Football Dynasty

At Anfield, the stands were awash with a sea of red as fans waved Liverpool scarves above their heads, singing loudly together the anthem, "You'll Never Walk Alone."

In the Spion Kop, Liverpool's most iconic stand, the crowd erupted in fervent cheers, a wall of unwavering passion. On the opposite end, the traveling City fans huddled together—smaller in number, but no less spirited—chanting, clapping, defiantly holding their ground. It was a clash of noise, pride, and loyalty. The battle in the stands was as fierce as any on the pitch.

Richard stood in the VIP box, taking it all in. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled.

The Premier League. Anfield. I've made it.

This wasn't just a stadium. It was a cathedral of football. Just like Wembley, known as the Home of Football, Old Trafford as the Theatre of Dreams, Highbury for its Arsenal Way, and White Hart Lane, loved for its intimacy and the fierce North London derby clashes.

A crucible where great matches were forged. And now, he was here—not as a spectator, but as part of the story. Instinctively, his fingers brushed across the Liverpool crest etched into the table before him.

He remembered how, in the past, when Wimbledon visited this ground, some of their players would spit on the "This is Anfield" sign as a show of disdain. Richard found that kind of behavior deeply distasteful.

Football may be ruthless, but it still has its limits.

He would demand fire from his players, yes. But fire with respect. Passion with purpose. Winning at Anfield should mean something. It should be earned—not tainted with petty antics or shallow bravado.

Especially when that sign—"This is Anfield"—was the legacy of one of football's great architects: Bill Shankly.

People often misquoted him. They thought he'd said: "Football is not a matter of life and death; it's more important than that."

But the truth was deeper, quieter, and far more human. What Shankly really said in an interview was: "Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you, it is much more important than that."

It wasn't just a clever line—it was a philosophy. One Richard understood now more than ever.

In reality, when placed in the proper context, Shankly's famous quote was never meant to express a cold disregard for life—it was simply a bold emphasis on a positive, winning attitude, though it has often been misunderstood and distorted over time.

Bill Shankly was the man who forged the spirit of the Reds. His philosophy of winning was rooted in nobility and principle. He used subtle psychological tactics—such as personally greeting the visiting team at their bus outside Anfield with exaggerated warmth—to apply mental pressure before the match even began. Yet, his standards were clear and unwavering: he would never tolerate dirty play.

As a result, one of the managers he most despised was Helenio Herrera, the mastermind behind Inter Milan's legendary catenaccio system—a style Shankly viewed as overly defensive and cynical.

Inside the Liverpool dressing room, Shankly built a culture: a team of champions who were simple, passionate, strong, and straightforward—yet always touched by a quiet romanticism.

Richard held deep admiration for Shankly. He even believed that, had he lived in the 1960s, he would have faced a genuine dilemma: whether to be swayed by the artistry and tragedy of the Busby Babes or to fall under the fierce, magnetic charm of Shankly's Liverpool.

Because one thing was certain—even back then, you couldn't truly love both Manchester United and Liverpool at the same time.

The roar dfrom livepool fans snapped Ricahrd out of his reverie. He looked at the Liverpool players taking the field. for many among them were exceptionally talented.

The 22-year-old Jamie Redknapp was already more popular than Manchester United's Paul Scholes, alrdy langganan to the England national team.

At 24 years old, Steve McManaman, if it weren't for injuries, why should England lament that Giggs is Welsh?

Robbie Fowler, Liverpool's "God," the teenage prodigy, had pushed Ian Rush to the bench before fianlly he leavng liverppol for good to Leeds United

Goalkeeper David James might not yet be world-class, but it was certain he would become England's starting keeper.

Richard sighed at this. Among Liverpool's ranks stood one of City's lost jewels—Steve McManaman, a product of their own youth academy. It still stung to see him draped in red, dazzling under Anfield's lights. If only Mel Machin, City's manager at the time, had recognized the boy's potential instead of selling him off so early.

Richard quickly shifted his gaze. The success of others is a double-edged sword—envy is endless if you let it fester.

Yes, he felt a flicker of regret, but it wasn't the kind that gnawed at the soul.

What weighed on him more was how Liverpool, once one of England's proudest powerhouses, had gradually become a caricature of its own stubborn traditions—clinging to the past while the game evolved around them.

Their "Spice Boys", (McManaman, Fowler, Redknapp, etc.) was talented but often criticized for poor discipline, fitness issues, and lack of professionalism compared to their rivals

While not anti-modernization per se, Liverpool's club culture during this period was often viewed as resistant to change, especially compared to clubs like Manchester United (under Ferguson) and Arsenal (under Wenger later).

