Dark days as Benitez bedevilled again

HE’S great, Euro-Rafa. Never doubted him for a second. But at the weekend, Anglo-Rafa failed once more.

Strap yourself in for the ride, it’s about to get bumpy again.

Last week’s column contained a rare moment of innocence. Forecasting a smooth sail in choppy waters has drowned many a man.

This is the way of things at this level. You want to be the best there is? The demands of millions of spoilt brats baying for your blood after the slightest mishap is compulsory.

To stay at Anfield, eschew foreign ownership, spend what we can afford and settle for whatever success comes our way may be the Puritan ethos of choice — but God, it would be dull.

Liverpool is a name that reverberates longer and shines brighter than almost any other you care to mention.

So the screeching melodrama that shadows anyone seated at the top table has to be tolerated, any Olde Worlde disgust for the Cirque Du Lunatique that stalks us suppressed.

Sometimes, you can at least savour a performance like last Tuesday’s, but were the post-Reading doubters so wide of the mark? The team chosen was exactly what we’ve demanded throughout these rotational years: 4-4-2, everyone in chosen positions and purpose from the first whistle.

Is it so difficult to do this every match? It’s not about changing the odd player here or there, it’s the grinding gears of questionable tactics; forcing dumb footballers to think; giving average opposition respect they don’t deserve.

Benayoun and Kewell out wide, not Voronin or Kuyt. A midfield with attacking power and defensive solidity. Forwards combining pace, work-rate and skill.

Next stop: rocket science.

Rafa has everyone dancing to his tune. Pundits credit him for Gerrard’s masterclass (yeah, that 20-minute rest at Reading made all the difference) but debated at 3-0 whether he should rest players for United. There were 40 minutes to go! Torres had one of his unstoppable days. The opposition was again maligned, as if being swept aside by Liverpool is proof of ineptitude.

Nobody ever confused me with a cheerleader — despite the short skirt and pom-poms — but sometimes, all you can do is express admiration for an almost flawless performance.

But games like Reading or rather Rafa’s approach cause the concern. We’re not good enough to meddle, and the manager has too much ego not to. An exasperating conundrum.

If the Yanks spent their goodwill in the face-off with Rafa, they’ve gone into the red with reports of a climbdown over the stadium.

Such chatter appearing the day before United did not go unnoticed by conspiracy theorists, but it shows how much they’ve been damaged by Tracksuit-gate that fans believe anything about them now.

Chauvins will rally in the face of financial mischief; “It won’t be a £700m loan, it’s £400m” — whoopity doo. For a second there I thought we were in trouble.

There are rumours Moores regrets selling now. I hope his conscience sticks needles in his guts at night, but cash was always the rancid soul’s panacea.

It’s what most fans wanted though. The response has been Glazerian, the new owners no longer saviours but saboteurs. If you sell your soul, don’t feign surprise when you see the devil greasing up and licking his lips.

Events on Sunday exacerbated the annoyance with the Reading result. United do so little to take the points nowadays I’m amazed Rafa doesn’t forfeit them in lieu of a week’s rest.

Who knew we would ever pine for Houllier, when hiding behind our inferiority meant blanket defence, surrendered possession and sneaky undeserved goals? It’s bad enough the Mancs made our title their own, now they’ve swiped the one thing we had going for us in this decade, because that was barefaced larceny on Sunday.

Or was it? How galling is it that the areas where our manager is supposed to be master — discipline, organisation, strategy and defence — we came off second best again? Every scuffed pass, every deflection, every bobble, it all went their way. I suspect witchcraft, have done for the 30-odd years I’ve been watching this fixture.

I’ll stop there. A grown man crying is not a particularly edifying spectacle.

* Steven Kelly