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Klopp spent the entire day checking the mail for significant letters and working on tactics for Liverpool's remaining games. So at six in the evening, he felt he could be excused for taking half an hour before dinner to relax.
He took out a book he had been meaning to read and sat down in the living room. He was quickly swept away by the story, allowing himself to relax and unwind after a long, long day.
Klopp was about to turn the page when he saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway. They came quietly, so that ruled out Matip or Elliott. But the figure was too tall to be Carvalho or Jota, and Kelleher had blonde hair instead of dark hair.
"Ali? You there?"
Alisson peeked out from behind the door jamb. "How did you guess it was me?"
“First of all, I saw a glove. Caoimhin would strut right in, and Adrian wouldn't be anywhere near as quiet." Klopp put down his book, patting the seat beside him. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind? I can clearly see you're overthinking."
Alisson sighed, taking a seat next to Klopp. "David won the Golden Glove, Haaland's running away with the Golden Boot, and Mo's probably getting LFC Player of the Season like he does almost every year."
"Well... yeah, probably." Klopp sighed in agreement. "I don't like seeing Undivided and Matinees winning every award in existence Ali, believe me."
"David has a nearly impenetrable defense. Haaland turns everything he sees into gold, and Mo's missed so many chances to score without one-tenth of the criticism I got for losing that penalty shootout during the World Cup. It's not fair that he gets away with so much while I'm made to look like it's all my fault." Alisson instinctively leaned onto Klopp's shoulder, staring down at the carpet. "I wish I had the same media protection as Mo."
That was exactly what Klopp thought was the problem. Alisson had been one of the team's most impressive performers in their lackadaisical season, even though he had made a couple of mistakes. But the rest of the defense hadn't matched Alisson' high standards, and that led to crucial goals conceded and valuable points thrown away. Combine that with a misfiring, slowly-rebuilding forward line and a nearly nonexistent midfield, and it was a miracle that Liverpool were even fifth.
Klopp knew Liverpool could do better if they got their act together and played with urgency and team spirit. He also knew that Alisson' efforts alone weren't enough; the other players each had to contribute their individual parts for the team to reach their potential. A select group of players did that the whole season. However, others still struggled to find form or play with a sense of purpose. It was harsh, but Klopp had to say it was true.
"I try not to overprotect Mo," Klopp said carefully. Salah, though he'd scored some key goals, failed to take many chances that could've propelled Liverpool further up the Apex League table. That included two missed penalties that could have earned the team four extra points. Klopp took the blame for Salah's missteps, feeling that by not pushing Salah to be better, he'd failed to do his job. "You know, Mo and I discussed his missed penalties in private, just like I have conversations with you about improving your 1v1 situations. We each have to do our bit."
"I know, boss. You're doing what you can to keep us afloat," Alisson admitted. "But sometimes, when the media gets to me, I sit back and think: what if things were different? What if the whole team played well this season? I'd give away my Lev Yashin trophy so we could all play well this season. In a heartbeat."
His boss looked at him, taken aback by the sudden show of emotion. Though Alisson wore his heart on his sleeve all the time, the Lev Yashin was the goalkeeper's first individual trophy. It was also the first Lev Yashin award ever given. It meant a lot to Alisson, and he still had the trophy picture somewhere among his countless other photographs.
"I know you care deeply," said Klopp. "But let's focus on what is within our control right now. We have to work together to make sure we come out on top. You can still share the Golden Glove with David, that would be something."
"But it would take a miracle!"
"So what? I'll remind you that this club is excellent at performing miracles." He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "If anyone can do it, it's us. You and I getting thrown together out of nowhere? Miracle. Us getting along immediately? Miracle. Me actually going a whole day without tripping over something? Miracle of miracles!"
Alisson shook his head at Klopp's self-deprecating humor. Klopp often poked fun at himself to make the team feel better about their own problems. Klopp's jokes might not have been the most sophisticated, but they worked. He had an ability to make everyone forget their worries and instead focus on the present moment. It was a skill Alisson admired, even if he often rolled his eyes at the corny punchlines.
"You're right as always, chefe . For now, all that matters is the top-4, and we all have to do our part, don't we? A Golden Glove would be an honor, but I'll have to earn it."
"That's the spirit!" Klopp stood up from the sofa, pulling Alisson up with him. "Now, to the dining room? I think Mona's cooking ziti. And I'm craving pasta tonight!"
