My Road to Liverpool

Do me a favor. Close your eyes and think of the place that’s most special to you in the world.

Good?

Maybe you pictured the house you grew up in or the pitch behind your school. Maybe you pictured Anfield on a Champions League night.

Places like that, it’s more than just the bricks and stones, right? They’re sacred.

I’m going to tell you the story of a house my dad built in Lomé, Togo. In a beautiful way, it’s the story of everything … my family, my football mentality… even the season we’ve been putting together at Liverpool.

It’s funny because sometimes you will do an interview on TV, and someone will ask you, “What’s been the story of this season?”

And in 10 seconds, you have to sum up so many things. Instead, I hope you can give me 10 minutes, so I can tell you about something real.

But first, before I tell you about this house, you need to understand something about my father. Dad is a character. He’s … well, he does things his way. I remember I came home from a match last season, and I didn’t have a great performance. Not bad, just not great. It was one of those cold, rainy Liverpool days, and all I wanted to do when I got home was chill. But my dad wasn’t having it. Before I even got my shoes off, he said, “Son. Outside.”

I said, “Huh?”

He said, “In the garden. Let’s go.”

So I grabbed a ball, and we went out into the garden. It was already dark, and it was still raining.

Any error I made, we repeated the exact situation, just like how we used to practice when I was a kid.

He said, “OK, I’ll be Salah.”

And he ran over to the right wing, and recreated the same scenario from the game.

“OK, let’s do it right this time.”

I am not being funny! This is real. He does this all the time. I’ll come home after a Champions League game, and Dad will be waiting.

“Ah, you have some time for me today?”

I say, “Yes, yes, come.”

And then we go to my garden and practice some mistake I made 10, 20 times, until I can do it with my eyes closed. He’ll usually ask one of my brothers to come as well to play as the defender …. Dad’s almost 60, now, to be fair. So he can’t always be Rúben Dias!

But that’s Dad. He’s been like that since he moved to Eindhoven, after meeting my mom back in Togo. She was a Dutch national rugby player and had gone on a backpacking trip through Africa with a few friends in the ’80s. They took buses all the way through the Sahara, and somehow, she ended up at the same bar, in Togo, as this charming, smooth talking local guy. A former Togo footballer. And the rest is history.

After 40 years working in Holland .... You can say dad did alright. Better than alright. When I was a little kid, around the time I started at the PSV youth academy, he started building this dream house back in Lomé.

Fast forward to years later, and I’m playing for the senior team. One day, we were all in the dressing room just chillin’, and the house came up in conversation. Keep in mind, two of the guys in the dressing room came up with me in the youth team, and they had heard this story of “the house” since we were seven! Anyway, one of the older guys asks, “Oh, you building a house in Togo?” And I was like, “Yeah.”

“How long you been building?”

Now, you have to understand, this was a very diverse dressing room. You got guys whose parents came from everywhere — Congo, Curaçao, Suriname. So everyone’s got a dad or an uncle who’s been building that “dream house back home” for a long time.

But there’s years … and there’s YEARS.

My guys were right there, so I couldn’t lie! I knew they were glancing at each other, straining their faces, trying not to laugh.

I mean, I was 18! I had been hyping this house up since I was seven!!

I told my teammates, “How long? Oh I don’t know ... like ... 12 years.”

“Twelve what?”

“Twelve years. Little by little, you know?”

Everybody was cracking up. They made a little bit of fun of me for a while after that.

But that was the tempo Dad went. It was his passion. When there was more money coming in, building went faster, of course. For the longest time, though, it was like a snail.

I learned over time, that’s exactly how all the best things in life have to happen.

Slow and deliberate. Brick by brick.

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“Come, come!”

When I heard Dad booming like this from the living room, I knew I was about to get an important lesson.

He would be sitting in front of the computer. On the little screen would be black and white clips of ’60s Pelé or his idol Maradona, all of the legends he grew up with. Regardless of the eras they played in, he would point out small details I could learn from.

The black and white has this weird affect on kids, you know? It feels like going through a time machine.

Dad would say, “You see what he does there? Watch closely.”

He wanted me to take the tiniest little pieces here and there, and adapt them where I could. Now, you could give me footage from the 1920s, and I can still find some aspect to add to my game.

In our neighbourhood in Stratum, you had the projects on one side and nice houses on the other. A rough neighbourhood beside a rich neighborhood. And my family? We were right in the middle.

One of my best friends to this day, he lived over in the rough neighborhood, and  that’s where we played football, at the Johan Cruyff Court. In the summers, we would play and play, attempting the moves of Dad’s idols, until the sky went from blue, to orange, to black.

