On the afternoon of October 28, Lynn led his team to Liverpool. At seven that evening, Swansea arrived at Liverpool's ho ground, Anfield.
The players went out onto the pitch for their warm-up, waiting for the League Cup round-of-sixteen tie to begin at eight.
During the warm-up, the Swansea players looked around at the stands of the stadium, unable to stop a sense of awe from rising in their hearts.
To countless unknown players, Anfield was a sacred temple of football.
The Theatre of Dreams, Old Trafford, had only beco especially dazzling in the Premier League era. Before that, only the Busby Babes of Bobby Charlton's generation had given Old Trafford its legendary aura.
But Anfield?
Before the Premier League era, the number of top-flight league titles Liverpool had won here was enough to leave people speechless, leaving many other giants far behind. Even after Manchester United rose to dominance in the Premier League era and Liverpool struggled desperately for a league title, United were still so distance away from Liverpool's total number of top-flight championships.
Not to ntion that at Anfield, the Reds were England's representative club in battles beyond the country's borders. They were the English club with the most European Cup titles!
They had once ruled European football, their na spreading far and wide, terrifying the great powers of the continent.
Here lay the legacy of the legendary Shankly, the continuation under Paisley, and the iconic figure of Dalglish.
This was not an ordinary stadium. This was a temple that had influenced countless supporters and generations of young players.
As Swansea's players ward up, they could not help marveling at Anfield's grandeur. At least since the new season began, Anfield was the largest stadium they had visited, even though in European football, its capacity was not actually among the biggest.
At the sa ti, Swansea's players also felt reverence. It was as though countless legendary figures drifted in the sky above Anfield. Whenever the Reds went into battle, those legends might descend and possess the players. One Liverpool hero after another would appear, always destined to be compared with the greats who ca before them.
Lynn stood in the players' tunnel.
Anfield's tunnel was very narrow. If two strong n stood side by side, it would almost be impossible for them to walk through together. Near the stairs, he saw the famous words left by Shankly:
This Is Anfield.
The legendary Reds boss had left many precious legacies for Anfield. Beyond Liverpool's spirit and the Boot Room tradition, there were also the symbols visible throughout the stadium. This famous phrase was one of them.
Once upon a ti, Anfield had been the most terrifying fortress in England and even Europe. Countless teams had lowered their heads here. Many teams arrived at this place, saw the words This Is Anfield, and already felt their fighting spirit drop by several degrees.
With only a single sentence, Shankly had turned Liverpool's dominance into a label. Not only was it rooted deeply in people's hearts, it intimidated all who ca.
Lynn crossed his arms and stared at the words. Suddenly, he lowered his head and muttered to himself.
Assistant coach Hughes walked to his side and heard what Lynn was saying.
"This is the Liberty Stadium?"
"Welco to the Swans? Why does that sound like a tourist reception?"
"The Swans are watching you? Too childish…"
Lynn spoke in all kinds of tones. Hughes stared at him in astonishnt. "What are you doing?"
"Whoa! You heard all that?"
Lynn was startled. After turning and seeing Hughes, then seeing him nod, Lynn laughed awkwardly to cover his embarrassnt and pointed at the slogan on the wall.
This Is Anfield.
He said, "It looks cool. I was thinking whether we should put a powerful slogan in the players' tunnel at the Liberty Stadium too."
Hughes laughed. "Just hang your picture on the wall beside the tunnel. That should be enough."
Lynn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, that's a good idea!"
"Huh? I was joking. Don't take it seriously!"
"Of course I know. Sigh, classics are often created unintentionally. If you try too hard, it loses sothing."
In the end, Lynn shook his head and gave up on the idea.
He turned and patted Hughes on the shoulder. "Let's go. The match is about to start. Back to the dressing room."
After the players finished warming up on the pitch, they returned to the dressing room. Lynn looked at the slightly quiet room and asked in confusion, "What are you doing? Why is everyone so silent? Aren't you usually very energetic?"
Cromwell looked up at Lynn and said, "Boss, don't you think Anfield is amazing?"
Lynn frowned. "It's not bad. What about it?"
Cromwell lowered his head and said quietly, "Look, the Liberty Stadium's capacity isn't even half of Anfield's. The facilities aren't as good as Anfield's either. And Anfield's grass feels amazing…"
Before he could finish, Lynn walked over and smacked him hard on top of the head, scolding, "What are you saying? Since Anfield is so good, do you want to stay here after today's match? Should I dig a hole for you by the pitch so you can live inside and beco neighbors with the moles? You'd even get to watch matches for free. Have you never heard the saying? A son doesn't despise his mother for being ugly, and a dog doesn't despise its ho for being poor!"
Lynn chased Cromwell around the dressing room, hitting him as he went. Although he was not necessarily truly angry, there was also a warning hidden within it.
Unintentionally, Cromwell had touched Lynn's bottom line.
Because Lynn was very afraid of big clubs coming to poach his precious talents, and part of what Cromwell had just said was exactly where Swansea could not compete with big clubs.
Whether Lynn admitted it or not, the Liberty Stadium was there in west Swansea, near the city center. It simply could not compare with Stamford Bridge, Anfield, Old Trafford, White Hart Lane, or even Highbury, which Arsenal were preparing to abandon — let alone the ho grounds of Europe's other giants.
Cromwell dodged around the dressing room while Lynn chased him. Holding his head, he suddenly shouted, "Boss, you didn't let finish! I wanted to say that Anfield is great, but if Liverpool lose at ho, that scene would definitely be very interesting!"
Lynn stopped.
As Cromwell walked back toward his seat, Lynn straightened his suit and smiled at everyone.
