I could get used to this. It won’t last, but still.
One of the flaws in this column is the weekly search for an epiphany. It makes for a snappy line, makes it feel important, but football’s not like that.
The season lasts 40 weeks. It’d make more sense to await the end, sift through all the evidence, and gauge it accordingly.
In recent weeks, I’ve said we’re great, we’re awful, and now we’re great again. It’s like being a drunk on a bouncy castle. A little tranquillity might be called for.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this absurdly long wait for another league title. It scars everything, infects us deeply.
Watching Liverpool right now should be great fun, but sometimes the focus on what isn’t there takes up too much of our time.
That black depressive cloud follows us everywhere. It was Chelsea-shaped last season, now it’s City, somebody else next year. A past full of predictable supremacy even weighs heavily upon us who weren’t witnesses.
On Saturday, it was obvious where Jurgen Klopp’s Liverpool is lacking. That defence, my God… He’s not only torn up the rulebook, he’s set it on fire and pissed it out. A back three of two midfielders and a defender most fans can’t stand. Call up the reserve left- back for his first game in ages.
Result? 5-1, could have been seven or eight, even their one was a bit fraudulent. Klopp’s making it up as he goes along, aided and abetted by extraordinary attacking talent which is up there with anyone else’s right now.
At Stoke last week, they did something similar. Deafening demands for rotation were met but people still didn’t like what they were seeing.
The injuries keep coming. Matip’s gone missing now and Lallana’s cameo against Chelsea seems like a bizarre public notice that he’s still alive.
Mignolet almost blew it with a stupid challenge but in Brexit-town they yowl for everything; maybe referees just began tuning it all out?
They’ve got the right manager, that’s for sure. The sound of Mark Hughes bellyaching when for once he had a genuine grievance was pure deliciousness.
We left Salah on the bench but he still came on and caused mayhem. Nobody predicted this in August, but it’s still cheeky fun to sneer at those who said he’d be a write-off.
Mané proved how important he really is and the games he’s missed have set Liverpool back. Klopp just dropped him for Brighton and carried on as normal. This is the wild ride he promised.
Firmino and Coutinho must have been feeling left out, so they turned up this weekend. It’s a nice problem to have.
Just when you think you’re able to get by without Phil, he goes and has one of those games. People too busy calculating who we could get with Barcelona’s money. Whatever they offered, we won’t be buying what we’ve already got with it.
The free kick wasn’t a fluke, he’s done it before. He probably is leaving, so an elaborate use of the squad serves to ensure we’ll have plenty left. When Suarez went, he basically took everything with him.
Fifty-five goals so far. Six wins from the last eight, it should have been eight from eight. It’s going well.
Not well enough to be secure, I don’t think you’re ever going to feel that while Klopp’s here. Even at 3-0 on Saturday, the penalty was a grim inevitability and they had other chances too.
But it now feels like moaning is for moaning’s sake. Whenever I write nice things the wheels come off but the team’s erratic; the wheels will come off anyway, no matter what stance you take.
Rationalisation is the danger here. This is the way we are; just accept it; isn’t it great? The three opening lines of a slow, inexorable decline?
That should be enough hoodoo gloom to get us through another tricky week.
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