Cursing the neighbours on free weekend

ANOTHER free Saturday. I could get used to this. I’m never sure what to make of the FA Cup once we’re out of it, which is strange as we’ve certainly had enough practice under Rafa.

Cheering for our narky neighbours’ opponents is churlish in polite society, but in Supporterland it’s the act of a wimp not to cackle maniacally. No more texts and emails enquiring about our weekend activities anyway! It’s also gratifying to note that Leeds and Reading’s efforts weren’t flukes.

I could never work out why that means anything once the Reds are vanquished, but it still seems to.

Our main item of business had already been conducted last Wednesday, our table-within-a-table clash of the giants against Tottenham.

You fight against the notion of fourth being an achievement, you really do. That it’s happening with the same number of months of the season left is equally degrading.

But what do you do? This intriguingly rapid realignment of ambition would not work in any other line of business, but football never loses its talent to bemuse where the self-hypnosis of its patrons is concerned.

The glass isn’t even half full but at least there’s always something in it. Those of us cursed with a perennially sour outlook won’t join in wholeheartedly with the joyous celebration of the tardy discovery that Liverpool players ARE allowed to give 100% effort.

We have in fact been explaining the outmoded theory that this is the least we can expect. This sweaty manifestation delighted the vast majority within Anfield, and since I’ve expended much boorishness on Everton’s predictable demise, I’ll confess it warmed these old cockles to see our boys tear into London’s fanciest Dans.

Forget for a second that the infamously lightweight visitors once went 80 years without a single Anfield victory; here we were treating them like Di Stefano’s Madrid.

It was gratifying to see Dirk receive the plaudits. Some of us appreciate his gargantuan efforts and fully respect Rafa for having at least one player out there who behaves like a supporter would if ever they were granted the golden opportunity the rest often appear to take for granted.

We’d seen enough grarrrrrft at Stoke to realise there are plenty within the dressing room who will fight till the bitter end for the manager. Cynics might claim the players in fact raise their game for those occasions where they’d be absolutely thrashed if they didn’t.

We seem to turn a corner once a month with these bravura-lite performances. United (October), Everton (November), Villa (December) and now Spurs, with begrudging nods of approval towards Lyon away and the first half against Arsenal.

When morale collapsed against the Gooners after our first calamity it alarmed many, and had Defoe’s comical ‘equaliser’ stood, there’s no telling what might have happened.

It led to one of those excruciating discussions about the laws of the game. Rules schmoolz; we’ve seen enough matches to know officials make it up as they go anyway, and given the modern offside nuances, no wonder there’s chaos.

On the night the breakdown of communication between the otherwise sturdy Kyrgiakos and the impeccable Reina caused far more alarm than the tedious safety drill that seems to take place at Anfield almost continuously.

To be fair we’d responded to Stoke’s equaliser by going straight down the pitch and creating a golden opportunity to win. Such resistance in the face of adversity was a key component in last season’s excellent results, and hopefully this is a genuine corner genuinely turned.

Wolves permitting...

With the transfer window rapidly nearing closure, the best we can hope for is to discard the Dutch dunce and bring in Jones.

Melonhead up at Sunderland, another Ferguson flunky that has no problem getting all brave with Benitez, has shot his mouth off again.

Given our track record, the way we conduct our business always puts you on edge and as with Ziege, Keane, Barry etc you wonder if the player is even worth the hassle.

That we could end up paying more for him than we did for Crouch is an especially bitter irony. The formation that actually put us in a challenging position is now becoming our Achilles’ Heel. Who is there of any real worth that will come here and watch Torres all season? A young novice happy to live on scraps and learn his craft (N’gog) or a hardened professional in his twilight years, desperate for one last opportunity in the spotlight?

Has Teddy Sheringham really retired?