Rooney's defiant words after the derby defeat fell on deaf ears among Liverpool fans. For fans who hadn't tasted such a complete victory over Manchester United in years, there was no sympathy to spare for their rivals' hurt pride.
Social media erupted with Liverpool voices cutting through the noise.
"Lost the derby and still running his mouth like that? Rooney's 'revenge declaration' sounds more like a retirement speech," one fan posted, the comment was quickly gathering likes and shares.
The schadenfreude was obvious across every platform. "United are basically collapsing in front of our eyes. Moyes has proven he's simply not up to the job—facts don't lie."
Another supporter suggested with mock sincerity, "Old Trafford should erect a monument to Julien's dribbling. How else can they properly honor the way he keeps stress-testing their defense, over and over again?"
The classic jokes reappeared, dusted off and polished for another airing: "Why is the Old Trafford pitch so brilliantly green? Because it's watered with Manchester United fans' tears. And why does it rain constantly in Manchester? Because even God can't bear to watch their football anymore!"
The Liverpool fans were in full voice, but naturally, the Red Devils' supporters weren't about to take the mockery lying down.
Their counterattacks came as swift and acidic: "We suggest Liverpool change 'You'll Never Walk Alone' to 'You'll Never Win the League.' After all, the dust on Liverpool's top-flight trophy could be scraped off and turned into enough chalk to supply every school in the city for a decade."
Beyond the familiar fighting that defined the rivalry, Liverpool fans turned their attention to deeper concerns about the match itself. Yes, three points were three points—that essential truth of football couldn't be disputed. But the manner of victory left many feeling uneasy, like a meal that satisfied hunger without providing proper nourishment.
"Stevie's clearly running on empty now," one tactical analysis thread began. "His ability to control the midfield has dropped off intensely. We can't keep expecting Julien to slalom past three defenders every single match, can we?"
A more detailed breakdown appeared on one of the fan forums, it was the kind of post that gathered momentum as anxious fans recognized their own concerns reflected back at them.
"After reviewing the full ninety minutes, Liverpool's attacking system has serious tactical problems that need addressing. The structure Rodgers designed simply didn't materialize on the pitch. What we got instead was complete dependence on Julien's match-winning abilities to break down opposition defenses, with almost no off-ball movement to support him.
When Southampton deployed their double-team marking, our fullbacks didn't even dare push forward to offer a passing option! Look at that winning goal: Julien was literally surrounded by four defenders in a closing trap, and he still managed to tear open a gap through pure skills. That kind of football is suicide against top-tier opposition.
Villa showed the blueprint, Southampton confirmed it, and now every team in the league knows exactly how to play against us: neutralize Julien, cut off his connection to teammates, and suddenly we have no attacking threat at all!
The most frightening aspect is: with Gerrard genuinely unable to cover ground anymore, we're completely exposed on the counter-attack. The midfield becomes a highway. If Southampton hadn't squandered several clear chances themselves, this match would have been far more difficult than the scoreline shows. We got away with one today."
Not everyone shared the pessimism. A more optimistic voice pushed back, "Yes, the process was ugly, but three points are three points—that's the hard currency of football! Isn't Julien's superstar value precisely demonstrated in moments like these? Remember, at this same point last season we were wallowing in eighth place! We need to give Rodgers and these young players time to develop and gel together."
"Three points secured, absolutely," another fan passed, "but I nearly had a heart attack watching that match! We're completely reliant on Julien's individual ability to chisel out results!"
The tactical concerns kept resurfacing, "Our fullback situation is a disaster waiting to happen! They push up but can't recover, getting caught out behind the defense every single time! We absolutely must sign reinforcements in the January window!"
"Just compare Southampton's defensive organization to ours," came another lament. "What do we have beyond 'give it to Julien and pray'? Is that really the extent of our tactical sophistication?"
That evening, multiple English media outlets published their match reports, and the consensus was remarkably uniform despite coming from different editorial perspectives.
Beneath Liverpool's position at the summit of the table, dangerous currents were swirling beneath the surface. The praise for sitting top came with asterisks, qualifications, warnings about sustainability. Success built on such narrow foundations was inherently fragile, they said, and sooner or later the structure would face stresses it couldn't withstand.
The following morning, Julien arrived at Melwood training complex right on schedule. The facility had an almost eerie quietness to it, emptier than usual, with only scattered staff members moving about their duties. When they spotted Julien, they called out greetings across the pitches.
"Hey, Julien! That strike last night was absolutely magnificent!" one of the groundskeepers shouted with genuine admiration.
"Five consecutive matches with goals now," another staff member added, shaking his head in wonder. "Bloody hell, you're going to go down as the greatest attacking player in this club's history."