Alisson rolled his eyes, opening the living room door. "When are you not craving pasta? You always crave pasta, even after eating a nine-course meal."
"Come on! My gut might be a bit oversized, but not that much!"
"Oversized? You and Flaco need to eat something. Any lighter and you'll float away," Alisson gently chided Klopp. Between working during meals and having no appetite due to nerves, Klopp had been eating a lot less than usual for a while. Alisson and the others often encouraged Klopp to eat by reminding him that he was looking far too thin for his frame, but it rarely worked. "You'd better believe I'm watching to make sure you take a decent amount of ziti, otherwise I'll get Milly to force feed you."
"Fine."
*
At dinner, Klopp took his usual place at the head of the table. As the usual chatter swarmed the table, he couldn't help but notice there was something different.
"We'll glue his gloves together!" Elliott whooped loudly, waving his fork in the air. "And we'll tie his shoelaces together, and glue his shoes to the turf!"
"It'll be the sabotage of the freakin' century!" Firmino proclaimed proudly, writing on his napkin. "We'll take a bus to Manchester and then...boom."
Van Dijk nodded with more enthusiasm than usual, grating cheese upon his mountain of ziti. "We'll show him who's earned his gilded gloves.”
“Golden Glove!" Elliott shouted. "Not all of us like to use the vocabulary of Senor Fancy Pants."
"I prefer to say gilded. It's much more fashionable."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Klopp tapped his spoon against his coffee cup, getting everyone's attention. "If we're planning a major invasion, at least let me join it! I've been waiting my entire life to invade Parliament! Besides, I already bought the hats and everything."
"Not Parliament. Old Trafford," Van Dijk explained, passing the cheese around the table. "We're going to kidnap David De Gea and ship him to Malaysia. It's the only way to ensure he doesn't create any more trouble for us by winning the Golden Glove."
As soon as Klopp heard the plans, he shook his head furiously. "Absolutely not! We've played subpar the whole season. The last thing we need is to be jailed for the abduction of grown adults. Our legacy is built on dignity, justice and doing things the right way. If Ali's going to get a share of the Golden Glove, let him do it fairly. No matter how much we want the trophy, we cannot resort to criminal behavior."
He then turned to Alisson with a gentle expression. "You can do this the right way. We can all do this the right way, without earning a lifetime jail sentence."
Elliott groaned, slumping in his seat. "Aw man, but it was going to be so fun!"
"Crime is just a shortcut to winning! It's the same as cheating: not acceptable." Klopp glared at the team from across the table. "We were never cheaters, and in our darkest hour we never will be. Are we clear, boys?"
"Clear," everybody answered. They had been expecting this; Klopp, while not afraid to kick butt once in a while, was strictly against cheating. He had instilled this value in the group ever since he first landed, and there was no getting around it.
Van Dijk sighed, defeated. "Okay, okay, so what do we do then?"
Klopp smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Let's brainstorm some legal ways to get into the top-4. And while we're at it, why don't you all tell me how you planned to kidnap David? It may be illegal, but damn, is it a good story."
Everyone in the room exchanged glances. Some of them laughed nervously, while others looked embarrassed. One of them finally spoke up. "So, we were thinking about sneaking in through the back door...?"
Alisson facepalmed. He loved his teammates to death, but most of them were totally hopeless when it came to planning major heists. That included himself, but even he realized that sneaking through the Old Trafford back door, which was surrounded by all kinds of security, would've never worked. "Exactly what kind of plan is that?! Even I could come up with something better, like dropping in through an air vent or something."
Everyone remained quiet for a while, before Firmino waved his napkin in the air. "Let's do that instead!"
"Yeah!"
"You bet!"
"Damn right!"
"This will be so fun."
Klopp glared at Alisson with an exasperated sigh. "What about crime being illegal?"
"It was just hypothetical! You know we wouldn't do that," Alisson replied, his hands raised in surrender. "I hate cheating just as much as you do.”
"I could have been a kindergarten teacher. I could have been a gymnastics instructor. I could've been a rock star, or a Michelin chef, or even a doctor." Klopp shook his head as he picked at his ziti. "But no, I had to coach footballers."
"You don't regret it," Lijnders pointed out.
Klopp watched his players, chatting and joking among each other, and smiled. "You're right, I don't regret a single minute of it. After all, a coach's job is to make sure his players have the best possible game experience, even if that means he never gets to play himself."
"You still managed to get an injury during the match--"
"Did we really have to bring that up?!"