TERRACE TALK: Reaction from the weekend’s top Premier League action
Come on down to the Anfield sale.
Equalisers? We’re giving them away. Hurry, while laughing stocks last.
Harsh? After conceding a goal the Great Wall of China couldn’t have kept out, perhaps. If Everton had scored the unlikeliest of winners or Middlesbrough emerged victorious from that ludicrous, unnecessary shootout, it wouldn’t be harsh enough. Even a cloven-hoofed carthorse like Jagielka can be a hero nowadays. It was a bit much, giving Boro a dozen levellers before finally finishing them off as the sun rose the following morning, but that’s Rodgers’ Liverpool for you.
Always the soap opera, exasperating but compelling. Turns out there’s a teensy problem with the whole “you score three, so we’ll get four” routine that enthralled a nation last season. Something about 51 of your 101 goals being nabbed by two people, and what happens when neither can help you.
Brendan will investigate rocket science once he’s solved that particular conundrum. I could have told him that once the teenybopper sheen had fallen from Mario’s hairstyle, Mario’s United trolling and Mario’s instagrams (whatever the hell they are), supporters might just notice the ball’s not going into the big netty thing.
To be fair he got stronger and more involved the longer the game went on, holding the ball and even winning the free kick from which Gerrard scored. He also tackled back tenaciously, but that miss? Ooo! Marone! Tim Howard was in the middle of a nightmare run yet he was made to look Schmeichel-esque. Sixteen shots in the first half alone but apart from Lallana’s header, he rarely had to raise his game a notch above Brad Jones’.
The effort he made for Liverpool’s solitary goal proved what we were actually up against and couldn’t exploit. At least some of them had shots. Markovic was hauled off pretty damn quickly, presumably to spend more time with his hair. Imagine if Uefa decided to punish Liverpool on Financial Fair Play and it was his €20 million that finally tipped the balance. You could rewrite the dictionary definition of irony there and then.
There were pluses. A fitter Lallana is a better Lallana; whether it will ever mean a whole lot, time will tell. The team’s passing was more like last season’s and despite their own wretched start Everton aren’t really pushovers nowadays. What was troubling was that the Blues had absentees of their own, exacerbated by Miralas’s breakdown, and still got something. They even had Gareth Barry, the big dog handicap.
With the seconds ticking away, you wondered if anything had been learned about hanging onto a lead, given previous failures. Colin Pascoe was showing his big catalogue to Rickie Lambert on the touchline as Balotelli shuffled slowly off. What on earth needs to be said so late in the game? The rest of the side was dropping disconcertingly deep by that stage and Lambert’s mobility has been reduced to that of a built-in wardrobe. It doesn’t need a 50-page dossier to explain “run about a bit, if you can”, surely?
In the end, Liverpool were a victim of percentages. A centre half with the ball at his feet 25 yards out, everyone else closed down? That would 99 times out of 100 be job done, but it’s one of those spells for Liverpool at the moment.
We’ve done that to Everton so often (still no win at Anfield for 15 years, kids) that you’d think we could take just one on the chin. Fat chance.
A sour upbringing means I don’t want them to get anything, unless there’s a plague handy. I hate it when they get an opportunity to celebrate another victorious draw. It could have been worse.
As Moreno conceded the free kick that nearly resulted in an actual victory for Everton instead of their ersatz one, some of us decided defence wasn’t ever going to be Brendan’s forte.
The real Liverpool will be back when the circus scores return.
A rather professional display against Villa and heartening to see we are finally finding a way past teams who come to park the bus.
A half fit Costa was still a menace and it’s such a relief to see a striker doing the simple things like getting into dangerous positions and anticipating the ball — he is certainly the darling if Stamford Bridge at the moment.
But we must not overlook the contribution of Cesc Fabregas who has been more influential than I could have ever have hoped.
Arsenal fans were up in arms that Wenger “allowed” their former hero to come to The Bridge and their anger has turned to seething fury as he has settled in immediately to that midfield maestro role and has contributed almost as much to our current position as Costa.