Julien acknowledged each compliment with a smile and a wave, the routine interactions were feeling comfortable as he made his way toward the changing rooms. He had work to do, serious work. Attribute development couldn't afford delays or distractions. Any available time had to be invested in training.
The reason for Melwood's unusual emptiness was straightforward enough.
With the Manchester United match having fallen midweek, Liverpool faced a compressed turnaround—only four days to prepare for their next fixture.
After the euphoria of dismantling their greatest rivals, Rodgers had been riding high on confidence in the dressing room celebrations. In that optimistic mood, he'd granted the squad a rest day to aid recovery, with proper training resuming tomorrow.
The timing made sense from a squad management perspective, particularly given Liverpool's rising injury crisis. Both first-choice fullbacks, Glen Johnson and José Enrique, were currently sidelined with various knocks and strains. Coutinho's shoulder issue continued to linger, his recovery was frustratingly slow despite the medical team's best efforts.
The bright spot in Liverpool's injury news, the silver lining that had Rodgers genuinely excited about tactical possibilities was Luis Suárez's imminent return from suspension. Eight matches on the sidelines, three carried over from last season and five served this campaign, were finally complete.
The ban had reached its conclusion.
With Suárez back in the selection pool, Rodgers could finally deploy the front three he'd been dreaming about since the summer: Sturridge returning to his more comfortable position drifting in from the left, Suárez operating centrally where his movement and link-up play could torture defensive lines, and Julien commanding the right flank with his devastating combination of pace and technical ability.
All three possessed exceptional off-ball movement, the kind of intelligent running that created space and stretched defenses. With Suárez's pull dragging markers out of position, maybe Sturridge who is goalless for two matches now and clearly feeling the defensive attention could rediscover his scoring touch.
Perhaps that attacking trident could reignite his confidence and form.
Julien spent the entire morning in training, pushing through a grueling three-hour session. Dave, the kit manager, made multiple trips to the pitch to gently remind him about overtraining risks, the older man's concern was obvious. "Easy does it, lad. Your body needs recovery time too, you know."
When the session finally concluded, Julien pulled up his current attributes for review:
[Dribbling (+1): 93 (95); Passing: 83 (85)
Shooting (+1): 89 (90); Heading: 44 (63)
Speed (+1): 75 (76); Strength: 75 (77)
Jump: 67 (72); Stamina (+1): 86 (90)
Defending: 35 (40); Tackling: 25 (33)
Flexibility (+1): 70 (71); Ball Control (+1): 93 (95)
Hidden Attribute: Injury Resistance: 71]
By Premier League standards, these numbers placed him firmly in elite territory. When combined with his various enhanced abilities and special skills, his overall capability reached something approaching historical significance.
Still, attribute growth had slowed to a crawl at these upper levels. The higher the base statistic, the more grinding repetition required for each incremental improvement. It was the inevitable block that came with excellence—the final margins of greatness demanded exponentially more work than the earlier jumps from good to very good.
Julien felt no anxiety about the slower progression, though. Time stretched ahead of him, years and years to carefully push every attribute toward its maximum potential. Patience and persistence would get him there eventually.
The destination was certain; only the timeline remained variable.
After lunch, Julien left to the players' lounge for his afternoon rest: scanning newspapers before the post-meal rest period, then another training block later. The back pages and sports supplements were spread across the coffee table, the usual mix of fact, speculation, and outright fantasy that defined football journalism.
Several transfer rumors caught his attention with the kind of stories that circulated endlessly during international breaks and between matches.
Portuguese outlet Record claimed that Xabi Alonso who'd left Liverpool for Real Madrid in 2009 for £30 million might be headed back to Anfield. With his Madrid contract expiring next summer and a current injury keeping him sidelined indefinitely, Madrid were open to negotiations due to his age and contract situation.
Besides Liverpool, both Napoli and Juventus had shown interest. According to Record's sources, Alonso retained deep affection for Liverpool, which gave the Reds an advantage in any potential bidding war. The reported price was a mere £5 million for the January transfer window.
English media were also busy stirring the pot, doing what they did best: creating instability and discord.
The Times ran a piece suggesting that despite Suárez ultimately staying at Liverpool, everyone understood it hadn't been his preference.
During the Confederations Cup, Suárez had made his desire to join Real Madrid abundantly clear through multiple comments to the press. Later came Arsenal's pursuit, which had ended when Wenger's insultingly low bid had prompted Liverpool to angrily reject the approach and strongarm Suárez into remaining.
The article emphasized a crucial detail about Liverpool's lack of European competition: Suárez would be eligible to play for any Champions League or Europa League club if he transferred during the January window. There were no cup-tying restrictions holding him back. His future, The Times suggested with barely concealed glee, remained wide open to all possibilities.
