No papering over cracks as the misery goes on

THERE’S only so many times you can paper over the cracks before the walls start collapsing under the weight.

We keep trying to get on a roll, to somehow emulate the runaway train effect of previous seasons, but it’s not happening is it? The Villa game was bound to be tough, and a blizzard didn’t help.

There’s an innate caution to the way O’Neill goes about his business. Whenever his name is linked to the Liverpool job the word ‘Houllier’ is often muttered. It’s not a compliment. I’d always defended him because I’d have taken him in 1998 when he was at Leicester, but I saw a similar dour attitude when they played Spurs back in November and I couldn’t sit through another five years of that. I’ve still got the scars from 2004.

It’s not so much a compliment as a relief to be so feared, because when other teams ignore the reputation and treat us with the disdain we currently deserve they usually get something from the game.

Aquilani is a strange one. It’s obviously too early to pass judgment and maximum points from two league starts cannot be ignored. It always felt like a Belt & Braces approach to pick both Lucas and Mascherano anyway. Since the latter sauntered off to chill his hot head there are signs, brief and infrequent perhaps, that a more positive approach suits us.

Alonso was always a ‘nuts and bolts’ type of player, excellent at what he did but quietly methodical rather than flash and eye-catching. Alberto will take a while to acquire a similar poise, and even then we may not notice it immediately.

The Villa game creaked on, neither side creating much. We’d edged it slightly, but not enough to feel cheated at losing vital extra points. Enter Torres. Having not witnessed a title winning side for 20 years we’re often lectured by the ‘sunny side up’ gang that this is the indelible mark of champions.

No matter how magical such moments are they have to occur more frequently than this; N’gog against United, Kuyt against Everton, Gerrard’s imperious header against Wolves and now Torres – all turning points that unfortunately, on Saturday’s evidence, have taken us right round the block to where we started.

Reading was pitiful. The churned-up pitch didn’t help, the pampered Premier League players accustomed to their green carpet even in the bleak midwinter.

Rafa had issued a bizarre rallying cry beforehand. “When you’re out of the Champions League the FA Cup becomes a major trophy”. Becomes? Oh boy, stand well back; here comes a massive eruption of Little Englander wrath! I’m probably not the right person to say this, but there’s a rancorous tone towards Benitez that the likes of Jeff Powell and that walking cartoon Stan Collymore can’t suppress for five seconds.

Hacks still hold that Burnley defeat against him; it was years ago, get over it, we won it the following season anyway.

Scousers aren’t renowned for their thick skins I grant you, but there’s more to this than sharks smelling our blood and moving in for the kill. ‘Mister’ Ferguson has powerful friends and unfortunate enemies.

But the only effective retort is to win matches. How many times have we said that already? Even Reading would suffice, but it rarely looked likely.

At times it was hideous, Pompey all over again. Notice how our good moments always come from Gerrard or Torres now? Wolves’ red card, Dunne’s deflection into Fernando’s path and Saturday’s equaliser all had a hint of fortune.

Kuyt’s incompetence paid off for once, and we settled back for the inevitable domination. Trouble is, so did the players. What the hell has happened to Insua? This time last year he looked like one of the many pluses of an exciting season but the larger he gets the worse he plays.

Some of the hoofball we play from the back is ugly and frustrating, and it doesn’t help Torres who is taking a battering from recidivists who still think a forearm smash from behind is good defending. Just letting him know we’re there, don’t you know… Survival was the solitary salvation. It’s a performance we’ve seen often in the cup over the years, but it becomes harder and harder to isolate these off days from all the others we’ve suffered of late.

At some stage people are going to say this isn’t how things are currently; it’s what we are, period.