At halftime, Klopp made his rotation decisions with one eye on the fixture congestion ahead.
Julien was substituted, his work was done and his legs were saved for the battles to come. Coutinho and other squad players entered the fray, fresh and eager to prove themselves. But Liverpool's attacking intensity didn't diminish even slightly.
After the restart, the home side continued to dominate possession and territory almost casually.
West Ham tried to organize counter-attacks, but they couldn't penetrate Liverpool's midfield screen. The ball remained firmly under Liverpool's control; the visitors could only chasing red shadows.
The fifty-eighth minute created Coutinho's moment to shine.
He collected Gerrard's incisive through ball on the left edge of the penalty area, his first touch was taking him away from his marker.
He cut inside onto his favored right foot, and with defenders backing off, he curled an exquisite shot toward the far corner. The ball traced a beautiful arc through the drizzle before nestling into the top right corner of the net, kissing the underside of the crossbar on its way in.
Five-nil, and Anfield's decibel level somehow increased even further.
The seventy-second minute saw Coutinho claim his second in spectacular fashion.
A Liverpool cross from the right was partially cleared by a West Ham defender, but only as far as where he was lurking outside the box.
The ball sat up perfectly for him, and he met it with a venomous first-time strike that cannoned through a crowd of players. The shot had so much power that it seemed to punch a hole through the defensive wall, bulging the net before anyone could react.
Six-nil, and the stadium had fallen into complete delirium.
The massacre was complete.
For the remaining minutes, Liverpool relaxed their tempo looking content to pass the ball around midfield.
West Ham's players had long since lost any fighting spirit, their defensive efforts were half-hearted and their body language was screaming defeat. Some of them looked like they simply wanted the final whistle to end their misery.
The Anfield remained in full voice, the fans' passion was undiminished even with the result beyond doubt.
In the Boot Room pub, fans clinked beer glasses in celebration, discussing Julien's first-half masterclass and Coutinho's explosive cameo.
Someone laughed and roared through the noise: "When both our starting eleven and our bench can score like this, who's going to stop us? We're absolutely unstoppable!"
The final whistle confirmed the scoreline.
Liverpool 6–0 West Ham United.
Liverpool had crushed West Ham in another ruthless display, extending their dominant run through the Christmas fixtures.
Eleven goals in two matches, zero conceded.
The statistics spoke for themselves.
Two consecutive demolition jobs had transformed the mood around Liverpool Football Club completely. What had seemed like a difficult away fixture at Tottenham now appeared almost inviting to the increasingly confident supporters.
Villas-Boas's Spurs had built their reputation on expansive, attack-minded football, playing with the handbrake off and committing men forward at every opportunity.
Meanwhile, Liverpool had just put eleven goals past two opponents without conceding once. The contrasting styles seemed to promise fireworks, and the fans were convinced they knew which way the explosion would go.
In the Boot Room, with pints raised high and voices growing louder with each round, the debate had shifted from cautious optimism to borderline arrogance.
"Villas-Boas wants to go toe-to-toe with us?" one fan shouted over the noise. "That's not bravery, that's stupidity! He's serving us three points on a silver platter!"
Another chimed in, his Liverpool scarf wrapped around his fist for emphasis: "How's Tottenham's defense supposed to handle the Julien-Luis's partnership? Did you see what we did to West Ham? They couldn't get near our front line!"
A third voice, slightly slurred but passionate, added: "This Liverpool team can suffocate you with pressure going forward, and if you somehow break through, you've got Kanté sitting in front of the back four like a brick wall. When Klopp's attacking football meets Villas-Boas's open tactics, it's going to be a massacre!"
The confidence had infected the squad as well.
During a training ground interview, club captain Steven Gerrard spoke with the assured tone looking confident:
"Two big wins in a row has lifted the team's morale to its peak. Our squad depth is excellent, our understanding on the pitch is growing every day, and right now we genuinely believe we can beat anyone. White Hart Lane is never an easy place to play, but we'll be going there with the absolute conviction that we can win."
Suárez, still grinning from his latest goal contributions, added his own assessment directly: "Julien's performances have been extraordinary. Playing alongside him is a genuine pleasure because he makes everything look simple. He sees spaces that others don't, and he creates opportunities out of nothing. Next match, we're going to cause them all sorts of problems."
Even the substitutes had become sources of confidence for the fanbase.
Coutinho's back-to-back substitute appearances had yielded three goals, including a brace in the West Ham thrashing. Fans were convinced that Liverpool's attacking firepower was essentially limitless almost becoming an embarrassment of riches that other clubs could only dream about.
The media had latched onto Liverpool's transformation with predictable enthusiasm.
Headlines screamed variations on the same theme.
"ELEVEN GOALS, ZERO CONCEDED: THE FEARSOME REDS RETURN!"
"ANFIELD FORTRESS REBUILT: KLOPP'S LIVERPOOL STEAMROLL OPPOSITION!"
Match reports shined lyrical about historical equivalents, saying that the Liverpool side which once dominated English football with ruthless efficiency might genuinely be coming back.