Similar destabilizing rumors swirled around other players—Henderson potentially being sold, Gerrard's contract situation growing uncertain, the club supposedly preparing to move on from their aging captain.
All of it fed by Liverpool's recent struggles, the kind of vulnerable moments when English media smelled blood in the water and circled hungrily. They'd love nothing more than to see Liverpool torn apart from within, piece by piece.
Naturally, Julien himself featured prominently in the rumor mill. With Liverpool's squad deficiencies becoming increasingly obvious and Champions League participation crucial for attracting and retaining elite talent, several outlets reported that Julien might seek a January departure to a genuine European powerhouse.
Both Spanish giants, Real Madrid and Barcelona, were supposedly monitoring his situation with keen interest, ready to pounce if any opening appeared.
Julien couldn't help but laugh at these particular stories. This was classic "toilet paper journalism"—the industry term for publications that printed absolutely anything to generate clicks and sell copies, accuracy be damned.
If someone had heat, they'd latch onto it like parasites. Speculation piled on speculation, rumors built from nothing but guesswork and wishful thinking, all presented as insider information from unnamed sources.
After skimming the gossip pages and finding nothing of actual substance, Julien turned his attention to news about other clubs around the league. One story in particular made him pause and reflect on the brutal realities of management in English football.
Five matches into the Premier League season, a manager had already been sacked. The speed was almost shocking, though it probably shouldn't have been after years of watching the merry-go-round spin.
"Premier League management is absolutely ruthless," Julien muttered to himself, shaking his head. "The pressure must be unbearable."
Paolo Di Canio—the Italian troublemaker whose personality and approach bore striking similarities to Mourinho's confrontational style had been dismissed by Sunderland after collecting just a single point from five matches: one draw, four defeats, dead last in the table.
The Black Cats had shown him the door without hesitation.
Sunderland happened to be Liverpool's next league opponent, which meant Di Canio hadn't even survived long enough to face the Reds.
In a willful way, Liverpool had missed an opportunity—new managers often experienced immediate bounces in form, but facing a club in managerial chaos usually presented chances to collect easy points. Now Sunderland would arrive with the vagueness of caretaker management, which could go either way.
Reports suggested Roberto Di Matteo, who'd guided Chelsea to Champions League glory against all odds, might become Sunderland's next permanent appointment. For now, though, the assistant coaching staff were holding things together on an interim basis.
The catalyst for Di Canio's dismissal had been Matchday Five: a humiliating 3-0 defeat away to West Bromwich Albion that left Sunderland rooted to the bottom of the table with the league's worst defensive record; eleven goals conceded already. They'd sunk deep into relegation quicksand with alarming speed.
The irony was Di Canio had once been Sunderland's savior, the man who'd swooped in during last season's relegation battle and performed just enough last-minute heroics to preserve their Premier League status.
His most memorable moment was a three-goal destruction of Newcastle in a crucial derby, it was the kind of result that bought enormous goodwill from both fans and boardroom.
After that triumph, everyone from ownership to fans had backed the eccentric Italian manager unconditionally. The Fleet Street press had even crowned him "Mourinho II," saying he possessed similar tactical ability and motivational genius beneath the abrasive exterior.
Armed with that support, Di Canio had embarked on an ambitious summer rebuild. In one frenzied transfer window, Sunderland had signed an astonishing fourteen new players, a wholesale reconstruction of the squad designed to transform them from relegation battlers into solid mid-table performers.
The revolution had failed spectacularly.
Those five opening fixtures produced only a single point—a 1-1 draw with Southampton on Matchday Two.
According to The Daily Mail's statistical breakdown, Di Canio's overall record since taking charge made for grim reading: twelve matches, two wins, three draws, seven defeats. A win percentage of merely seventeen percent, numbers that couldn't be defended or explained away.
Poor results alone hadn't sealed his fate, though. Di Canio's combative relationships with players and his well-documented fascist political sympathies had created an impossible situation. The combination of tactical failure, dressing room discord, and toxic public image left Sunderland's ownership with no alternative but to act decisively.
Beyond the legitimate football news, a Tabloid had tucked an absolutely bizarre story into the bottom corner of one page, it was the kind of tabloid madness that made Julien laugh out loud in disbelief.
A 61-year-old IT engineer from London was currently standing trial at Highbury Magistrates' Court for an offense so absurd it seemed like satire.
His crime? Attempting to engage in sexual relations with a sheep outside Tottenham Hotspur's Enfield training ground.
