TERRACE TALK: Liverpool - Nasty end proves Man United can’t even win gracefully

Why is anyone surprised? Actually, is anybody surprised anymore?

This is the way it was, is and probably always will be. Whatever pact they made with the devil seems signed for eternity. Even the healthiest trophy haul of the 70s and 80s sometimes feels like the ultimate set-up.

Mental images of Martin Atkinson’s dismemberment can only dull the pain for so long. After a first half of limp-wristed ineptitude Liverpool couldn’t have complained if the score was beyond them and the referee’s interventions weren’t needed.

United could have been out of sight by half time if they’d remembered to shoot occasionally. What Liverpool were doing until then, only a medium could discover. Dead-legged and dead-headed.

Rodgers was talking about second place and overtaking Man City after Swansea. Wiser men would keep their counsel after scraping three points that way, but not The Thinker. He will not and cannot be silenced.

Obviously, it’s only supporter voodoo that thinks such nonsense matters. That’s the way he is, you just got to roll your eyes and pretend you’re deaf.

The whole myth about not playing well but winning being the sign of a great team got shot down in flames yesterday.

It’s actually a sign that someone was lucky and better work doubly hard to make things right.

Gary Monk was nearly the man with the plan and it was foolish to think someone of Van Gaal’s stature wouldn’t suss it out. The eternal error of waiting until the train’s off the tracks before attempting repairs was alarmingly evident.

Maybe it would have helped if we’d put in the effort United did, as that was the only time they ever looked ruffled.

Everything stuck to Fellaini like glue and he found a team-mate with every pass. Sturridge just waited for service.

We have wing-backs that fill in, in Moreno’s case extremely badly and in Sterling’s case lazily. Good luck with that new contract, son.

Lallana missed the only chance to draw level but it would have provoked more laughter than hysteria, such was the difference in class. Ah well, never mind, here comes Stevie. Oh, and there goes Stevie. ‘Bye…

It’s been a colossal career which he now seems determined to end as some weird Manc Santa. Titles for City, points and unbridled glee for United.

The ref looked to have no option, though it’s an old United tactic to dive in then play dead. Worked for Johnny Evans three years ago and it worked here. It’s been another bad weekend for officials but when you see these performances where the decisions all go one way it’s hard to stomach.

There were headmaster-like discussions when United erred, cards for Liverpool. Jones’ challenge on Henderson was easily as nasty as Gerrard’s but there was a different outcome.

The remaining players gave their all and avoided the dreaded whitewash in our backyard. Mario’s mere presence seemed to stir things up and Sturridge did something right, but it was too much to ask in the end.

United demanded, and won, a penalty. Of course they did, just like off Dowd a few years ago. They can’t even win gracefully, with more mayhem after the whistle. Apparently TV will show this is my bias and not fact. Bugger off, leave me to seethe…

Fair enough, they’d wanted it more all afternoon. That’s what hurt most. Their end was unremittingly nasty, but year on year they never get called on it. It exacerbates the bitterness between both clubs but it’s a tale as old as time and we’re sick of telling it.

One league defeat this year, you’d have taken that coming out of Old Trafford in December.

The beginning of the season is what’s killed us, the much-coveted Champions League place royally screwing things up. We’re still not back to being a big-match club yet. Those days seem a long time gone.

Now let’s play “pass the Europa League parcel” with Southampton.