For me, the glass isn’t just half empty; it’s broken and dangerously pointing at my face. It’s the way God made me I’m afraid. Even with Souness and Dalglish in their pomp I rarely thought they’d prevail.
My eyebrows are permanently upright thanks to the wonders I saw then, out of amazement. Older doesn’t mean wiser, though. The skimpy portions God hands out nowadays aren’t appreciated.
Take Saturday for example. Whilst the trials of the chosen one (lower case, whispered) against Albion delighted many, I was searching cupboards for a wet blanket.
All I can think about is our own dreary record there; 10 defeats in nine years. Wigan don’t do that. Not that league cup progress helps Rodgers anyway; the ex-manager will verify that. It isn’t as if we didn’t put up a decent struggle, though it wasn’t good enough to justify the mockery of Moyes at 0-0.
“Here’s my chin, take your best shot” – always a bright idea.
We’re decent when the opposition allow it. Get in our face, different story. United didn’t do it often, but they didn’t need to. The hoodoo worked for them, and Enrique did the rest.
Sakho passed like he left his boots in the box. Lucas and Henderson trudged around with little empathy for the sport they’ve adopted and Gerrard played like he’d had his last football tooth extracted.
The rest, particularly Suarez, did their best but to no avail.
You’d keep schtum after two defeats, right? Wrong. Ayre is still babbling about Suarez damaging The Brand, Rodgers about The Group; corporate spin, sufficiently irritating in victory. In the week we’d endured it sounded like chancers’ nails down a blackboard.
We know why it’s done, to persuade everyone they’re on the right lines and know what they’re doing.
Suarez saw through it, now everyone else needs to catch up.
Strange we should face Sunderland. People in the shadows making cack-handed decisions then unmaking them in an instant — like Di Canio wasn’t their idea. Managers go, players go. ‘They’ stay, to unleash more havoc.
Early days, and maybe ‘the big boys’ are complacent. There have been some strange results, granting us an opportunity whilst others sleep. Only Arsenal stayed awake but the rest won’t slumber forever.
So we have to exploit that and cling to everyone’s jammies. We generally love playing against managers on their ‘lazzies’ (Paul Ince, Tony Adams) and hate facing pushy caretakers eager to impress, so the Mackems sacking Il Douchebag was bad timing.
Any team with Cattermole is going to treat broken limbs as a bonus, their balletic intro as deceptive as it gets. They still bang on about beach balls; jeez, that was four years ago! Has nothing happened in Sunderland since? Apparently not.
After a disallowed goal you imagine bad things happening. Bad things should happen to teams wearing THAT kit. The Bite stalled Suarez’s morality makeover, so of course he’s being kicked and getting nothing again.
No Di Canio, Rodgers in a black shirt, Suarez booed. It was all rather confusing. Danny’s goal was a necessary return to form and normality. The English can score with an arm and nothing’s said. Them’s the rules, Luis. Fortunately he got his own goal soon enough.
Now to negotiate the obligatory poor second half. What the hell is happening to us? Our midfield vanished around the hour mark. Again. Sterling has ‘gone’. Ideally he’d be withdrawn from first team duty, but who else is left? Lucas got another card, and mostly it’s clumsiness through weariness. You’ll never hear a louder sigh of relief than greeted Luis’ clincher.
Am I moaning too much after a 3-1 away win? Oh definitely. That empty glass, shattered again.