positioning with a deepening frown. Something about the body shape wasn't quite right, the angles were slightly off.
He grabbed the mouse and dragged the progress bar back roughly ten minutes, locating the moment when he'd made his substitution, bringing on N'Golo Kanté to replace Lucas. The tactical shift that had helped stabilize Liverpool's midfield in the final third of the match.
On screen, Kanté entered the pitch and immediately made his presence felt. Rather than simply occupying space, he actively positioned himself to intercept United's passing lanes, forcing their midfielders to hold the ball longer than they wanted, disrupting their rhythm.
On first viewing during the live match, Kanté's contribution might have seemed subtle, almost invisible.
But Rodgers replayed this segment three consecutive times, pausing frequently to examine specific moments in detail. With each viewing, the pattern became clearer and more significant.
When Lucas had been on the pitch, United's forwards and attacking midfielders had made diagonal runs that consistently caught him half a step too slow to respond. He was always reacting rather than anticipating, arriving at defensive positions fractionally too late.
Those small delays created gaps in Liverpool's midfield protection that United had repeatedly exploited.
After Kanté's introduction, the dynamics changed deeply.
Even when defending near the penalty area's edge, Kante could track back with astonishing speed. More importantly, his defensive coverage area was remarkably large. Kanté used constant movement and exceptional reading of the game to position himself directly in United's passing lanes, forcing them to choose less dangerous options or hold possession while Liverpool's defense could reorganize.
Rodgers opened two video windows side by side on his screen, displaying Lucas's defending in one and Kanté's in the other.
The contrast was stark when viewed simultaneously.
The clock in the lower right corner of his computer showed one in the morning. Rodgers rubbed his tired, burning eyes and clicked to open another segment of footage.
This clip showed Kanté's crucial defensive intervention in the eighty-fifth minute.
A United player had driven forward from the right flank, bearing down on Liverpool's penalty area with dangerous intent. Just as the attacker prepared to enter the box, Kanté appeared from a diagonal angle behind him, using his body to shield the ball while simultaneously poking it away to a teammate with his outstretched foot.
The entire sequence was executed perfectly, there was no foul committed, yet the danger was completely neutralized.
Rodgers closed his tactical notebook with a decisive snap and picked up his cold coffee, forcing down a swallow despite the bitter taste. The unpleasant flavor had barely registered. His mind was already working through implications and possibilities.
David Dein's words from after the match continued echoing in his memory like an unwelcome catchphrase. "We need to see your tactical system."
Finding Kanté recognizing his potential and understanding how to utilize him properly might be the first step in proving he could build something sustainable at Liverpool, something that didn't rely entirely on individual moments of brilliance from talented players.
He needed to make changes to his approach.
The evidence was right there on the screen in front of him. Kanté represented a solution to problems that had been plaguing Liverpool's midfield all season. Now he just needed to have the courage to implement that solution fully, even if it meant making difficult decisions about established players.
Rodgers finally shut down his computer and gathered his papers.
Time continued its march forward.
The Manchester derby's impact rippled through English football, generating endless discussion and analysis in the media. But most supporters had already redirected their attention toward the next round of fixtures. The Premier League season waited for no one, showed mercy to no team regardless of recent results.
For David Moyes, the pressure had become almost unbearable. He desperately needed a victory to silence the growing chorus of criticism, to prove that his appointment as Sir Alex Ferguson's successor hadn't been the catastrophic mistake many were beginning to say out loud.
West Bromwich Albion not exactly a powerhouse, certainly a team United should be capable of defeating represented exactly the kind of opponent Moyes needed.
Better yet, the match would be played at Old Trafford, giving United every possible advantage.
Home crowd, familiar surroundings, the weight of history and tradition all working in their favor.
Time, place, and circumstance aligned perfectly for United to collect three points and ease some of the rising pressure on their stressed manager.
Moyes had been bullish in his pre-match comments, promising the United fans that his team would deliver the victory they deserved, that they'd show proper Manchester United quality against inferior opposition.
Liverpool supporters, meanwhile, had largely stopped paying attention to United's struggles. Their focus had shifted entirely toward their own team's continuing success story and the challenges that lay ahead on their own path.
Liverpool's sixth league fixture of the season would see them travel to face Sunderland at the Stadium of Light. On paper, this looked like another opportunity to collect maximum points and extend their position at the top of the table.
Sunderland had failed to win any of their opening five matches. The pressure had become so intense that the club had already sacked their manager, leaving them in disorder at exactly the wrong moment to face the league's form team.
This was precisely the kind of opponent that should present few problems for a Liverpool side brimming with confidence and attacking quality. Sunderland looked vulnerable, disorganized, and there for the taking.
The club's recent history told a story of steady decline from their glory years.
After finishing seventh in the 2000-01 season their last genuinely successful campaign, Sunderland had achieved a top-ten finish only once, back in 2010-11. They'd spent most of the intervening years fighting relegation battles, struggling to maintain their Premier League status year after year.
The previous season had followed a familiar pattern.
After legendary manager Martin O'Neill took charge midway through the campaign, Sunderland had gradually pulled away from the relegation zone, eventually finishing thirteenth.
Despite O'Neill's excellent track record at previous clubs like Leicester City and Aston Villa, his time at Sunderland had been marked by increasingly disappointing results. The club had tried to back him with transfer funds during the summer window, attempting to give him the tools he'd requested to build a competitive squad. But performances had continued deteriorating rather than improving.
The primary problem had been O'Neill's overly conservative tactical approach. His defensive setup had become predictable, easily decoded by opposing teams. If Sunderland hadn't made the difficult decision to change managers when they did, relegation would almost certainly have followed.
Paolo Di Canio had replaced O'Neill in the second half of last season, bringing Italian passion and tactical ideas to the Stadium of Light.
Under the controversial manager's guidance, Sunderland had scraped together two crucial victories that ultimately kept them in the Premier League by the narrowest of margins—finishing fourth from bottom, just three points clear of the relegation zone.
It had been uncomfortably close to disaster.
However, this season had started even worse under Di Canio.
One draw and four defeats from five matches had proven unsustainable, and the Italian had been dismissed despite his previous success in keeping Sunderland up. The club simply couldn't afford to wait any longer hoping results would improve.
So now Sunderland would face league leaders Liverpool with assistant coach Kevin Ball serving as caretaker manager, it was hardly ideal circumstances for trying to contain one of the Premier League's most potent attacking forces.
In his pre-match press conference, Ball had been remarkably candid about the challenge facing his team.
"Liverpool are absolutely the standout team in the Premier League this season. The famous Reds have returned to something approaching their best. Liverpool's position at the top of the table is completely deserved—they're not there because of one explosive performance or a lucky run of results. They maintain dangerous attacking threat for the full ninety minutes of every match. Their consistency is what makes them so formidable."
He'd paused, seeming to gather himself before addressing the elephant in the room.
"For us, the biggest challenge is quite simple really—how do we stop De Rocca? I'll be honest, it looks like an impossible task from where I'm sitting. I'm sure everyone here is familiar with what this young player has demonstrated over the past month or so. The talent he's shown has been genuinely frightening in its precocity and consistency."
Ball had shaken his head slightly. "I don't want to admit this before we've even kicked off, but I feel I have to be realistic.
The likely deciding factor in this match will be whether we can contain De Rocca.
If we manage to stop him and that's an enormous 'if'—then we'll have a chance to take something from the game, maybe even steal a point. But if we can't..."
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