August 16th, 2013
The date marked the beginning of the 2013-14 Premier League season. Tonight, more than ten clubs would kick off their campaigns for glory.
The Premier League was founded on February 20th, 1992, becoming England's top-flight football league starting with the 1992/93 season. After more than a century, the four-tier structure of English football was officially restructured.
Heading into the 2013/14 season, five clubs had claimed the Premier League crown:
Manchester United: 13 titles
Arsenal: 3 titles
Chelsea: 3 titles
Manchester City: 1 title
Blackburn Rovers: 1 title
Twenty-one seasons. Manchester United had won more than half of them. That was the Red Devils' dominance, pure and simple.
But this new season brought a complete devastating change.
After 27 years at the helm, the godfather of Manchester United, Sir Alex Ferguson, had announced his retirement. David Moyes, who had spent 11 legendary years at Everton, now stood in those large shoes.
And United had been quiet in the transfer market—worryingly quiet. For the first time in years, the chasing pack sensed blood in the water.
Manchester City and Chelsea were the bookmakers' favorites. Liverpool, who had finished a disappointing seventh last season, were written off by most pundits. The media consensus was clear: if the fallen giant could just scrape into the Champions League spots, that would constitute success.
Unless, of course, their new owners went on a Manchester City-style spending spree.
But with UEFA's Financial Fair Play regulations now in effect, the era of unlimited spending was over. The path to compliance and avoiding European competition bans had become considerably more complicated.
For the fans packing into pubs across Liverpool, none of that mattered. They cared about one thing: the match in front of them.
Liverpool versus Stoke City. The Premier League curtain-raiser. The very first match of the new season.
3:15 PM - The Boot Room Pub, Liverpool
Three hours before kickoff, and The Boot Room was already rammed to the rafters.
Red shirts swamped every corner like a crimson tide. The air hung dense with the mingled scents of beer foam, fried fish, and sweat. The noise of voices threatened to lift the wooden roof clean off its foundations.
Behind the bar, Old George worked in a controlled panic, his glass-polishing rag never stopping.
"Busier than derby day in the Shankly era," he muttered to his barman, though his eyes never left the television screens mounted on the walls.
Sean slammed his pint glass down hard enough to slosh foam onto the table. "The whole bloody country's waiting for us to fall flat on our faces! I read every paper this morning—not one had us winning! That tosser at the Manchester Evening News even bet Julien wouldn't last half a season!"
"Let them laugh!" Mick roared, face already flushed, his arm slung around another supporter's shoulders. "Remember when they said Torres couldn't hack the Premier League? How'd that turn out? Ha!"
On the television, Sky Sports' pre-match analysis was in full flow. The pundit jabbed a finger at Julien's statistical breakdown with disdain. "Eighty million for Ligue 1 numbers? The Premier League isn't a children's playground."
Boooooo!
The pub erupted in a chorus of jeers and curses.
Liz stared at her phone, worry creasing her forehead. "Twitter's having a field day. They've photoshopped Julien wearing a life jacket. Caption says: 'SS Liverpool—About to Sink.'"
"Bollocks!" Mick jumped onto his chair, phone held high, recording. "Right then, lads! Let those waiting-to-gloat bastards hear what we think! JULIEN DE ROCCA!"
He led the chant, and the entire pub exploded in thunderous response: "YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE!"
In the corner, a group of older supporters argued with increasing intensity.
"Mark Hughes will have Shawcross putting in reducer tackles all match," one man said, his hand trembling around his glass. "Remember what he did to Ramsey? That Arsenal kid's never been the same since Shawcross snapped his leg. Still doesn't have that spark he used to."
"Exactly why we need Lucas protecting midfield!" another shouted back.
"Protect nothing! We should go all-out attack! Score goals and shut them up!"
Jamie Carragher's nephew also named Jamie pushed to the front of the bar and rapped his knuckles on the wood for attention. "Listen up! Those London ponces, those Manchester wankers—they're all waiting for us to crumble. They want to see Julien get crunched. They want to see Liverpool humiliated. We're always the underdogs, aren't we?"
He swept his gaze around the pub, voice dropping to something more intense. "But that's Liverpool Football Club. We've never proven ourselves in the easy times. Shankly said it best: 'Football isn't a matter of life and death—it's much more important than that.' Today, we remind all of England: You can knock Liverpool down, but you'll never keep us down!"
He checked his watch. "Two more pints and I'm off. Everyone from Spirit of Shankly—we're going to the ground early. Julien needs to feel what Anfield's all about!"
"Right behind you!"
Multiple voices called out in agreement.
Liverpool had many supporter groups, some with histories stretching back decades. But Spirit of Shankly, founded just a few years earlier during the turbulent Hicks and Gillett ownership era, had quickly become the most influential voice among the fanbase. They were fiercely independent, unafraid to challenge the club on ticket prices, commercial decisions, and anything that threatened Liverpool's traditions. They represented the fans' united voice, determined to keep the club accountable to its "fans first" ethos.
Their only rival in influence was Spion Kop 1906, the group responsible for the incredible tifo displays that adorned the Kop.
5:30 PM - Anfield Road
The street outside Anfield had transformed into a boiling sea of red.
Two hours until kickoff, but the road was already gridlocked with humanity. The air sizzled with fevered anticipation. In Stanley Park—situated between Anfield and Goodison Park, groups of supporters marched toward the stadium with flags held high, songs on their lips.
Around the Shankly Gates, fans gathered in clusters, discussing the season opener with the intensity of generals planning battle strategy.
Then, from somewhere down the road, came a roar like an approaching tsunami.
"They're here!"
Someone screamed the words.
Anfield Road ignited.