Tactical analysis pieces dissected Klopp's system obsessively:
"De Rocca has emerged as the undisputed force in the Premier League. Klopp's positional adjustment has unlocked not just the teenager's scoring ability, but his gravitational effect on opposition defenses. When he drops deep or drifts wide, he drags markers out of position, creating space for Suárez, Sturridge, and the advancing midfielders to exploit. It's tactical devastation, executed with ruthless precision and youthful fearlessness."
The most provocative pieces asked the question beginning to dominate conversations across English football: "Who can actually beat this Liverpool side? More importantly, who will be the first team to hand them their next defeat?"
The Tottenham fixture came with a slightly longer recovery period, a rare luxury during the Christmas congestion.
The match was scheduled for December fifteenth, giving both squads an additional day to prepare compared to the usual relentless turnaround.
On December thirteenth, the day before kickoff, both Liverpool and Tottenham held their pre-match press conferences. The media, sensing potential drama, turned out in force.
For Tottenham, the atmosphere was already toxic.
Two days earlier, while Liverpool were dismantling Norwich, Spurs had salvaged a two-all home draw against Manchester United, ending their losing streak but extending their winless run to four matches. The result itself was almost irrelevant compared to what happened afterward.
During the post-match press conference, manager André Villas-Boas had finally snapped under constant media pressure.
The Portuguese coach engaged in an extraordinary war of words with a Daily Mail journalist created a scene of uncomfortable tension that dominated the back pages.
Since Tottenham's humiliating six-nil thrashing by Manchester City, the Daily Mail had relentlessly pushed the narrative of Villas-Boas's impending dismissal.
Article after article hinted at potential replacements, from Fabio Capello to Luis Enrique, from Michael Laudrup to former Spurs boss Harry Redknapp.
The campaign was unmistakably orchestrated to undermine his position.
By unfortunate coincidence, or perhaps deliberate arrangement, the journalist responsible for these articles, Neil Ashton, had been seated in the front row of the press conference room.
When he posed his question, Villas-Boas's composure completely disintegrated.
"I think this matter is perfectly clear, and I don't need to provide any explanation," he began, his voice was rising with fury.
"Some of you sitting right here have used your pens and your articles to insult my sincerity and professionalism! You've belittled my achievements at other clubs! You don't even bother to understand a person before casually defining their success and character, and in my view, that shows a fundamental lack of respect. It's a complete and utter personal attack!"
The room had frozen, journalists were exchanging uncomfortable glances.
But Villas-Boas wasn't finished. His frustration poured out as he drew comparisons to David Moyes who had struggled at Manchester United early in the season but faced nothing approaching this level of personal criticism.
"I don't want to disparage any fellow manager," he continued, his accent was thickening with emotion, "but if you compare the situations, we didn't see this kind of personal assault when another manager was struggling. Yet after our six-nil defeat, I'm subjected to this treatment? It's fundamentally unfair!"
When Ashton refused to let it go and pressed him on who he had spoken with during that period, Villas-Boas turned the full force of his frustration on him directly.
"You've always been someone who digs for dirt," Villas-Boas shot back, his eyes were blazing. "You love attacking people, claiming they're incompetent when you don't even remotely understand who they are. You shouldn't even have the privilege of sitting in this room. You're only here because I allow it. Your articles are complete nonsense. That's my assessment."
Ashton replied, coolly: "I have the right to express my opinion as well."
The argument continued circling back to whether the Spurs squad should feel ashamed after the City defeat. Ashton pushed back saying, "When you said 'we should be ashamed,' were you including yourself in that?"
Villas-Boas insisted: "I never said the players should feel ashamed. I said we—which includes me, as it always does. We means everyone at this club."
The atmosphere in the room had grown cold.
The press stepped in: "This is not the time for this discussion—"
The exchange transferred further before the club's press officer finally intervened to end the uncomfortable scene. "This is not the time for this discussion—"
The damage was done. Villas-Boas's relationship with certain sections of the media was now openly hostile.
Given that explosive context, Villas-Boas approached his pre-Liverpool press conference with visible wariness. From the opening moments, his expression was severe, his answers were brief and defensive.
The journalists didn't disappoint.
The very first question went straight for the jugular:
"Tottenham tried to play open, attacking football against Manchester City and were beaten six-nil. Meanwhile, Liverpool's new manager Jürgen Klopp, who built his reputation in Germany on exciting offensive football, has just overseen two matches where Liverpool scored eleven goals. So the question is simple: are Tottenham definitely planning to play the same attacking style against Liverpool tomorrow?"
Villas-Boas's jaw clenched visibly. He was on the edge of another explosion.
The journalist, sensing blood in the water, couldn't resist adding a follow-up barb: "Particularly given that Liverpool's squad includes Julien De Rocca, the same player who led French promoted side Bastia to eliminate Tottenham from the Europa League last season..."
The press room held its collective breath, waiting to see if Villas-Boas would detonate again or somehow maintain his composure before one of the biggest matches of Tottenham's troubled campaign.
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