An hour before kickoff, the lineups were released, and the internet exploded. The backlash was instantaneous and brutal. I was on the pitch, watching the team warm up, when Rebecca came over, her face a mixture of concern and amusement. She held out her phone, showing me the social media reaction.
"He's starting a 19-year-old with ZERO experience at Anfield? Has he lost his mind?"
"This is child abuse. He's throwing the kids to the wolves. #SackWalsh"
"Benteke, Zaha, Townsend… and Wan-Bissaka? One of these things is not like the other. What a joke."
I handed the phone back to her, a small smile playing on my lips. "Let them talk," I said, my voice calm. "They're not the ones who have to play the game."
My gaze drifted to Aaron Wan-Bissaka. He was going through his drills with a quiet, intense focus. He looked nervous, his movements a little stiff, but he was here. He was ready. I walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