Tens of thousands surged toward the barriers, police was struggling to maintain the human wall separating the crowd from the roadway. Every voice unified into one song—You'll Never Walk Alone—the volume so overwhelming it rattled the windows of nearby cafés.
First came the flashing blue lights of police motorcycles. Then the familiar red coach emerged, cutting through the crimson ocean like a ship through stormy seas, its paintwork was gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
Fans hammered on the windows, thousands of hands were reaching toward the bus as if trying to absorb strength through touch alone.
"GERRARD!"
"GERRARD!"
"JULIEN! LOOK HERE!"
Steven Gerrard smiled and waved to the windows. Daniel Sturridge bobbed his head to music through his headphones. And Julien De Rocca, sitting by the window, took in the sight of an entire street roaring for his team.
It reminded him of Bastia. But different. Here, the sea was red instead of blue. Here, the crowd was ten times larger.
Unconsciously, Julien sat straighter in his seat.
The coach rolled into the players' tunnel entrance, cutting off the last rays of daylight. But You'll Never Walk Alone still penetrated the steel walls, resonating through the vehicle's interior like distant thunder.
Gerrard unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Julien. "Welcome to Anfield, kid. Come on—time to get to work."
Julien nodded and followed his teammates into Liverpool's cathedral: Anfield.
During his time at Liverpool, Julien had immersed himself in the club's history.
Anfield Stadium, located in the Anfield district of Liverpool in Merseyside, England, was a UEFA four-star stadium. But for football fans worldwide, it was far more than a venue with 50,000-plus seats. It was the heart and soul of Liverpool Football Club—a temple of faith built on songs and belief.
Anfield's story began in 1884 as the home of city rivals Everton. But a dispute over ground rent led Everton to relocate to Goodison Park in 1892, leaving Anfield vacant. Rather than let the stadium sit empty, Liverpool Football Club was founded that same year.
Red became the eternal color of this ground.
On September 23rd, 1892, Liverpool christened their new home with an 8-0 demolition of Walton. From that day forward, Anfield witnessed legends: Shankly, Paisley, Dalglish, Gerrard. It became one of the most storied home grounds in English football history.
The current Anfield wasn't the one Julien remembered from his previous life—that version had been expanded by Fenway Sports Group. This was the original structure from the previous century, but each stand carried its own unique story.
The Kop.
The soul of Liverpool.
The symbol of the supporters' spirit.
Named in honor of the Spion Kop battle during the Second Boer War, it was the most famous single stand in world football. Originally a standing terrace, it had been converted to all-seater after the tragedies of Hillsborough and Heysel in 1994, but still held around 12,000 of Liverpool's most devoted fans.
This was where You'll Never Walk Alone rang loudest, where the flame of hope burned brightest in dark moments. The giant flags and unceasing songs made it a nightmare for visiting players.
The Centenary Stand honored the club's 100th anniversary in 1992. Julien knew it would be renamed the Kenny Dalglish Stand in 2017, but for now it carried its original name.
The Anfield Road Stand housed the away supporters' section. Every visiting team had to steel themselves to play in front of Liverpool's wall of noise.
The Main Stand contained the players' tunnel, technical areas, executive boxes, and media seats. Above the tunnel entrance hung the famous sign: "This Is Anfield"—a reminder of the weight of history bearing down on everyone who passed beneath it.
What made Anfield legendary wasn't just its architecture, but its atmosphere. Whether on matchdays or training days, the songs never stopped. When You'll Never Walk Alone thundered before kickoff, the entire stadium transformed into a red ocean.
That spine-tingling power could break even the bravest opponents.
With new ownership in place, Anfield's future was a constant topic of discussion. Its 54,074-capacity ranked only fifth in the Premier League—insufficient for global demand. Expansion plans were already in the works: modernizing while preserving the soul.
This 121-year-old stadium was about to be reborn with Saudi investment, fulfilling one of the promises made when the new owners took over. State-of-the-art training facilities. Stadium expansion. The future looked bright.
Brendan Rodgers clapped his hands, snapping Julien from his thoughts.
"Listen up, lads," the manager said. "Those people outside are singing You'll Never Walk Alone, but we all need to ask ourselves one question: does this Liverpool team deserve that song?"
He let the words hang for a moment.
"Stoke will park the bus—that's guaranteed. They'll use their bodies to squeeze every inch of space. They'll foul to break up every attack." Rodgers pointed at Gerrard. "Steven, I need you anchoring that midfield triangle. Switch the play, left to right. Their man N'Zonzi will stick to you like glue—use your experience to teach him a lesson."
His eyes shifted to Sturridge. "You're stretching their back line. I want you attacking the gap between Huth and Shawcross constantly. Pull them out of the box."
During Luis Suárez's suspension, Rodgers had installed Sturridge as the central striker.
Then Rodgers turned to Julien.
Originally, the manager hadn't planned to start him this early. No matter the circumstances, he hadn't wanted a boardroom signing parachuted into his first XI. But two friendlies had changed his mind completely. A winger with genuine one-on-one ability was too valuable to leave on the bench.
So much for "not in my plans."
"Julien." Rodgers' voice was restrained. "They'll kick you. They'll grab your shirt. They'll leave studs on your ankle. But I need you to keep taking them on. The team needs you to tear holes in their shape. I believe their packed defense won't trouble you."
Julien nodded.
Rodgers continued addressing the rest of the squad, going through positions thoroughly. Finally, he tapped the tactics board with emphasis.
"Their biggest weakness is their defensive shape! Rhythm changes—that's the key! Start slow, then explode. Use horizontal passing to stretch them out. When their legs go, we strike!"
"Right then. Let's go."
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