Apologies if this is long winded and premature but like all good movies the ending is left hanging.
A very sobering thought writing and publishing this on here, as if the titleâs pendulum had swung our way I would have taken a break from posting. Words would certainly fail me in order to begin describing the emotions running through my head, as if my mind was a Japanese bullet train having euphoric excessive and different kinds of parties in each carriage. Many emotions can not be translated and felt by others through the world wide web â even though as Reds we all share them in our ârealâ lives.
However, Runners-up can just about be summed up into words and the emotions of the season that has just gone can more simply be conveyed, given our final standing, even though we have still stepped off the bullet train of high, low (less so) rapid footballing emotions.
The season ends, and an air of depression already starts to set-in for the average football fan throughout the English summer. It really does put a downer on the summer even though the long cold drawn out winter nights are balanced, come what may, with a fix of substance â Liverpool Football Club.
Thatâs right folks, not even the Three Lions and their glorified faux national patriotism cannot fill the vortex left by LFC. Too much emotional investment week in week out has left one not only clucking for more but also disinterested in any kind of replacement. Analogous (I presume) to a skag head in desperate need of a fix but only being able to purchase a bag of Skunk â watching the England team just wonât hit the spot *sigh*.
So, before we move on, into time where our substance is repacked, reprocessed and quality approved for the next session, we should reflect and dwell on the imminent comedown with expressive pride and delight for what we have all recently been a part of.
Just before this absorbing season started my hopes locked away in that grey matter of mine were that we would clinch 4th spot, or even 5th with the notion of being content for 5th, so long as we had a good f**king go at 4th. Funnily enough most of this season has been a bit of a blur, just as is the case when one is intoxicated on any kind of substance. Though the Stoke game right from the starting point and in particular âthatâ save Mignolet made from Walters (IIRC) appeared to be a very premature but pertinent moment for the season ahead. I thought that at the time too, I remember thinking it would be pivotal and today have no other reason to think otherwise. That moment, embedded unity and collective determination into a team/squad that had seen new faces immediately embraced into an ethic that largely would forge our resilience for the season ahead. That save, was the perfect harmoniser and it couldnât have happened any sooner in order to see a group of individuals become one determined unit. That save, in my opinion played its part in the next few games, where character and resilience were the essence of our wins. And while it got some criticisms, or questions about our âtacticsâ the results trumped this brief style as Rodgers & co were finding their feet early on. At the time, I think many expected the baton to simply be picked up and carried on like Linford Christie in the homestretch of a 4 x 100m relay from last season. Honestly, I didnât know what to expect. Iâve often given up expecting and predicting things because as other like minded armchair experts can attest football is an uncertainty. Therefore, I was just glad we grinded out those results even though I was sick of hearing criticism and questioning of Rodgers & co at the time. I do think some fans genuinely expect things to go the way they envisage and almost demand the reality of the game, to be played out the way they see it in their minds. Football is excessively diverse and an unpredictable a sport in which to do that, something Iâve reluctantly come to learn. Sometimes, going in with an open mind is a better way to appreciate the final product, hard I know, as no doubt Iâll contradict that next season if I stick around.
I digress, the season unfashionably started well for us and it was a glimpse of things to come. August and September were good months even though the Mancunian Moths inside Castle GreySkull dumped us out the league cup, the bitter sweet pill was that we did them at Anfield in the league just a couple of weeks beforehand with one of those gritty performances the French Resistance would have been proud of.
The first real downer was away to Newcastle where we played 5 at the back and failed to get a winner against 10 men barcodes. Questions arose about the formation and lack of bodies further up the pitch to break an opposing team down. And questions were already starting to emerge whether the Red half of Merseyside could mount a serious challenge for top 4. It was a disheartening result that while on the LFC substance gave us a dose of reality.
