England expects as Rafa goes sabre-rattling

IT WAS a week of yawn stifling. Should Liverpool players make the supreme sacrifice for St George? The media huffed and puffed, pretending anyone cares if Carragher doesn’t want to play sixth fiddle to a gaggle of stretcher cases and lightweights.

And how dare Gerrard think a game with Chelsea carries more significance than England’s friendly? Dungeons in the tower apparently awaited these treacherous northern monkeys.

Liverpool fans have long stopped listening to the last refuge of scoundrels.

We recall how Fowler was ignored, how Redknapp was always injured and how Barnes was systematically abused. Gerrard picked up his injury during an almost comatose afternoon in Toulouse.

It’s to be hoped the French haven’t lulled us into false security. They deserve Oscars if they have.

Which leaves us with the umpteenth “grudge” match. Like a disastrous wedding in a soap opera, everyone phones in their lines for this drama-by-numbers.

Rafa said this. Jose said that. “Ooooh, they don’t like each other do they?” On and wearily on.

All that’s missing is Don King keeping them apart.

There was a time when managers and players were club employees, brought into line if they ever besmirched the name of the great institutions they were fortunate to represent. Cowed by the financial implications of upsetting these prima donnas, boardrooms remain invisible and silent while toys fly from prams with imbecilic monotony.

Chelsea’s strenuous effort to be treated as major players on the world stage goes beyond the acquisition of star players and trophies.

From tip to toe, from chief executive to deluded fan, they exude a pantomime odiousness designed to convince the greater clubs their place at the table stems from something other than temporary financial intrusion.

So we must stomach the lectures on what is a “great” club and challenging for ALL trophies between the snotty remarks about our town’s baser tendencies, skewered by cartoon mimicry of “de accent laaaaa”.

Sorry, lopping the “H” off history does not make you “the enemy”. We despise United for an array of reasons, shaped by experience and consecrated by time.

Chelsea adopt legacy-lite, fabricating the laziest of legends, a club built entirely from shortcuts.

SO WHY is Benitez so eager to be the chump’s sparring partner? He was the main antagonist before Sunday. There’s no need for all this hucksterism surely? Tickets were sold weeks in advance.

Does Rafa think he’ll get away with his oddball portrayal of LFC as minnow socialists fighting the ravenous capitalist swine? Chelsea’s resemblance to Goliath may be uncanny or illusory, but Liverpool and Benitez make an unconvincing David.

Mention Abramovich all you like but that smokescreen is getting wispy-thin. Take Torres for example. If we label his personal battle with Ben Haim as Gift Shop v Thrift Shop, we had the upper hand and for a while that’s how it looked.

We played well but we also willingly abandon whatever advantage we have. Chelsea marginally resisted the urge to do a lap of honour with their point, so it was clear which team should have won.

But sooner or later we have to keep supporting our forwards and we have to keep the ball.

The possession stats were ludicrous because Chelsea, as always at Anfield, were rattled and for the taking.

Of course it never helps when the referee brings Christmas four months’ forward.

Styles never had control of the game, the penalty was scandalous and despite the tedious simmering rancour it was never a nine-card match.

These games are always tight so they can turn on anything marginal. Rafa’s bizarre worship of “control” is futile, since it can vanish in one fraudulent moment.

Those fans that envisaged a title challenge this year will be the most disappointed while the rest of us will keep looking for signs of progression elsewhere.

It’ll be how we perform against the teams we’re clearly superior to that will decide whether the summer outlay is ultimately justified.