A bigger stadium when we play like that?

DID you ever get the feeling that you’re completely superfluous?

I read an interesting piece in the local paper about our former midfield maestro Steve McMahon. He hosts a TV show in the Far East about the Premiership.

His boss, presumably in a bid to put him at ease, once told Macca his estimated audience was 600 million viewers! Television executives bow to nobody in the exaggeration stakes (not even fishermen) but even if he’d trebled the real figure, that is quite staggering.

Surely no one can doubt now that a succession of early starts for the Reds were sought after by the club, rather than imposed by television.

More and more you get the feeling we are mere extras in a poorly acted farce. Except of course that we’re extras who don’t get paid: indeed, who pays ludicrous amounts for the privilege of standing around like untrained chimps.

Up at dawn, traversing the assault course laughably called the British transport system, served rancid ‘refreshments’, frozen solid in sub-zero temperatures (it’s Spring don’t you know), our intelligence routinely insulted.

Is this some kind of genetic experiment? Is there a mad scientist testing the limits of the British public’s capacity for suffering? The conclusion, it would seem, is that we can be pushed beyond any acceptable level of human tolerance.

Hence the decision to take another look at the plans for the new stadium with a projected expansion of the original capacity by at least 10,000.

So that will mean a lower tier, an upper tier and a stratos-tier designed to house all those sad souls who packed into Anfield’s public houses during the Barca game.

You must be bored to tears with column after column that doesn’t have a football match to comment upon. What’s that you say? Villa Park? Ha ha ha! I so admire the Irish sense of humour.

There are plenty of ways of describing Sunday’s events but I guarantee the word ‘football’ will not appear anywhere.

It followed ten days of rest don’t forget. Let’s nip this fixture congestion garbage in the bud once and for all. Liverpool’s players, squad rotation et al, have had to endure a Herculean 7 games in 7 weeks, the poor dears.

How this heavy load has taken its toll. How Rafa must be praying for the penalty shoot-out rule to come into force in the Premiership as well as the lower divisions.

If we only had to defend for 90 minutes and then take five spot kicks, it would spare him the clearly distasteful task of having to devise an attacking plan of some kind.

Faced with the mighty football powerhouse that is Aston Villa he began with two defensive central midfielders. Shunted out wide yet again, Gerrard flicked and ambled and, well, sulked wouldn’t be far wide of the mark. Who can blame him any longer? Of course there will be plenty of apologists for the manager, all of them ready and indeed eager to heap the blame upon the players.

Strange isn’t it, how the Reds can outscore everyone but the big three at home, yet have managed fewer away goals than Fulham or Wigan.

How ironic to see Patrik Berger come on and simply shoot on sight, waking up 42,000 people in the process.

While Fowler provided our one moment of menace. Back in the 90s the same players brightened many a wintry afternoon with his skill and panache.

Doubly ironic when you consider Roy Evans was widely condemned for being less far away from winning the title than the current manager, who it seems feels he is in a strong enough position to dictate terms to the new owners.

Any more performances like Sunday’s and he could be in for a rude awakening. Still, if you’ve got the Real job to fall back on why break into a sweat over it? Anyone with common sense would ask why that particular job becomes available so often, and whether such a pragmatic coach would even survive there for the number of minutes it takes to unpack.

But when the heart rules the head logic gets a one-way ticket to oblivion.

When we reached the Champion’s League last 8 in 2005 it signalled a fatal easing off in the league. They’re beginning to play as if the script for The Miracle Of Athens had already been written.

It’s almost as if a resurgent Spurs and an Everton side free of cup distractions (no, honestly) were of no consequence whatsoever. It’s a dangerous game.

And so is the emotional blackmailing of your employers. Whilst Capello continues to struggle there will be all manner of media mischief, mischief that Benitez is seemingly reluctant to defuse for the second year in a row.

Wasn’t Gerrard demonised for the same thing?