At the end of October, November and very early December those weeks were like a premenstrual cycle test for men. Donât worry ladies we certainly now how your emotions are all over the place and can relate to that, without, just about the bloodshed. We tonked WBA 4-1, lost to Arsenal with an insipid display at the Emirates 2-0, battered Fulham 4-0, drew with Everton at Woodison 3-3 (that Sturridge header was fantastic!), then lost to Hull 3-1. That and the Arsenal game for me were real downers, and even being joyous for Dannyâs Exocet guided header, it was still a little disappointing to get a draw against the bitter DVD makers.
Turmoil was probably brewing around the forum at this time looking at those results, no doubt, and no doubt, I had my hand in a fair share of internet wars with other Reds. But this is what the substance can do to oneself, it can make you turn on, and argue with your own such is the strength of LFC and football in general, that it makes each individual view the game from a different perspective. Some peopleâs lows are lower than othersâ are and they have to air and vent their frustration, even if it means taking it out on fellow Reds to make defeat feel a little better for a nanosecond of the moment. Other peopleâs highs are higher than others and perhaps over emphasise the win and itâs importance at the risk of being labelled âcocky and arrogantâ by rival fans for daring to dream â yeah f**k off, thatâs what some of us call support. There is no divine right here thinking the league should be ours, just support in wanting our team to accomplish that goal! You or your club may do that by spending billions, or by waving plastic flags with monotonic â80âs football chants. Or by eating prawn sandwiches and flying planes over your hovel in disgust, or failing to fill up your stadia. Alternatively, by singing songs about other teamsâ playerâs and hoping your team loses to spite your rivals, but Reds fans do it our way and if that originality and wit grates you, then good f**king job!
From there, the festive season was embarked on with some seasonal displays that would eclipse the presentâs - frankincense, myrrh and gold brought in that mythical story. Rodgers & co delivered their own presents leading up to Christmas day with a 5-1 home drubbing of Norwich and a 4-1 pasting of West Ham three days later. For many, 8 days later would make us and others stand up and take real note of LFC for the first time this season, not me at this point I must admit, as I couldnât pin point the feeling in honesty. I was too busy enjoying the ride that this substance was giving me in the middle of one of the carriages on the bullet train to contemplate such thoughts. We went to White Hart Lane and shredded a team that were supposed to be our direct rivals for 4th spot with an emphatic and brilliant display of football resulting in a glorious 5-0 win for the Reds. Iâll never forget Flannaganâs goal and Raheemâs subsequent perve at Johnoâs semi!
BOOM. The boxing day hangover was compounded by an unjust result in my opinion that saw us go toe-to-toe, punch-to-punch with the title favourites on their own patch. IIRC, the team were brilliant without our magnificent captain and a shitty decision by the man in Black saw a perfectly legitimate Sterling goal ruled out for offside. Bollocks, you could have fitted a âf**king jumbo jet in there Tyroneâ to see that young Raheem was onside, yet the officials had other ideas. And the taking of the proverbial biscuit in my view was the horror goal that Mignolet had let in against a limp wristed effort by Negrado. Our keepers form had taken a turn for the worst and in a game of such magnitude your team will get undone if everyone isnât on top of their game, unfortunately, from memory, Mignolet was the only one really and we paid the price, along with some dreadful officiating.
Three days later, saw an equally stern test away to Chelsea, while the performance wasnât up there with the Citeh game â in terms of style â Chelsea have a way of bringing you down to their level. The boys put in a solid, gritty performance for the most part. I canât remember too many of the details in this game, Chelsea have a funny habit of making amnesia common, such is their turgid style.
At this point in time, serious questions were being asked, okay we had gone on a run in December, came up with two tough fixtures in the space of three days and most Reds could understand that these two fixtures were big asks. However, the questions were, âwill we respond or turn into shrinking violets?â Did, at this point in time we have the ârequired personnel and fitness of a thin squad to see us through until recruitments came in the upcoming monthâ?
Well, we responded with a 2-0 home victory on New Years Day with revenge against Fat Head and his Tigers. We bounced back â but could we sustain it while we were in apparent need of recruits begged the question. In all honesty again, I donât remember the specifics of the Hull win or the Oldham win 4 days later in the FA cup.