My dad made me into a student of the game, but it was my mom who made me believe. You can tell your mom anything, right? Like I said, she was a former rugby player, so she was a strong woman, but she was also very loving and kind. Every time I’d tell her my crazy dreams of being a pro footballer, I remember she was never like, “Oh, we’ll see,” how parents sometimes are. She supported me and made me feel like I could do it. I don’t think I even realised how important that was back then, but now it means the world to me. I know I have a special mom.

Before long, I joined the PSV academy. In a way, it was almost like the boarding schools you see in TV shows. You’re there every day, from afternoon to night, so the coaches and the staff have such a big influence on how you grow up. But my dad didn’t always see things the same as them. There was no conflict or anything like that, he just wanted to teach me his own things as well. Even though his son made it into the academy, he still wanted to be Dad, you know?

So he continued to train me.

We played on Saturdays, and my mom and dad would be standing on the sidelines, with Mom cheering unconditionally and Dad watching with his critical eye, looking for ways to improve. 

If it was a good game, we’d talk about the match the whole day. When the game is not so good, you don’t say much. From the quiet is how I knew I was going to be in trouble the next morning.

The next day, if I played good, I’d get up at eight. If I played bad? I was under the covers until 2 p.m., just time-wasting! Once I went downstairs, we were going to the pitch to “correct our mistakes.”

He’d pass me that same ball, and we’d do that over and over again. Some days, it was one hour on the pitch, some days three. Some days I saw the sun rise on one side of the goal, and set on the other.

I was at the academy from a very young age, so basically my whole life played out on that pitch and in that dressing room, in those halls.

And sometimes, odd stuff happened. That’s the only way I can explain it. Nothing personal, nothing bad…. Just odd.

I’ll give you an example.

One time when I was with the U12s, they were deciding the players that were good enough to go up. I knew based on my performance, I should go. So, Coach starts calling names, right? He says the first one. It’s not me. Then he says another… And another…. And another…. Still no Cody. Then it’s over. That’s it. Wait, You say five names, and don’t call my name?? On the outside, I’m cool. I’m chillin’. On the inside I’m fuming.

What is this???

I go home and talk with my dad. Dad always had the game plan. Boss mentality. He’s like Tony Soprano. He listened. He asked questions. (“This coach.... This whatever-his-name-is.... What did he say next?”) He always wanted the full story, every detail. I told him what I said, what they said. Finally, Dad gives me the strategy.

“You know what? We do nothing. Tomorrow’s the game. We just play and score.”

So the next day, I scored a hat trick.

After the game, the coach said to me, “Gakpo. You can go up to the U13s tomorrow as well.”

I asked him right then, “Why didn’t you say my name yesterday?”

“Oh, we were curious how you and your family would react.”

I’m like, Huh????

Listen, at the time, I’m only 12.

At 12, you’re taking everything at face value. You don’t understand mind games. If I had reacted in a way they didn’t like, I don’t know…. Maybe they would label me as a problem, and suddenly I’m not in the academy anymore. I learned at that moment that it was possible to fail a test I didn’t even know I was taking. But my dad always put it like this: “Do we let that affect us or not?”

I didn’t try and guess why the mindgames at the academy were happening. There is a shadow aspect that you can’t always see. There is “politics.” Maybe this all sounds a little strange to outsiders, but other footballers with a similar background will know what I mean. You have parents and players who give gifts to the coaches and all sorts of things. Those that were willing to please the coaches in this way were always one step ahead of me.

Do we let it affect us or not?

I realised early that if it was a race to the top, I wasn’t going to whine or complain or look for excuses. I was going to put my head down and grab some bricks.

So yeah, from age 12 until about 16, it was construction time. I was laying the foundation with the youth team all those years, and then I finally got to realise my dreams of walking out at the Philips Stadion as a senior player, when I was 17. But there’s a big difference between having number 52 on your back and number 11, you know what I mean? I was just trying to tread water and survive! Hahaha. 

It wasn’t until 2020 that my game really took off. That’s when Roger Schmidt took over as our manager, and he lifted us to second place. We were still miles behind Ajax, but the next year, we finished just two points behind, and won the Super Cup final against them. At the time, with Ten Hag and the players they had, they seemed unbeatable. So, that was big. Winning the final against that Ajax team, and then for me to score in that big moment? That will always mean a lot to me.

