Champions League Return: A Season of Ups and Downs

The final whistle had barely settled when the reflection began. A season that lurched from promise to pain, from big nights to brutal setbacks, ended with one line that matters most to a club of this size: they are back in the Champions League.

“It’s been up and down,” came the honest verdict. No dressing it up. They won important games, they lost games that cut deep, they staggered through bad runs and clawed their way back again. In the end, the table says they did enough. For a club that measures itself against Europe’s elite, that qualification is non-negotiable.

Yet this was no ordinary sign-off. This was a day of mixed emotions, a day when the future of the club and the weight of its past shared the same pitch. Andrew Robertson and Mohamed Salah – serial winners, standard-setters, dressing-room pillars – said their goodbyes.

“The pair of them are unbelievable lads,” he said, voice catching between pride and sadness. They have “won everything at the club,” he reminded, and for him personally they were more than teammates. They were guides. From the time he was a kid breaking into the squad, they were there, nudging, pushing, demanding. Helping the whole team, but helping him in particular.

So yes, it was “obviously sad” to see them go. How could it not be? But the draw that sealed Champions League qualification gave the day a different edge. It wasn’t just a farewell. It was a bridge to what comes next. Emotional, yes. Also important – “for us, the club and the fans as well.”

The stories behind those tributes tell you why their departures cut so deep.

With Salah, the lessons came wrapped in professionalism. No big speeches, no drama. Just example. “He would always lead and be a professional. He was always the first in the gym, he was always the last out.” That kind of consistency doesn’t just set a tone; it builds a culture.

There was a more personal moment too. When injuries hit and doubts crept in, Salah stepped in quietly. He opened up his own support network, letting his younger teammate use his personal physio away from the club. No headlines, no fuss. Just help. “I respect him even more for that,” he admitted. It’s the kind of detail that rarely makes it into the highlight reels but shapes careers.

Robertson’s influence came with a different edge. The Scot was the voice in his ear, the one who refused to let talent be enough. “He always said that the talent was there and the ability was there, but I had to work harder, and he was hard on me.” At times it felt “a little bit personal.” At times it stung.

But time changes the angle. Maturity reframes the message. “The older I got, the more mature and wiser that I got, I knew it was always with love and that he wanted to see me do well.” That’s how leaders operate in top dressing rooms: not by making it comfortable, but by demanding more.

Between them, Salah and Robertson did more than win trophies. They set standards. They showed what it meant to live at the level this club demands.

From the moment he walked into the senior setup, those standards were non-negotiable. “You had to obey by the rules. You had to buy into what the lads stood by.” That meant working hard every single day, no shortcuts, no off switches. But it also meant something deeper.

“You see it more as a family thing,” he said. At this club, that word isn’t a cliché. It’s a way of surviving the chaos of a season like this one. “It’s not just a football team – it’s more like a family.” You go through ups and downs, you look left and right in the hardest times, and it’s those same faces you see. In the good times, they’re there too. That togetherness started with players like Robertson and Salah. Now it has to outlive them.

“Absolutely,” came the answer when asked if the squad must now keep those standards. There is no choice. The culture they inherited now becomes the culture they must protect.

This season tested that idea to the limit.

“It’s been the hardest time,” he admitted. Not just because of form or results. Because they “lost one of our brothers [Diogo Jota] – a big part of us.” Jota wasn’t only a clinical forward in the final third. He was “unbelievable as a human being and was unbelievable as a player,” a presence around the training ground, a constant source of energy.

On the pitch, there was trust. “In games like that he was always a lad that I thought if I give him the ball, he’s going to go and score at the end and bail us out when we’re in a little bit of trouble.” Every team needs that player, the one you instinctively look for when the clock runs down and the pressure rises. To lose him was a wrench. “I can feel it in me, I feel emotional when I speak about it,” he said. The gap he left was emotional as much as tactical.

The season mirrored that sense of dislocation. They started well. Then came a bad run. Then a response. Then another dip. “It was up and down for the whole of the year.” The kind of campaign that can fracture a group if the bonds are weak.

They held on. “The important thing… that this club is huge by sticking as one.” Players, staff, families, fans – all dragged through the turbulence together. The stands stayed with them. The dressing room stayed tight. That unity carried them to the one objective they could not afford to miss: “it’s important that we got in the Champions League.”

Now the tone changes. The talk turns to what’s next.

“Next year will be exciting again,” he said, with a conviction that felt earned rather than rehearsed. The new signings, those who arrived to fanfare and then had to learn the hard way what this club expects, have now played enough games to feel truly part of it. They know the pace, the scrutiny, the demands. “We’ll see the best of them.”

He’s “excited,” and you can see why. A year of scars, of lessons, of emotional farewells has cleared the stage. The Champions League spot is secured. The dressing room has absorbed its blows and stayed intact. The standards, shaped by figures like Robertson and Salah, are now the responsibility of those they leave behind.

“Next season it should be great,” he said. Not as a boast, but as a target. Put everything behind them. Go again. Play with freedom. Play like a group that has survived the storm and still believes.

The question now is simple: with the old guard stepping away and the next wave stepping up, how high can this family push itself when Europe comes calling again?