Next up was Stoke on the 12th, and patients were being tested on the transfer front, funnily I remember this quite well and that game at the Britannia. A proper old ding dong that saw us come away from an unhappy hunting ground in recent years where goals for and against epitomised our season. That was the game where we saw Cissoko sweetly strike that ball as well as John Bishop could, for it only to a re-route into the back of the net. What a goal, cometh the hour cometh the man! Adam struck one too for Stoke, nearly as sweetly as our French left back to level it 2-2. Suarez made it four with a lovely placed shot after Gerrard gave us the 3-2 lead with a penalty. Stoke pulled it back to 4-3 (a real roller-coaster of a game now) with 6 minutes to go but unlike the recent capitulation at Selhurst Park, Sturridge finished the game off with a brilliant bit of individual skill. Phew, pants changed.
Villa next and they provided more concern and questions. The keeperâs form was still a worry IIRC, Migâs should have come for a cross and we had to fight to come back from two nil down, character was prevalent. The best was yet to come. After knocking out Bournemouth in the itv match the Reds demolished their bitter blue nose rivals with an emphatic victory of 4-0 which saw brilliant goals from Suarez and Sturridge. Do you remember the eyes on our captain after scoring from that corner? We bounced back and hung in there after the defeats at the Etihad and Stamford Bridge, we werenât going anywhere and even though the transfer window didnât see us bring in new players this thin unit of a squad hadnât given up. Even at this time I didnât envisage what eventually turned out to be, I think I was still, in my head hoping for a top 4 finish. The Rodgers V Martinez debate was well and truly put to bed just as I am, whether it be by the Mrs or the unconscious self on an over indulgent night on the ale. Lights out where thatâs concerned. ZZZzzzz
February saw another emphatic triumph over Arsenal, 5-1 and by now we looked uncompromising in our general play and rampant attacks. Coupled with two goals from Martinâs Skertel, whoâs goal scoring form outdid a certain Nancy Nando down at the Bridge. Not forgetting Sterlingâs brace too, the lad had come on leaps and bounds and was clearly lovinâ it. Meanwhile, the Rodgers âphilosophyâ was getting stronger and stronger like it had been all season.
Another ding-dong and an epitomising display at home against Swansea saw us run out 4-3 winners. At this point beginning of March it started to hit me where we could finally finish, however, I wasnât convinced until we got Southampton at St. Maryâs out of the way first. A good team that have given us plenty to think about, the game was bound to be difficult but the confidence was oozing even if the defence was suspect. After another great game from the Reds I was thinking to myself itâs time to believe like all the other optimistic Reds, donât get me wrong up until then I was enjoying the ride and was well and truly fixated onto the Liverpool substance ofâŚ. Needing more. And more was what we got after we humiliated a mediocre mid-table outfit in front of itâs prawn sandwich eating, fair weather fans with a controlled and dominating 3-0 win over Gollumâs outfit.
Cardiff, Sunderland and Tottenham were up next and these three games really summed our team up this year. In the first game we had yet another bit of a goal scoring ding-dong where the Welsh side managed to put three past us even though we put six past them. Then a gritty grinding performance at Anfield came along against an organised and disciplined Sunderland side where patients and bum twitching in the final ten minutes were the order of the day. Although, I donât order bum twitching as it doesnât do the ticker any good, funnily enough. The lads though, had other ideas and the blood pressure had sharply increased as it had done prior, with such fixtures this season. Then to sum up this Liverpool side we gave Tottenham a second serving of batter-ing and demolished them with a 4-0 with. If Iâd sum our season up with three consecutive games it would have to be this trio, as it had a bit of everything. I was well and truly high now on Liverpool FC and for once, there actually seemed to be a bit of a media love-in for Liverpool. Should have known how quickly those vultures turn, after the Palace game and Citehâs win over Villa, where the boot was quickly swapped to the other foot and the Bluemoon loving started to begin (again). Now even the neutrals were sticking it to us, well, the Chavs, Bitters and Mancs, hardly neutrals (
).