Around that time, I started hearing rumors of a move to England. Now, everybody who knows me, knows I am a man guided by my faith. So, one day, I had a meeting with the pastor from my church back in Holland, and he brought a friend who was a pastor somewhere else. This other pastor said, “Can I tell you something?” I said of course. This was before any big clubs had come knocking on my door. And he said that God told him that I would go to Liverpool. I kind of laughed it off like, Yeah, nice, we will see about that. There was already a little bit of interest from Manchester United, so I thought, We’ll see.

Then in the summer of 2022, United went for Antony. I was like, What should I do? At this point I could go to Leeds, Southampton, or I could stay at PSV.

I prayed, and I asked God for guidance. But you see, I had to make sure I got his message.

So I said, If I score only one time, I’ll go to Southampton…. If I score two times, I’ll go to Leeds…. If I score three times, I’ll stay.

The next day we played, and I scored twice. I was also involved in a third goal — and at first, it was called as an own goal. Then I was subbed out. So, two goals, right? I thought, Ah, OK, it’s Leeds then. I was at peace with my decision. As I was sitting on the bench, I told my friend, Jordan Teze, who now plays for Monaco, the whole story. He was like, “If God wants you to stay, that own goal will be awarded to you.” It was like a coin toss, waiting to see what they decided. It could have gone either way! But after the game, they gave me the goal. I scored three, so my fate changed. I stayed at PSV.

It’s a funny story, but in a way, that’s a really important piece of the puzzle. Thank God I stayed because that allowed me to play in the World Cup, which led to Liverpool.

And listen, you never forget your first World Cup. The excitement was at another level. It felt like everybody from home was watching. I saw videos of people in Holland cheering for the goals I scored in bars and stuff, which was crazy.

I’ll never forget playing Argentina.

The Battle of Lusail.

What a game. I mean, it was like Game of Thrones with all the crazy plot twists! You didn’t know what was going to happen from one minute to the next. Then just when you thought you knew how it would end….

OK, let me explain.

Let’s start with Messi. So, he usually starts the game by taking it easy, right? Scouts a little, sees where the spaces are, where he can run ... but this time, from the start, he was on. The touch, the moves, the slalom dribbles, he pulled it straight out of the bag. You could literally feel how much this World Cup meant to him. And you can imagine what we were thinking.... It’s gonna be a long day. We knew we were in for a thriller. Then he carried the ball inside, made the killer pass, and they scored. In the second half, Messi scored the penalty, and they went up 2–0.

Meanwhile, on the Dutch side, our main character was still a mystery. When Wout scored the first one, it was like “the big reveal.” 2–1. Then we got a free kick. Wout had already done this free kick routine one time at Wolfsburg, his former team, and we practiced it as well. Teun was taking it, and I was standing there right next to him.

I said, “Just give it a try. You can do this.”

He made contact with Wout, and Wout scored, in the last minute of the game, sending it to extra time. That was insane. It was amazing … just amazing. I’ll never forget that moment. And honestly, I still regret a little bit that we didn’t keep pressing in the extra time. We took our foot off the gas. Everybody was tired. I think if we played like we did before, maybe we could have won, but in the end, it just wasn’t meant to be. It went to penalties, and we were knocked out. It was devastating, and even though I couldn’t process it at the time, looking back now, I played in one of the most memorable World Cup matches ever.

The next day we went home. Then I went to Dubai on vacation.

One night, I’m in my hotel room. It’s like 11 p.m.

My brother Sidney calls with my agents.

“We’re having talks with them now,” he said. “It’s pretty close.”

“Who?”

“Liverpool.”

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It’s funny how when you set out to reach some crazy dream, you have no idea how or when it’s all going to come together, but in the end, when you look back on everything, it all feels a little like destiny.

I love being at Liverpool. I’d heard about the fans — everyone has — but I still was shocked to experience it in person. The excitement for every goal feels a little like the World Cup. And in a strange way, being here gives me that same feeling I get in Eindhoven, or Lomé….

It feels like home.

I don’t think the outside world really expected much from us in the beginning of this season, if I’m being honest. Because last season’s story was, we were great until the last 10 games, and then we messed it up. We knew we were close. We just needed a little bit more, but couldn’t get it. When we started preseason, obviously a lot of guys weren’t here because we had the Euros and the Copa America. And when we played a  friendly with the guys we had, you could see that we were still figuring it out. We weren’t used to this style yet. Then slowly but surely we really felt confident in how Slot wanted us to play.

The first games we were flying. We beat Ipswich and Brentford. But when we went to Old Trafford and won 3–0, that was really the confirmation.

Like, OK, We’re here.

This can really be something.

