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It was the day after Liverpool’s game against Inter Milan, where they had lost but still went through thanks to a positive aggregate score. Klopp had organized a training session the day after, and arrived at Kirkby with a large briefcase, full of notes and plans.
“Boys!” Klopp called out as he stepped through the door. “I’m here!”
The German heard footsteps pounding on the ground, and wondered who it was. It turned out the footsteps belonged to Milner, Henderson and Florrie.
“Boss!” Florrie squealed. She was about to rocket straight into the briefcase, but fortunately Klopp closed the door before Florrie could run out of the training ground.
“Sneaky minion,” Klopp remarked, smiling as Florrie jumped around him. “Hello, you two. Don’t think I forgot you.”
Henderson rolled his eyes. “Soon you’ll have to start saying ‘boys and girls’. It makes sense, especially now that Florrie’s with us.”
“Up! Up!” Florrie begged Milner. “Papi, up!”
Milner smirked as Florrie trapped his legs in her arms. “Well, boss, it took you long enough to arrive here. With the two agencies of chaos in here, all we’ve had is pranks for two hours.”
Klopp raised an eyebrow. There was only one duo of chaos in Liverpool, and that was Robertson and Alexander-Arnold. Another duo? That didn’t sound right.
“Apparently, Kostas is feeling a bit inspired by Robbo’s influence here,” Milner explained as he pried Florrie off his legs and picked her up. “So he grabbed Joel and now the two are causing mayhem all over Kirkby.”
“Today he and Joel spread burrs all over Mo’s chair,” Henderson added. “And then they poured chili sauce into Robbo’s food. It was hilarious!”
“Well, now.” Klopp, Henderson and Milner proceeded to make their way to the training ground. “As long as Kostas is okay, I think we could deal with those two. Kostas doesn’t get enough sleep to function as a full agent of chaos, anyways!”
“You sly geriatric,” Milner teased.
The three laughed at the joke, heading inside.
Klopp stepped onto the training grounds, the crisp breeze almost blowing his hat off. It ruffled his hair--
Hold on. Klopp tapped his head, then realized. His hat was missing!
His initial thought was that the wind blew it. So he let a leaf blow away and followed the wind--past the orange cones, over the sacks of balls, all the way to the goal nets, where Alisson was strapping on his gloves. But Klopp’s hat wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Alisson, meanwhile, had just noticed Klopp was there. He also noticed that something very important that usually came with Klopp wasn’t there…his hat.
“Boss?” Alisson couldn’t help but laugh. “Where did your hat go? You ditched the glasses last summer, now you’re going hatless?”
“No Alisson, I just can’t seem to find it. Did you see it blowing in the wind?”
“Uh, no.” Alisson ran a gloved hand through his hair. “Funny thing--I’ve lost two things today.”
“You don’t say. What are they?”
Ramses shrugged. “Two things called Kostas and Joel. They were here when I came and now they disappeared. I can’t find them anywhere.”
*
Little did they know that on the other side of the training ground, Matip and Tsimikas were proudly flaunting the hat in the fullbacks’ faces, laughing about how funny it was.
“It was…so good!” Matip roared. “The boss was just standing there and…” He and Tsimikas high-fived. “Shazam!”
“Why’re you trying to take us over, mate?” Robertson dramatically swooned, Alexander-Arnold having to catch him. “You could have at least told us! Now you’re going to leave us all alone!”
“Yeah, we were always the initators of chaos.” Alexander-Arnold glared at the two. “Now you’ve taken over.”
“We’re not trying to take over,” Matip protested. “We just like jokes. And I found my partner.”
Robertson righted himself, staring Matip square in the eyes. “Aren’t you the weird tinfoil-hat wearing guy around here, whose predictions are creepily true sometimes? The one who comes up with unexpected moments of awesome, saves your skins when nobody expects it, and then lays low?”
“Kostas brought out a new side in me.” Matip smiled at Tsimikas, who just shrugged with his trademark lopsided grin. “Now I’m Joel Matip, Agent of Yaounde.”
“And I,” said Tsimikas, adopting a 50’s movie accent, “am Kostas Tsimikas, Royal Agent of Athens.”
“And we make a good team, don’t we?” Matip held up his hand for a high-five, which Tsimikas was more than happy to take.
“Yeah, we do.” Tsimikas nodded. “And I’m more than happy to have a good teammate like you.”
“Joel! Kostas!”
“Florrie!” Matip beamed as Florrie ran into the room. “What’re you up to?”
“Klopp wants you and Kostas in his office.” Florrie grinned innocently, pointing to the hat in their hands. “He says you’re grounded.”