A Clash of Titans

The UEFA Champions League group-stage draw was out. Some were delighted; others, far less so.

Of course, that happened after the draw every year. Nothing new there.

Liverpool were firmly among the delighted.

Their draw this year really was good.

At least, Chen Anno thought so.

It wasn't that Liverpool feared anyone.

With the squad they had now, no opponent would intimidate them.

The important thing was that Liverpool were fighting on multiple fronts.

Between the league, the UEFA Champions League, the FA Cup, and the League Cup, their season was packed.

The easier their Champions League group, the more energy they could devote to everything else.

And weaker opponents meant less intense matches, which meant a lower risk of injuries.

For a team determined to defend its title, that was the most practical benefit of all.

Holding the Silver Underpants, Chen Anno boarded the team bus with his teammates and headed for the airport.

On the bus, he took out his phone.

The team chat already had 99+ new messages.

Mane: "Damn! We're going to Russia? I hear it's freezing there. Are we going to need hot-water bottles on the pitch?"

Robertson: "Hot-water bottles? Sadio, I know you're from Africa, but you can't be that afraid of the cold."

Mane: "Screw you. You know I'm from Africa, so how could I not be afraid of the cold? Sending me to Moscow is a death sentence!"

Achraf: "As someone from Morocco, I understand."

Keita: "Guinea here. Same boat."

Salah: "Egypt here... Actually, winters in Egypt get pretty cold too."

Milner: "You African lads can huddle around a heater together when we get there. Make an evening of it."

Van Dijk: "As someone from the Netherlands, I say a little cold is good for you. Keeps your head clear."

Lovren: "Speaking