Heck, even West Ham—though not a major power—were among the clubs more open to modernization, particularly under progressive coaches like Harry Redknapp in the mid-to-late 1990s. They were among the first to adopt modern sports medicine practices to ensure player health. Meanwhile, Liverpool remained doubtful and resistant to such advancements.

How many promising careers had that resistance quietly destroyed?

The players on the pitch now—Jamie Redknapp, Robbie Fowler, Rob Jones—served as quiet reminders for Richard. Their struggles didn't necessarily mean every injury was the result of negligence, but the pattern was hard to ignore.

In later years, even players from those generations would speak openly about the poor standards of Liverpool's medical department.

Redknapp, for example, trained and played with a fracture that was repeatedly misdiagnosed. What began as a minor injury—easily treatable with early surgery—was allowed to worsen until it became a comminuted fracture, damaging his long-term fitness. These were not isolated cases; they were the direct consequence of a club too anchored in tradition, unwilling to fully embrace modern sports science.

Of course, Liverpool wasn't entirely at fault. Another crucial factor that prevented the club from returning to the top was a shift in discipline and culture. Under Bill Shankly, Liverpool had been known for its strict discipline and collective spirit, much like Alex Ferguson's Manchester United during the same era.

Ferguson, for instance, didn't hesitate to part ways with talented players like Lee Sharpe when their off-field behavior began to set a bad example—he knew one bad influence could disrupt the entire dressing room. But at Liverpool, the emerging generation of stars gained a very different reputation.

This group, despite their talent, became known as "The Spice Boys"—a nickname that didn't reflect their footballing flair, but rather their flashy, carefree lifestyle off the pitch. That cultural shift—from disciplined unity to personal indulgence—proved just as damaging as any tactical flaw.

In a footballer's career, there are two great enemies: injuries and a lack of self-discipline.

Over the years, Liverpool had failed to manage either effectively. So it was no surprise, really, that despite consistently being filled with talented players, the club had struggled to reclaim the top-flight title.

That failure served as a clear lesson for Richard.

It was precisely why, from day one, he made high-performance management a cornerstone of his vision. He began by recruiting experts like Andreas Schlumberger and Dave Fevre, laying the foundation for a club culture that could withstand both injury crises and internal complacency.

His team-building philosophy at City was simple but uncompromising: Elite medical care. Unshakable discipline. No exceptions.

In conclusion—with everything considered—Richard allowed himself to relax, just a little. He felt confident about this match. Right now, Liverpool was no longer the unstoppable giant of old. Their flaws were real, and he knew them well.

PHWEEEE!

A loud, drawn-out whistle snapped Richard from his thoughts about Liverpool's future.

In the live broadcast studio, the Sky Sports commentators, Andy Gray and Martin Tyler, were—as expected—immediately fired up. Having learned from the Manchester derby, they were clearly excited for this match.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fourth fixture of the English Premier League! We're live from Anfield for a thrilling clash between the Reds, Liverpool, and the visiting side, Manchester City. While the visitors were seen by many as just a newly-promoted team, they've been turning heads this season with a bold and relentless style of play—even nearly sinking Manchester United at Old Trafford!"

"Now, let's take a look at the starting lineups. Manchester City are going with Buffon in goal; Zambrotta on the left, Materazzi and William Gallas in central defense, and the debutant Spaniard, Joan Capdevila, on the right. In midfield, it's Mark Van Bommel, Neil Lennon, and JackieMcNamara, with Ronaldo, Larsson, and Shevchenko leading the attack. It's a very different lineup from what we saw at Old Trafford. Could City be underestimating Liverpool here at Anfield, Andy?"

"Definitely not. I heard some of their players might be called up for the Olympics, but we don't know exactly who yet. Still, with the absence of Zanetti and Okocha—especially after how well they played recently—it's not hard to guess."

"Thanks for the explanation, Martin. Now let's take a look at the home side—Liverpool are sticking with the same eleven from their last three matches. David James starts in goal; the back three consists of Mark Wright, Phil Babb, and Dominic Matteo. In midfield, it's Bjørnebye, John Barnes, Jamie Redknapp, and Jason McAteer. And leading the line: Patrik Berger—Liverpool's summer signing from Borussia Dortmund—joins Steve McManaman and Robbie Fowler in attack."

"Patrik Berger, who arrived this summer, is still trying to find his rhythm. Liverpool's interest in him was sparked by his standout performances for the Czech Republic during Euro '96, where he scored a well-taken penalty in the final. Interestingly, Andy, Liverpool initially approached both Berger and Karel Poborský. While Poborský ultimately chose to join Manchester United, Berger accepted Liverpool's offer and completed a £3.25 million move."

"If he keeps this up, his stock will only rise. But enough with the preamble—Fowler gets us underway, and the match has kicked off at Anfield! Sit back and enjoy what promises to be a fierce showdown between the Reds and the Sky Blues!"