This process, of course, started under Klopp. Now, Slot is building on that foundation. He’s a very down-to-earth manager. Very calm, composed. You can talk to him about football, life, anything. He’s so good tactically, and I think we fit well in his system. If you look at our midfield — Curtis, Ryan, Dominik, Wataru, Elliot, Alexis — they’re all complete midfielders. They can do it all: Run, win duels, and find each other between the lines. With Klopp we would more often play a long ball and then fight, but now that we’re playing with more patience, and shorter passes, you can fully see how much quality our midfield has.

And by the way, I love that Curtis is getting praised more and more. He’s one of the most underrated players on the team, but his ability on the ball is so good, it’s unbelievable. Ryan gets his praise now, too. And Ibou Konaté as well. His position is very difficult because he plays as the right center back. But because most of the time Trent has to pressure their left back up high, the left winger of the opponent is then alone, and it’s a big space for Ibou to cover. But he always does it well. I’m back on the left wing. I think that the biggest thing Slot did for my game is put me back in that position instead of playing in a more central role.

Basically, it’s all in the details. Those are the sort of things that have to fall into place at the right time. It all has to click.

And I don’t know, I guess that’s why when I sat down to write this, I started thinking about the house in Togo. (It’s finished now, thankfully!).

After I got to Liverpool, I finally had the opportunity to visit Togo for the first time with my brothers.

I remember it was like landing on another planet. We drove through the streets of Lomé, and I was taking it all in, this whole new world.

Then we finally arrived at the house. It was actually real. There were people shuffling in and out with equipment and tools. And my dad was like a patrol telling everyone what to do. Inside, the tiles on the floor were perfectly cut and had these colourful and intricate patterns. It was beautiful.

On that trip, so much about my family finally crystallised for me. Like my brother Sidney, he’s super chill all the time, in any situation. (I’m not like this.) And it’s funny because in Holland, everybody’s always in a hurry. Then we get to Togo, and it’s like Sidney is in a hurry compared to them. Suddenly, it all made sense.

I finally understood something about my dad, too.

I used to think all of his focus on my training was simply because he wanted his small son to reach his dreams, like him. But now, I look back, and I see a deeper meaning. I can close my eyes and see the younger version of my dad, traveling from Togo all the way to Holland, and meeting people who might think they can easily walk over him, or that he doesn’t know what’s going on. But they don’t know he has a strong character, an iron mentality, and he always rises to the top.

And I guess in the end, those were the real lessons he was trying to teach: No matter where you start, you can earn anything through hard work. Never undervalue yourself. And when the going gets tough and the dream feels a lifetime away? Put your head down and get to work.

That’s the “story” of our season in a nutshell. We built this brick by brick. And now, we’re in a good place to really challenge for the title.

When everybody’s fit, we have every position covered with at least two quality players. One strength City had in the last few years is their depth. And I think we have that at the moment as well, which will carry us far … hopefully, far enough to win the league.

My son, Samuël, is not even one year old, but when he is old enough to understand, I will tell him about this crazy Liverpool journey. I think I’ll start back with the 7–0 win against United, in 2023. I’ll tell him how we were in a bad place. And then we had this big game against United, who at the time, were doing better than us. I scored, and we went up 1–0 at halftime. In the second half? Pop, pop, pop. It was historic.

But the most important thing is what happened later, in the dressing room.

We’d gotten our fair share of shit in the months before that game. And I’ll never forget what Virgil said after.

He told us, “Now, we have to stay calm. Don’t go thinking, ‘We won 7–0, we’re the best team again.’ No. We were neutral before. We stay neutral.”

Flash forward to today, and I think we have all the pieces. Now, we just stay calm, as Virgil would say. We stay neutral. But we don’t take our foot off the gas.

Lastly, I will tell Samuël about another battle. One that will not make the history books. I will mention Dec. 14 against Fulham, a massive point for us because we were one man down, 1–0 behind, and still showed everybody what we are capable of. Obviously when we win 4–0, it shows how good we are. But it’s games like Fulham, or like Brighton, when we were 1–0 down, and won 2–1 that really define Liverpool. That’s what we’re building this house on. We are measuring ourselves by the darkest hours because those are the moments that reveal character.

And many times, they bring titles.

The day my son was born was the most important in my life. He’s getting big now. He’s a very busy boy, and he never wants to sleep. But we’ll be alright. He will eventually get to an age where he’s going to understand what Dad does.

For now, I bring him to Anfield, and he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. But it’s OK.

One day, he will know the whole story. One day, he will understand how all great things are built.

And on that day, I will tell him about a house in Lomé.