Next up was the reunion of Carroll and Downing with Liverpool, Joe Cole apparently was too busy puffing on 20 Benson & Hedges and warming up the away teamâs dressing room. Carroll was an animal that day, the typical British battering ram, who Iâm sure Hodgson would love to have in Brazil. The Bubbles gave us a run for a our money even if that meant giving one to Mignolet in the face. Carroll clearly had a point to prove but Gerrard proved the ultimate point with a âclass is permanentâ pass to Luis Suarez whoâs defending opposite number could only handle the ball to award us a penalty. Fat Sam had tried everything that day but the character of this team was still there, mettle-d and forged probably due to the small size of the squad.
Man City up next, me f**king nerves were shot in the lead up to this. The Corona & Rum couldnât settle âem, thus, they were only making this Beerbelly bigger and fingernails shorter. We played some lovely football in the first half and really took the game to them and I was hysterical after we took our lead. Ultimately, being the quality side they are they forced their way back into it and did play some lovely stuff to open us up. The dream had gone for a moment there when they equalised. There only looked to be one winner at this point, as I shouted expletives in vein at the TV in the gormless sense and hope that the players would hear this and duly pick themselves up. I must have rattled Kompanyâs cage though because his sliced clearance fell to Coutinho who hit it first time to whip a curl around the outstretched arms of Hart. I cannot describe that moment in words, suffice to say, I was in the bullet train, middle carriage and partying hard! âThis is it, this has got to be our year!â I was thinking which loosely translated by our bitter rivals as 'cocky-ness and arrogance'.
Norwich were desperate to stay up and we played out yet another edgy nail biting win which at the time I put down to more of that Red character. Pundits like Carra and Neville thought different and in hindsight, with time to reflect they may have been right but at the time I couldnât give a flying Nun, we won, end of. Sterling produced another stella performance with a peach of a goal from all of 20+ yards, the lad never looked out of place alongside Suarez and Sturridge and that is some praise for a lad so young.
By now, this rampant Japanese bullet train was being fuelled by some serious Liverpool substance that made nitro look like diesel. Unfortunately, it was just too quick for the old British railway tracks and the heart, head and team seemed to come to an unforseen halt as a tactical âmasterclassâ got in its way. How cruel, only bitters, mancs and chavs could write about the way it came about â a Gerrard slip. Something had seriously gone wrong when the author of that game played out a paper written by three of our bitterest rivals. Why for f**k sake would you do that? The sadist nature of that defeat not only left me fuming but wondering âwhat ifâ and Iâm sure our rivals will revel and rejoice in this emotionally charged and negative perception of Liverpool fans. It appears many were desperate for this to happen and was confirmed when Everton fans (or some of them) were hoping their own team would lose to spite us. We really must grate on some of these other fans.
Next up, was our last away fixture to Crystal Palace a win was vital to keep the pressure on Citeh. Goal difference was clearly also on the mind by the time we went 3-0 up, and rightly so in my opinion. However, the same author, or authorâs who wrote the Chelsea script came back to file and lodge another paper that clearly sought to sober us Reds up. And by Christ it did just f**king that! The highs from this Red substance had somehow, from nowhere simply stopped working, as though someone had ripped us off with some fake sh*t. Sober and numb were the only emotions after this game as I simply couldnât believe what I had just witnessed, again, a feeling I could never put into words and express the pain I had just gone through.
Liverpool V Newcastle
Man City V West Ham
How will it end?
Well, if it ends the improbable way, thank f**k for that, as I wonât/canât carry this long winded blurb on any further and will be off pissing my pants somewhere this Sunday. If however, the sobering and probable happens I think itâs safe to say this season has still been a success but I do hope we get the same quality gear next year and a better set of tracks.
