Last week I said “your entertainment’s over for the season”. Don’t ever ask me for lottery numbers.
It wasn’t a good day for the ABL brigade. A first-half of hope, but still no booking for Salah. One day, Corinthians, one day.
There then followed a plethora of flukes and deflections. More false hope from an equaliser and Milner’s red, plus a bizarre added five minutes plucked from God knows where.
And still nothing ultimately to show for it. As much as we’re currently ‘suffering’, it feels good to spread the pain.
This must sound terribly paranoid, but when the Wolves manager being sent to the stands turns into a bleat-screech about how Klopp got away with it against Everton, it’s hard to keep the chip off the shoulder. Silence on Townsend’s handball, too.
Only 15 games of this left, if we can last that long. I’m not sure I will.
Injuries are on the rise. You blame the three goals conceded on that if you like, but it was almost comforting to know Liverpool can still aim at their foot and hit the target with both barrels.
Some transfer activity seems the wiser option yet abandoning the FA Cup looks prescient rather than arrogant or slipshod.
Only the renewal of Klopp’s Bayern rivalry next month stands in the way of full focus, it seems.
We’re bound to hear the old moans about not being competitive, how emphasis on one trophy gives you a sneaky advantage over paragons of virtue like Abramovich in the last decade or Mansour in this.
We’re indeed fortunate the spirit of football lies in such noble, secure hands.
Sarcasm aside, it was tedious whenever Mourinho tried to deflate Rafa’s achievements in that way. It never bothered Liverpool fans a bit. Playground points we called them, and Chelsea were welcome to them once we went to three finals at their expense.
None of which will matter if we’ve still got a good chance of winning the league by April but there’s that treacherous ‘if’ again.
Hard to know how to deal with what’s going on. Sixty points so far but still not enough to make anyone slightly confident about a favourable outcome.
It’s not Liverpool if it’s easy. Have that for your next banner.
Palace arrived with a win at City fresh in the memory. Even if they came with a goalkeeper whose creaking joints you could hear from row 13, that still transformed into another ominous signal; Chelsea, 2014, Schwarzer.
The Twin Peaks voice echoed in your head: “It is happening again”.
The noise and urgency rose, and Salah proved he can still score without penalties. Someone needs to have a word with him before some hairy-cracked recidivist decides to launch him into outer space out of spite.
Klopp left Shaqiri out again, still desperately trying to squeeze a tune out of Keita. It’s just not working out for the lad, and if we keep giving him chances we’re effectively tying one hand behind our back at a time when we’re in the ring with peak Ali.
Thankfully, Speroni did an uncanny Pickford impersonation, and the rest of the nation shivered to the bone while whispering “their name’s on it”. The horror, the horror… Palace did the Brighton trick of sitting back and wondering why everything didn’t just drop into their laps, even with a goal start.
Our worsening situation at right-back should have been enough for Zaha to have a field-day, yet the caution
of his manager might ironically have played into our hands.
There’s a long way to go and a lot could still go wrong. It’s possible these longer periods of rest may blow up in our face, but for a squad that’s beginning to look threadbare the benefits outweigh the risk.