The Mamadou Sakho deal was dead, it died in June when I started the purge, and the 25 million Liverpool asked for then was too much money.
Or at least, it was on life support. The negotiations had hit a brick wall. I was in Dougie's office, the air thick with the stale smell of frustration and cold coffee. He was on the phone with Michael Edwards, Liverpool's sporting director. The conversation was going nowhere.
"Michael, be reasonable," Dougie was saying, his voice strained. "Twenty-five million is not a realistic valuation. He's not in your manager's plans. He wants to come to us. We're the only club he'll sign for."
I could hear the faint, tinny sound of Edwards's voice on the other end of the line. The message was clear: £25m or no deal. It was a power play. Liverpool knew we needed him. They knew he had been a colossus for us on loan. They were trying to squeeze every last drop out of us.
