In between, he had signed jerseys — “I don’t know how many, but everyone has one now,” he said — kept countless media commitments, shaken endless hands, received thousands of messages from well-wishers. He had found that particularly difficult, especially intense. “It’s been a lot,” he said.
Throughout it all, the prospect of his final appearance at Anfield had cast a pall. Klopp knew he would have to address the crowd. He would have to say goodbye to his . He would have to make it real.
At times, during the game — a carefree, sun-drenched win against Wolves — he had dreaded what was to come. The crowd serenaded him ceaselessly. Fans brandished dozens of flags emblazoned with his name. Each of his players came to him for one of his signature hugs; all of them lingered. He started to worry, he admitted, that he would be “in pieces,” unable to speak.
He had no need. When the moment came, Klopp had Anfield in the palm of his hands, as he has for almost a decade: He had them at hello, and he had them at goodbye. He demanded the fans chant the name of his replacement. They complied. He told them to be “all in, for the first day.” They roared. He told them the future was bright, that what comes next will match what went before.
“Nobody tells you to stop believing,” he told the crowd. “I believe, because we have you: the superpower of world football.”
