Reality bites as capitulation complete

SO was anyone sent off for dissent this week? No, thought not.

Once the crimson-faced outrage dissipated, Javier accepted his fate and the club fined him albeit belatedly.

A few fans wanted to continue the good fight, casually ignoring the fact they needed a towrope and wild horses to drag Mascherano from the scene of his barely heinous crime.

And Bennett, the man who makes a habit of sending Ronaldo off, is a homer. He sent Alonso off at Arsenal once despite having his back to the incident.

Last year he gave us two penalties in one game. Try and guess the venue.

All the hot air drew attention away from a gap in class evident when eleven white shirts were in plain sight.

Our rotten record in the fixture can’t be blamed on officials, and much amusement was to be had watching Liverpool fans avoid obvious conclusions.

“If we’d won those two games instead we’d be two points behind them.” Er, righto. Since we haven’t beaten them in one league match under Benitez, no one was prepared to explain how this miracle was to occur.

But then eternal optimists always see a cure around the corner, keeping the Grim Reaper at arm’s length.

We haven’t needed excuses lately, but you sense a few more may be required after the Arsenal trilogy.

Some will say the re-emergence of ownership disputes came at an eerily inconvenient time.

Even Liverpool can’t be distracted from the task of swatting Reading and their timorous ilk it would seem.

Now that it’s tricky again, up pops silent, some say comatose, partner Gillett with a severe dose of verbal diarrhoea, including that perennial press standby The Death Threat.

How long must people fall for this nonsense? Let me explain slowly for the half-witted; the moron that tells you he’s going to kill you… isn’t going to kill you.

But it serves a dual purpose; a healthy dollop of “poor pitiful me” sympathy for you, a guilty verdict by association for the vast majority of civilised fans that happen to think you are a conniving, lying weasel.

How ironic that Everton were the visitors after days of Bennett/Ferguson conspiracy theorising.

Any Reds indulging in paranoid nonsense last week should spare the blue brethren their jabbing accusatory finger because it turns out you’re no better than they are. Moyes’ constant artless claims that we were favourites for the (ahem) ‘coveted’ fourth spot may have had an insidious, weakening effect on a side which is already overachieving.

We should have been out of sight by half-time and could still have been in the second if we’d shown a similar commitment to attack. The game’s denouement proved trickier than it ought to have been.

Perhaps one day the manager will reflect on this season’s home draws and equalisers conceded, and come to the fairly obvious conclusion that games need to be put out of harm’s way before possession is so senselessly squandered.

The fact we were often playing with nine men thanks to the infuriating Babel and the effete Lucas should temper such criticism.

After all, a win is a win even if it is slightly unsatisfying.

My utter contempt for the blue half dictates all sensibilities are routinely offended by the idea of hanging on for dear life against this embodiment of mediocrity.

We may despise Moyes but the man’s achievement borders on alchemy and you begin to wonder if he, Cahill or Arteta will stick around with such millstones round their necks.

Perhaps we should keep our own counsel on such matters once we’ve counted the number of times Gerrard and Torres have rescued us this season.

Speaking of the skipper and his torrid time from Evertonians, if the manager can hear what the away end sings perhaps he should pass comment on the abominations heard in Manchester a week before if he wants to be taken seriously.

Just a thought.

* Steven Kelly