Arne Slot made no attempt to hide his anger. As soon as the news broke, he pushed back his chair in the Kirkby training room and demanded an explanation. For months, Liverpool had been working quietly and methodically to secure the midfielder Slot believed could transform his team. Scouts had been dispatched, meetings arranged, and talks with the player’s representatives were progressing well. Everything pointed in the right direction. The player had even shown clear signs of interest. Then, out of nowhere, Manchester United intervened.
It wasn’t a negotiation—it was an ambush.
Slot was told that United had already agreed personal terms with the midfielder. No warning, no courtesy, no recognition of Liverpool’s ongoing pursuit. To Slot, it felt like a slap in the face—not only to the club but to his own effort and vision. He had identified this player as the cornerstone of his new midfield—a leader, a controller, someone to redefine Liverpool’s style. Now United were trying to snatch him away, as though Liverpool’s groundwork meant nothing.
Slot’s reaction was swift and fierce. In his mind, Ruben Amorim knew exactly what he was doing. They were not strangers; both managers understood how transfer dealings unfolded. Slot believed United had been monitoring Liverpool’s progress, waiting for the perfect moment to strike—and that moment had come. To him, this was more than competition; it was a breach of respect. He refused to stay silent.
“There’s no chance I’ll just sit here and watch this happen,” he reportedly told colleagues. “We targeted him first, and Amorim should respect that. If this continues, I’ll take it to FIFA.”
Slot felt that a professional boundary had been crossed. Liverpool had done everything by the book, while United, he believed, had gone behind their back to persuade the player privately—one of football’s oldest, dirtiest tricks. What made it worse was the importance of the signing. This wasn’t just another player. Slot saw him as the heartbeat of his rebuild, the foundation of the team he was trying to create.
Tension filled the training ground. The recruitment staff went silent, phones buzzing nonstop. Some players whispered that United were deliberately trying to provoke Liverpool. Others thought Amorim wanted to destabilize Slot ahead of the season’s second half. Meanwhile, the player himself was torn—attracted by Liverpool’s project but tempted by United’s financial offer, unsure which path would define his future.
Slot didn’t shout or panic, but his message to the Liverpool hierarchy was crystal clear: this transfer could not slip away. Not to Manchester United. Not like this. Losing the player would be more than a setback—it would be humiliation.
The coming days will decide everything. The player must make his choice. Liverpool must respond. Manchester United are watching. The rivalry has turned personal. The tension, emotional.
And with one signature, only one club will emerge unscathed.
