Chapter Text
The thing about having Jurgen Klopp as a manager was that you never knew what you were gonna get. Of course, sometimes you knew, but let’s just say what was coming next was always a popular guessing game. For example, on the way to Wembley, the Liverpudlians tried to guess what their boss would do if they won.
“The boss would surely fist-pump,” Van Dijk stated. “For sure.”
“Mate, that’s obvious!” Robertson brought out the dice. “Alright, who’s betting the boss will sing?”
Minamino put his hands up, while the others shot him weird looks.
“What the--” Alexander-Arnold couldn’t control his laughter. “Taki! The boss doesn’t sing as a general rule!”
“And,” Milner rolled his eyes, “that rule is in place for a reason. Except in certain cases.”
Minamino felt a hot blush rise as he tried to hide it from his teammates. “Um…”
“Yeah.” Jota quickly changed the subject. “Joel, your turn. The boss will do what?”
Matip placed a poorly-made tin foil hat on his head, waving his hands as if he was seeing a vision in a crystal ball. “The boss…will dance.”
Quiet, quiet. Then almost everyone burst into laughter.
“Dance?” Even Milner couldn’t believe it. “Joel, that’s crazy! The boss has the common sense not to dance! Remember when Robbo filmed him?”
“My goodness,” Fabinho managed to gasp in between fits of laughs. “Ay, dios, that was a disaster! The boss never danced in front of us again!”
“Let’s bet on it.” Henderson held out some coins. “If he dances, I owe you three pounds. But if he doesn’t, you owe me three, understand?”
Matip just smirked. “The tin foil hat never fails.”
*
A few hours later, Henderson was torn between the urge to celebrate with his team, and the regret of letting three whole pounds so cheaply go to waste.
Klopp was dancing. And not just regular dancing, dad dancing.
This was awful.
“What did I tell you guys!” Now Matip had that stupid grin on again. What type of torture day was this? “Joel says the boss will dance, and the boss dances!”
“Shut up, Joel.” Henderson snapped at the center back. “There’s already enough agony for my eyes, you don’t have to ruin the sound feed as well!”
Matip just grinned, and went off to Van Dijk while Henderson tried to hide his smirk. If he was going to lose three pounds, he might as well lose them for a better cause.
“Alright, three pounds to whoever can get the boss to stop dancing!”
Predictably, a miserable skipper ended up handing three pounds to Matip.