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James Milner was very good at finding people’s faults. Not that he actively seeked them out—Milner simply happened to be a fine observer of people, especially his teammates.
One of those people was Jordan Henderson, the captain. Milner had come to Liverpool as soon as Henderson inherited the captaincy from Gerrard, and he was his vice-captain from then on. Henderson was brave, protective and definitely had a loud voice. He was also good at finding people’s faults, and he would use that to push his teammates towards being better.
All in all, Henderson was a constructive person who didn’t berate his teammates. So Milner nearly collapsed when he spotted the skipper screaming at a confused and annoyed Alisson.
Milner facepalmed in disgust as he watched the two exchange words. While Alisson had his downsides too, getting into fights was not one of them. So Milner was one hundred percent sure that Henderson had begun the spat—as was Firmino.
“If this is about that play, Ali had nothing to do with it!” Firmino ranted. Just like his compatriot in lilac, Firmino was slow to anger. “It was Joel who headed the ball over. No offense, Joel.”
Matip flashed a thumbs-up in response.
The fight only lasted a few seconds. Milner wished the end of the game had come that fast too, because once those match cameras turned off he would be having words with Henderson. But before he could get to the captain, Milner found Alisson first.
“What the hell happened back there?” Milner and Alisson didn’t talk often, but they were on friendly enough terms; all the Liverpudlians were at least amicable with each other. “Hendo looked proper furious.”
“I-I don’t know, I swear!” Alisson quickly glanced up at the stars, as if seeking assistance. Thankfully he didn’t seem mad, but he was definitely upset, panicked even. “I don’t get it. Hendo just screamed at me about that build up there, I don’t know what happened!”
“Whoa, calm down laddie. I’m not accusing you of anything.” Milner mentally smacked himself for forgetting how anxious Alisson could become, especially over fights within the team. “You get yourself to Bobby or the gaffer, okay? Jordan needs a talking to and I’ll be giving it to him. Tell Virgil I said hi.”
A slight smile crept onto Alisson at the mention of Van Dijk. The Dutch defender had traveled with them but got sick at the last minute, prompting his replacement. He was currently in the hotel, resting. “I will.”
Satisfied at his handiwork, Milner trooped down the tunnel to wait for Henderson. He picked up his bag from the locker room and took out a chalkboard and piece of chalk, then a fluffy blue blanket patterned with white sheep.
Henderson turned up later than usual, looking down at his feet. Milner guessed their manager had had a word with him as well, but it wasn’t going to be anything like this.
“Jordan.” Milner’s tone was firm, but not raised, and calm as well. He pointed to the bench in front of him, beckoning Henderson over. “Come here, please.”
Henderson groaned, plonking himself on the bench. “Before you say anything James…”
“That’s ‘sir’ to you laddie, and you will speak when you’re told since your mouth is what got you into this.” Milner didn’t pace across the room as he usually did when giving a speech, but he stood in front of Henderson with his arms crossed. “From what I heard, you were yelling at your teammate when he didn’t do anything wrong. Am I right?”
“Something was just waiting to happen,” Henderson argued, crossing his arms as well. “Did you see the way Alisson was passing some of those balls? Anything could’ve gone wrong, and as the captain it was my duty to tell him off.”
“Captain or no, you could’ve done it better,” Milner insisted. “If you wanted to call Ali out for his passing, do it after he actually performs one of those moves! I won’t deny that Ali’s passing style makes me sweat sometimes, but this guy’s been saving our butts the whole season. Eleven clean sheets with the way we’ve been playing, that’s a miracle. He’s only two clean sheets behind the top in the Golden Glove.”
Henderson scowled at the reminder. “He has to learn to take criticism better—”
“What do you mean, take criticism better? People criticized him and he improved!” Milner exclaimed. “Sure, he doubts himself once in a while, but that’s normal. And that brings us to the fact that you yelled in his face! Do you not remember that he already struggles with anxiety?! He’s already worried about Virg being sick, you could’ve unnerved him back there! And last time I checked, your performance wasn’t too good either, Jordan. Certainly not befitting of the armband. Gerrard would highly disapprove, wouldn’t he?”
Henderson’s angry stubbornness finally seemed to subside, as he had the grace to bow his head. “I guess I kind of took my anger out on him.”
Milner nodded, taking the chalkboard and chalk from behind his back. “I’m glad you admitted that to me. Now I’d like you to write ‘I will not take my anger out on my teammates’ twenty times on this board. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this and while you had a point the last few times, this incident is inexcusable considering the circumstances.”
Henderson stared at the slate and chalk pen like it was Gary Neville. “Like a schoolchild?”
“Well, taking your anger out on your teammates is childish, so that’s what you’ll be doing.” Milner pointed towards his own locker in the corner. “Twenty lines, neatly written. And then you’re going to apologize to Ali for what you did. He might’ve taken a few risks but that’s not an excuse.”
Despite his situation, Henderson chuckled to himself, walking towards the board. “That’s what the boss said, too.”
Milner rolled his eyes. “Are we surprised? Write those lines Jordan, and make it quick unless you want our teammates to find out what’s going on.”
“Y-yes sir,” Henderson spluttered quickly, facing the corner wall as he’d been told.
*
Later on, Milner and Henderson were walking through the hallways so Henderson could stretch his legs after sitting cross-legged on the bench for so long. The skipper had the blue blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, and he held Milner’s hand—which he grasped even tighter upon seeing Alisson and Firmino coming their way.
“Milly, they’re coming!”
“Shh, lad, and remember what I told you.” Milner waved to Alisson, getting his attention. “Hey, Ali! Hendo has something to tell you.”
“Oh, what is it?” Alisson walked towards them, although he seemed slightly hesitant upon spotting Henderson.
“Well…” Henderson trailed off. Then he cleared his throat, staring Alisson straight in the eye. “I want to apologize for being a jerk back there. I’ve not been playing well and I took it out on you. You’ve been saving our lives and…I’m sorry.”
Before Henderson could even move any further, Alisson engulfed him in an embrace, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. “It’s okay. My passing was risky anyways, you had a point there.”
Henderson shook his head, prying himself away from Alisson. “Still, no excuse for that fight back there. Shake hands on it?”
The two shook hands with a broad grin before hugging again. Milner watched on, glad for his teammates’ upsides. No matter what happened, Henderson always admitted when he was wrong—eventually—and Alisson couldn’t hold a grudge if his life depended on it.