That chance for Zachary to play a real match came on July 20th.
Liverpool vs Borussia Dortmund at Notre Dame Stadium.
The sun was setting, but the lights had long taken over. Floodlights bathed the pitch in a clean white glow, and the air was filled with that unmistakable electricity only football could generate.
It was a pre-season match in name only.
To the American fans almost filling the 77,000-capacity stadium, this was everything. It was the Champions League winners in their backyard. It was spectacle, adrenaline, and tribal energy all rolled into one. They chanted, waved flags, sang club anthems in accents not quite Scouse but full of heart. The atmosphere felt bigger than any pre-season game had the right to be.
Zachary stood on the pitch during warm-ups, the ball at his feet, his eyes scanning the endless red in the stands. Fans screamed for Salah, Henderson, Van Dijk… and now—for him.