On September 4th just two days after Gareth Bale's world-record transfer to Real Madrid, while André Villas-Boas was conducting training sessions inside the complex, this engineer had apparently arrived at the facility gates with a sheep in tow. His intention, witnesses reported, was to publicly commit acts of bestiality with the unfortunate animal.
Horrified passersby had immediately called the police, leading to his arrest before anything could actually occur.
Julien was still processing this utterly bewildering story when the lounge door swung open, interrupting his reading.
"Julien, the staff mentioned you were here, so I thought I'd come find you," David Dein announced cheerfully, stepping inside with his usual broad smile.
He had clearly come with a specific purpose in mind. "Look at you, coming in to train on your rest day. Honestly, we should probably implement a rule banning anyone from the facility during mandated recovery periods."
Both men laughed at the suggestion, though there was truth beneath the humor.
Julien gestured to the seat beside him, and Dein settled in, immediately noticing the newspapers spread across the table. His expression soured slightly. "All of that's just heat-chasing nonsense from journalists who'll say anything for clicks," he said dismissively. "Not worth your attention or concern."
"I know," Julien replied with a smile. "I'm just curious what tales they're spinning about us out there. Keeping tabs on the external perception."
After a few minutes of comfortable small talk, Dein shifted to the real reason for his visit, his tone became more focused and businesslike.
"The club wants to make significant signings during the January transfer window," he began, leaning forward slightly. "I've been considering various targets, but many players might decline to join mid-season specifically because we don't have European competition to offer. What I need are players who've already proven themselves at a high level and who'd be willing to commit to Liverpool despite the absence of Champions League or Europa League football this year."
Dein's smile turned knowing as he looked directly at Julien, his intention was becoming clear. He wanted Julien to leverage his relationships and reputation to help recruit players who might otherwise be unreachable.
Dein knew the full story of how Bastia's connections had been utilized before. Now he had his sights set on another target, and once again, he intended to raid Chelsea's squad for talent they were underutilizing.
Julien immediately understood what was being asked of him—Dein wanted him to activate his network, to use his personal relationships and pull to bring in targets who'd trust his judgment and vision for Liverpool's project.
"Kevin," Julien said without hesitation, cutting straight to the player he believed could transform Liverpool's creativity. "If we can get Kevin, our attacking threat increases intensely. He'd give us so much more control and invention in the middle of the pitch."
Kevin De Bruyne, he was the obvious choice, the player whose abilities Julien had witnessed firsthand during their time together.
Dein's smile widened with satisfaction. "I completely agree about De Bruyne's quality. His midfield capabilities are exceptional, and the understanding you two developed at Bastia was obvious to everyone who watched you play together. The question, though, is whether he'd actually be willing to leave Chelsea in January. They're the reigning Premier League and Champions League champions—newly minted European royalty. That's a powerful magnet."
"He'll come," Julien said with confidence. "We've talked about it before—playing together, building something as brothers. That means something to both of us."
"Ha! The beautiful simplicity of young friendships," Dein laughed genuinely, clearly pleased with the directness of it.
His expression grew more curious as he observed Julien. "So, tell me—are there any other brothers of yours who might be interested in transferring? Because I can assure you, we have very substantial funds available for the right targets."
The statement was basically laying all cards on the table. Dein was signaling, in the clearest possible terms, that Liverpool wanted to build their team around Julien as the central figure.
The directness caught Julien slightly off guard, though perhaps it shouldn't have. He knew Dein's character well enough, he never played games or spoke carelessly.
If he was saying this aloud, he'd already secured backing from ownership and management. They'd clearly recognized the value of Julien's captaincy of the French national team, a position that connected him to numerous world-class talents who might be persuaded to follow his lead.
The strategy was brilliant in its simplicity: use Julien's relationships and reputation to attract exceptional players to Liverpool, building a squad centered around his abilities and chemistry with carefully selected teammates.
Everyone won—Liverpool got better, Julien got to play with elite talents he trusted, and the recruited players joined a project with genuine ambition and a proven superstar they respected.
Julien's mind raced through possibilities, weighing realistic options against fantasy scenarios. Finally, he decided to test just how serious Dein was about the "substantial funds" claim.
"If you could somehow bring in Raphaël Varane from Real Madrid and Virgil van Dijk from Bastia," Julien said carefully, watching Dein's reaction, "I genuinely believe our defensive line would be set for the next decade. We'd have nothing to worry about at the back."
Just imagining Varane and Van Dijk as the central defensive partnership sent a thrill through him. Two physically dominant, technically excellent, intelligent defenders in their early development stages, both with the potential to become absolute world-beaters.
The thought of them anchoring Liverpool's backline together was almost intoxicating.
Who in European football could possibly break down that defensive partnership?
The answer, realistically, was almost nobody except perhaps those two.
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