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On the Monday after the game against Man. U, the players all had a day off from training. They’d done a tactics session after breakfast, and now everybody had some free time before Milner and Lallana came over in the afternoon.
Klopp had wanted to spend his free time working on extra tactics for the match on Thursday, but the rest of the coaching staff had evicted him from the office as soon as he expressed his desire, saying that he needed free time as much as the rest of the team did. So, with Arwen still at school for classes and after-school band practice, Klopp took it upon himself to entertain the bored younger children so their parents could get a break.
After a prematurely-ended game of hide-and-seek, thanks to Tristan getting trapped under sacks upon sacks of footballs and Aya waking up from her nap, Klopp gathered them in the nursery so he could read to them. Nemmer had gotten Florrie and Kairo a new book a week ago, and she’d made it a point to read it to them every day. Klopp hadn’t understood why Nemmer was so insistent, but now, as he read the book, he was starting to understand what his compatriot was trying to tell her children.
“Goodbye to only watching is hello to joining in. Goodbye to almost giving up is hello to one more try. Goodbye to superpowers is hello to sweet dreams. Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree—”
Aya squealed at Klopp’s sudden switch from reading to singing, clapping her hands together in delight. “Elayiiiii-ja!”
Moana was less impressed at the interruption of the usual text. Young as she was, it was a well-known fact that interruptions annoyed her to no end. “Story!”
“Ah, youth. One day, you will all appreciate Eurythmics in all their glory.” Klopp chuckled to himself, quickly continuing to read when he saw Moana’s glare. “But sometimes, when you least expect it, a goodbye comes along that really feels like the end. Sometimes, goodbye is the last thing you want to say. Like when goodbye to holding tight…is hello to letting go. But no matter what, goodbye to today…is hello to tomorrow. Because every goodbye leads to a hello.”
He closed the book, glancing down at the kids. They were all seated on the alphabet rug, except for Aya, who was watching on from her crib. “Shall we read another one?”
Florrie frowned, leaning back so her weight rested on her hands. “Mummy’s read us that book every day. And now you’re reading it to us.”
Klopp hesitated. “Yes, and…”
“Why?” Kairo blurted before Florrie could say anything. “Why do all the grownups keep talking to us about saying goodbye?”
"Because he’s leaving, Kairo!" Florrie exclaimed, eyes wide as if she’d just realised it for the first time. “There won’t just be a new guy here. The boss won’t work here anymore…and he’ll be leaving Kirkby, too.”
"But we need you!" Kairo argued, glaring at Klopp with his arms folded. "You're our boss! You always stay here."
Klopp winced, briefly wondering why he’d ever decided to read that particular book to them. He'd told the kids that he was leaving back in January, along with the staff and players. But, with kids being kids and Florrie and Kairo only just turning five in February, it hadn't seemed to sink in until now. It had hurt Klopp to see everybody's reactions, but watching the children realise the finality of the situation was far worse.
Most of the children who lived in Kirkby 24/7 were so young that they couldn't remember life any other way. Florrie and Kairo had been two and three when they'd been adopted by Nemmer and moved into Kirkby, while Moana had been adopted at 18 months old. Kerry had adopted Tristan when he was a very tiny baby. Kanchana had even been pregnant with Aya while living in Kirkby, and she had given birth in the hospital relatively close to the training ground. Only Arwen had strong, grounding memories outside of Kirkby, but she'd grown so close to Klopp that the separation was going to be just as painful.
"I'll…we'll be okay." Klopp took a deep breath, trying not to lose his composure. It was strange; he’d become good at hiding his true opinions and emotions from dozens of insistent journalists, but there was something about young children that always managed to unravel him. "I'll always be your boss, kiddos."
"But you need to be our boss here ! You need to take Kairo and me to our first day of kindergarten, you need to teach Moana how to read. You need to play footy with Aya once she starts running and kicking the ball." Florrie clung to Klopp's leg, gazing up at him with watery eyes. "You can't leave yet."
Tristan stamped his foot and crossed his arms. "Stay here!" he yelled, insistent in the way only a two-year-old could be.
Moana plopped down onto the "K" on the alphabet rug, half-heartedly running her hands through the pile. " Opa ."
Kairo, for once, was quiet. He clung onto Klopp's other leg, looking down at the floor.
Baby Aya didn't say anything, but she stared at Klopp from behind the crib bars with wide eyes. Klopp sighed, lifted Aya out from the crib, and sat back down in the rocking chair, bouncing her on his knee.
"I know it's hard, Kinderchen ," Klopp said softly, stroking Aya's hair. Aya grasped his finger and tried to teethe on it, before deciding against it and proceeding to teethe on Klopp’s jacket instead. "But sometimes we have to do hard things for the people we love. It's time for me to move on, and for you all to keep growing and learning. But, I promise you, I will always be here for you. I'll come back to visit and we can still talk on the phone and video chat. You're all amazing kids, and you’re going to do amazing things, with or without me."
Florrie sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Okay," she whispered, still holding onto Klopp's leg.
Kairo looked up at Klopp with a small smile. "Can we still play football together after you leave?"
Klopp sighed in relief, ruffling Kairo’s hair. It was growing longer and thicker by the day, but Kairo still vehemently refused to let Nemmer do anything more than trim it. "We’ll play every time I come back.”
Tristan toddled over to Klopp and hugged his leg. "Bye-bye," he said, waving his hand.
"Silly, Opa’s not leaving yet!” Kairo grasped Tristan’s hand, stopping him from waving. “We’ve got seven more matches before that.”
“Plus two matches in the Europa League, and maybe even three others. So…” Florrie paused as she counted her fingers, then went to her toes once she ran out of fingers. “Twelve whole matches.”