"I know you're nervous. After all, this is Anfield, and after all, this is Liverpool. But you should feel a lot more relaxed now, right?"
After watching the little drama of the manager disciplining the captain, the players had indeed relaxed considerably.
Lynn said to everyone, "All right, don't be nervous. Maybe we actually have a big chance to win today! Liverpool are fighting on multiple fronts in the Premier League. Today, they have ho advantage, and we are a team from the fourth tier of English football. There's a good chance they'll underestimate us. If they send out substitutes and young players, then at the very least, it will be a fifty-fifty match. Now then, let's go and cause chaos at Anfield!"
Cromwell was the first to raise his fist and shout, "That's right! Let's cause chaos at Anfield!"
The other players were stirred up, their blood surging. They clenched their fists, ready to go out and fight.
Lynn, together with the coaching staff and substitute players, walked into Anfield first.
When he stood at the side of the pitch, many Liverpool supporters in the stands behind him began mocking him.
"Hey, Mr. Delusion, didn't expect you'd actually co back! And you even brought a team? This world really is crazy. Even madn can beco football managers now!"
"Haha, he really is sothing. He was thrown out of the stadium and still managed to co back, and he went from supporter to manager! Hey, weren't you a die-hard Liverpool fan? Then kneel down at Anfield today and hand us victory. Actually, you're a Reds spy inside Swansea, aren't you?"
"Swansea? My God, he actually ran off to Swansea in Wales. Didn't see that coming."
Compared with so vile supporters who would directly curse him, Liverpool fans were still relatively polite.
They used civilized words to humiliate him!
Lynn closed his eyes.
The night wind carried the mighty singing of the Reds supporters.
You'll Never Walk Alone.
A hundred emotions surged in Lynn's heart. In the song that sotis sank low and sotis rose high, he felt as though he were drifting across an endless sea.
More than thirty thousand people singing together inside one stadium — unless one experienced it personally, it was impossible to understand what that felt like.
If you were a Liverpool supporter, it was naturally overwhelming and majestic.
But if you were the enemy, you would feel unprecedented pressure here.
Most importantly, it created a suffocating feeling.
It was as though the supporters' cheers and singing had ford an invisible force descending from the sky, like an unseen palm pressing down on the top of one's head. It made one unable to lift their head, unable to straighten their back, unable even to breathe.
It made a person want to rise up, roar, and bellow, to scatter all that invisible pressure!
When Lynn opened his eyes, the starting players of both teams had already co out.
After seeing Liverpool's starting lineup, Lynn's eyes suddenly widened, filled with disbelief.
Instinctively, he looked toward the ho dugout. There, the Frenchman Gérard Houllier, Liverpool's manager, sat as steady as a mountain.
About half a year earlier, Lynn and Houllier had t face to face.
He had not expected them to et again so soon!
Lynn was ambitious and extrely confident, but he had not reached the point of blind arrogance.
He knew that Swansea coming to Anfield today could not be considered his chance for revenge!
But that did not an Swansea had no opportunity.
As he had said in the dressing room, Liverpool might very well be careless and underestimate them!
But what was the result?
As Lynn looked at Liverpool's starting lineup, a chill burst through his heart.
Liverpool had gone all out with their main force!
Westerveld, the Netherlands' number two goalkeeper!
The three Reds stars from their own academy all started: Carragher, Gerrard, and Michael Owen, the lightning-fast prodigy who had made his na at the 1998 World Cup!
Finland and Switzerland's top centre-backs, Hyypiä and Henchoz.
Norway's heavy cannon, Riise.
German international Hamann.
England's powerful local Black King Kong, Heskey.
Scottish veteran captain McAllister.
Czech international Berger.
Lynn had not expected Liverpool to completely ignore Swansea, but this starting lineup was a bit too much, wasn't it?
The Reds of Liverpool and the Swans of Swansea were separated by two different worlds!
Liverpool looked down from the Premier League at Swansea.
Swansea looked up from Division Three at Liverpool.
Between them were Division Two and Division One!
Today was the League Cup round of sixteen, not the Champions League round of sixteen!
Liverpool's starting lineup shattered Lynn's hopes.
He could only see whether Liverpool would show any carelessness in the match itself.
Although Houllier sat on the bench, he occasionally glanced at Lynn.
He felt that this world was far too mad.
A few months ago, this supporter, treated as a lunatic, had rushed onto the pitch, co before him, and vowed that he wanted to work for Liverpool and help him build the strongest Reds side in Europe!
Houllier, already past fifty, could not possibly believe such words so easily.
Unexpectedly, only a few months later, the Chinese man who had been driven out of Anfield had actually returned with a team as Liverpool's opponent!
This was probably the strangest thing Houllier had ever encountered in football.
If Lynn had not once rushed onto the pitch at Anfield, Houllier would definitely have fielded a rotated lineup today and given his main players a rest.
A Division Three team — what was there to fear?
No matter how impressive Swansea were in Division Three, no matter how strong their montum seed, a Premier League team would not take them seriously!
They were not even in the sa weight class.
But Houllier had to consider one thing.
If the Reds suffered an upset at ho against Swansea, he would lose all face!
Yes. If he were defeated by a team led by Lynn — whether that team ca from Division Three, Division Two, Division One, or even the Premier League — Houllier would beco a laughingstock on Fleet Street and across English football.
All the humiliation Lynn had once endured would be transferred onto him!
So he had no choice but to take this match seriously. It was not that he feared Lynn or Swansea, but because caution could keep a ship sailing for ten thousand years.
Liverpool could suffer an upset.
They could et their Waterloo.
But they absolutely could not fall at Lynn's hands!
Behind Houllier's calm gaze hid his determination to win this match.
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