We all know what the Cathedral der Klopp looks like today, but what went into its construction? The first part of a review of Raphael Honigstein’s Klopp: Bring The Noise.
These days, services at the Cathedral der Klopp are frequent and well-attended. It’s difficult to find an open pew. If somehow this is your first ordinance, hopefully, you can find some standing room in the back beneath the wonderful murals overflowing with vibrant colour.
We all know what the inside of the cathedral looks and feels like these days: grandiose, yet familial; optimistic, yet realistic; insightful, yet simple; passionate, yet warm. With a wide, toothy smile underneath a slick pair of frames.
Before the window panes were artfully illuminated, depicting dizzying summits like back-to-back Bundesliga titles in the face of the serpent that was Bayern Munich; before the formation of his long list of disciples, as countless players, current and former, would be correctly described; before the pews grew to accommodate passionate followers from the Bruchwegstaion to Signal Iduna Park, then Anfield—what was the journey like?