Moana looked up at Klopp with a determined expression, climbing onto his lap. She was very athletic for an almost three-year-old and could draw and write letters well; but she didn’t speak very much, having only said her first word at fourteen months old. Klopp had spoken a couple of times with Jonathan and Louella about getting her tested for any potential speech disorder, but they’d insisted that she was just slow to speak and would be fine.
Moana wasn’t the only one of the kids that Klopp had worried about. He could already see telltale signs of mild anxiety in Florrie’s overprotective behaviour towards her siblings, and Kairo often struggled with expressing his emotions properly. Klopp made a mental note to talk to Nemmer about getting them some extra support before he left.
As he held Moana in his arms, Klopp felt a pang of sadness and guilt. He had grown so attached to these kids, and it hurt to think about leaving them behind. But the staff and players loved them, too. He knew that they would all be okay.
"Alright, then." Klopp set Moana and Aya onto the floor, standing up with a grunt from the chair. "Let's go out on the pitch. I have a board meeting at two, but Milly’s planning a lactate test competition between him and Domi.”
“Lactate test! Lactate test!” The children cheered, running out of the nursery and into the hall. Aya crawled after them so fast that she could’ve been running. Their arguments about who was going to beat Milner’s running times slowly faded out until it was indistinct chatter, then nothingness.
Moneta, who was now in that awkward stage between kitten and cat, trotted up to him rubbing her head against Klopp’s ankle. Klopp picked her up and hugged her tightly.
“They grow up fast, don’t they?” Lijnders appeared out of nowhere, standing next to Klopp. “Next thing you know, they’re going to be graduating from university.”
“D- don’t remind me of that.” Klopp held onto Moneta tighter, his voice cracking as he did. Moneta yowled at being hugged so tightly. She climbed up Klopp as if he were a pole wrapping herself around his neck like a scarf. “Florrie and Kairo were so small when they came, and they’re starting kindergarten in August. Zel and I first met Winnie as a very tiny girl, and she’ll be ten in October. I held Ellie after she was born, and now Chelsea tells me that she’s running, and asking for animal crackers at every hour of the day, and tripping down the stairs and managing to catch herself in time.”
Lijnders smirked, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Sounds like something you’d do.”
“They’re going to grow into amazing people, and now we’ll miss everything.”
“We’re not going to miss everything! We’re going to visit, remember? We’ve already agreed to Zoom call the team every day and send letters. Letters that won’t go unanswered, by the way.”
This only upset Klopp further. He buried his face into Moneta’s soft fur, as the kitten mewled in protest at how her fur was suddenly damp.
“Okay…wrong thing to say, then.” Lijnders rested his hand on Klopp’s shoulder as if trying to read his energy. Or whatever was left of it—any energy he’d given off was now absorbed within himself, just like he was in his sombre thoughts. “That’s not the only thing on your mind, is it?”
Klopp shook his head, allowing Moneta to climb down. She scampered down the hall, in the same direction the kids had gone.
“Am I making the wrong choice?”
“What?”
“The boys want me to stay. The kids want me to stay, the fans want me to stay. Part of the reason everybody’s so stressed about winning everything in a rebuilding season while battling injuries is because they want to give me a farewell present. Jarell, Jayden, Bobby, James, Conor, Mateusz, Lewis, Callum, and Trey all made their senior debuts this season, and they were worried about it instead of excited. Why? Because they didn’t want to make a mistake that tarnished my legacy. When Ali was diagnosed with that serious hamstring injury, he wrote me an apology card because he feared that he’d never play under me again. He apologised for an injury that wasn’t his fault, do you see the problem here, Pep?”
“You gave sixteen-year-old Trey Nyoni a debut in a cup match against Southampton?”
“It’s me. The problem is me. Everybody’s so afraid of disappointing me that it’s stressing them out, no matter how much I tell them that they shouldn’t.”
Lijnders nodded in understanding. "I see what you mean, but you can't take all the responsibility for their feelings. You've been a great boss and mentor to them, but ultimately, they have to learn to cope with their own emotions and fears. You can't control everything."
Klopp sighed heavily, knowing that Lijnders was right. "I know, but I can’t imagine not being a part of life here every day. What they say is true, you know: I have adopted all of you. I love everybody here as if they were my blood family. I need them, and they need me, but they don’t need me holding them back."
"Listen to me. You said it yourself, Yuri, you’re running out of energy. You’re not leaving for yourself, you’re leaving so the team can go forward. You've been the team’s boss, mentor, father figure, grandfather figure, psychologist, cheerleader, and protector for almost nine years.” Lijnders squeezed Klopp’s hand, looking at him in his eyes. “You’ve done so much. You’ve earned a good, long break, and I need a new adventure in the Netherlands.”
Klopp flashed the barest hint of a smile at that last part. “You’re going to do so well, Pep.”
Lijnders ducked his head, trying to hide the faint blush speckling itself along his cheeks. “I’m going to change Jordan back into the one we used to know. It won’t be easy, but…I’ll try.”
Klopp nodded, ruffling Lijnders’ hair. “Trying is all that matters, Pep. The more we try, the more we succeed.”
“Don’t you dare go Ted Lasso on me!”
“I can’t help it. You’re my Beard.”
“Shouldn’t Zel be your Beard? You two were best friends for twenty-five years, and we’ve only been friends for six years.”
“Zel became my best friend after he didn’t want to be my boyfriend. You became my best friend after my best friend that I still had a crush on left me without any reason why and refused to respond to my letters. As far as I’m concerned, that makes you the Beard to my Lasso.”
“That is so cheesy, yet so true.”