It’s all spilled out now, me and Liverpool. All that quiet feeling bad is just out in the open for everyone. I sat the whole game on Saturday and I just had to say something. My side of the story. My relationship with the manager Arne Slot is broken, I think that’s clear. It feels like they are making me carry all the problems now.
I said lots of times we had a good relationship, me and him. Then suddenly, we don’t have one no more. That’s the truth. The club sort of threw me under a bus, that’s how it feels to me right now. I earned my place here, I really did. I don’t need to be fighting for it every single day, I don’t think that’s right. My legacy should mean something, you know?
People are talking now. Wayne Rooney and others, they are being very critical of me. Says I got arrogance. But if you was in my shoes, you would see it different. My own teammates maybe are upset by my words, but I am upset too. The fans are split, some get it and some are really angry. They tell me to suck it up but it’s not so simple.
I asked why I was on the bench. I didn’t get no explanations, not really. We spoke a lot already, me and the manager. I don’t think we need another talk. What for? It’s broken. Have I played my last game here? In football, you can never know what happens. But I don’t accept this, how it is.
This is a bad time for all of us. The team isn’t playing like champions now. My own form isn’t my best, people point at that. But I’m still the top scorer right now in the league, remember that. They treat Harry Kane one way when he don’t score, and they treat me another. It’s not fair, I’m sorry Harry!
I’m going to the Africa Cup of Nations soon. Come see me at the Brighton game on the 13th, I’ll be at Anfield. Maybe to say goodbye before I go. I don’t know what happens after that. I love this club, I do. But this ending… it don’t feel good. It just feels sad and angry and over. All the good things we won together, and it ends like this. It’s a shame.
And you know, in training it is a different silence now. Not a focused one. A thick one. When I pass the ball, it feels heavy. Some of the lads, they won’t meet my eye. That hurts more than words from a pundit, honestly. We built this together and now it’s like I’m a ghost in my own home.
I remember after the Champions League final in Madrid, the singing on the plane. My phone was full with messages from Jordan, from Virgil. “Legend” they called me. Now my phone is quiet mostly. Maybe they think I’m being selfish. But my heart is still for the team, even if my head is confused. It’s a lonely feeling when the noise is inside your own helmet.
The newspapers and the TV, they have their story now. They wanted a drama and I gave them a big one. Maybe that was my mistake, talking so open. But when you hold things in your chest for so long, it just comes out. They will sell their papers either way. They don’t have to live with this ache every morning when I drive to Melwood.
So what is next for me? I am not a young kid anymore. I have pride, and I have fire still. Maybe too much fire, some say. The AFCON is coming, and my country needs me to be clear and strong. Perhaps there, with the sun and my people, my mind will find a quiet spot. To remember who I am without this badge on my heart. But that badge, it is part of my skin now. Tearing it away will leave a mark, for sure.