I can only hope he will take a leaf out of Lampard’s book and put past allegiances aside and make his mark for his new paymasters next week.
On the subject of Lampard, I know I’m going to sound like a jilted teenager but I need to get this off my chest.
Can I start by saying that had Frank left us to go to City he would have gone with my blessing and probably the blessing of every Chelsea fan in the world.
In fact he could have gone almost anywhere (except Tottenham — never Tottenham) and we would have wished him well.
However, the way things have panned out seem quite “contrived” — devious even.
Whether this was to bypass financial fair play or it was a roundabout way of joining City against Chelsea’s wishes or even something done by Lampard’s people who may have been under the misapprehension that his joining City directly would somehow upset Chelsea fans, I don’t know.
From my vantage point it looks like his intention was always to join City and this attempt at disguising that fact for whatever reason makes it all look more than a bit underhand.
Moving on.
With Arsenal days away, I would have expected the annual opening of public hostilities between Jose the Magnificent and Arsene the Pious but it’s all been very quiet.
Usually Mourinho is well into his stride — joking with journos — disguising his barbs with humour and/or sarcasm but this last week we have seen a quiet but bad-tempered manager and I’m not quite sure why.
It may have to do with the upcoming international break perhaps.
Mourinho does not want to release Costa to Spain — the niggly hamstring is obviously an issue, and having seen Drogba in action we can all agree he is not in any condition to lead the line if something happen to Costa.
We have Remy, of course but the loss of Costa would be quite a blow.
With the game won, Costa was subbed against Villa and Remy then entered the fray. There’s no doubt he was energetic but disappointingly, Mourinho must have ordered the players to see the game out by racking up their Opta passing stats rather than actually making any real attempt to increase our winning margin.
We need to beat Arsenal for all sorts of reasons but primarily bragging rights. Last year’s FA Cup win has bought all the nerdy, Nick Hornby wannabe, spread-sheet warriors back out of the woodwork and they need to be put back in their places — pronto.
Another 6-0 would be just glorious but an offside scuff off Costa’s backside would do just as well.
The dream scenario would be an edgy 50/50 game which has ticked down to time added on — Fabregas picks up the ball in his own half, mazy run the length of the pitch, nutmegs Szczesny — then wheels away in orgasmic euphoria cupping his ear to the Arsenal fans, while simultaneously kissing the badge — before being engulfed by his celebrating team-mates.
He emerges eventually — winks at Wenger and the referee blows the final whistle.
Come on — it would be sensational!
Although in recent seasons our derby encounters with Chelsea have become a far more significant litmus test of the Arsenal’s aspirations (or lack, thereof), for me this match is strictly business, compared to the more sentimental connotations of our dates with the whipping boys from White Hart Lane.
Living as I do on the manor and with the vast majority of my friends and family worshipping on one side or the other of the North London divide, the hype surrounding Derby Day and the implications of the result impinge on every aspect of my daily life. We might not have lost at home to Spurs since 2010 but after beating them three times last season, our neighbours were due some good fortune.
Considering our historic domination and our control of possession on the day, doubtless Spurs fans will feel far happier to have come away from our place with a hard-earned draw. But after all the pre-match banter, this “honours even” result failed to settle any of the arguments and left most Gooners feeling an anticlimactic dissatisfaction.
Mind you, this was far better than the horror of going a goal behind, facing the prospect of having to go home, turn my phone off and hide under the covers for the next couple of weeks. Nevertheless, in view of the cost, in terms of the further loss to injury of Arteta, Ramsey and possibly Wilshere, after the palpable explosion of roof-raising relief following the Ox’s equaliser, it was most disappointing that we lacked the firepower, to kick on and secure three points.
Truth be told, with a wage bill that’s allegedly higher than Chelsea’s and around double that of Spurs’, on paper the Gunners should have more than enough in the tank to overcome our rivals. But derby games rarely respect circumstance and although we exercised our authority with our control of the game, between Pochettino’s tactically astute approach and Arsène’s seemingly stubborn refusal to maximise our assets, we struggled to impose our supremacy in the only place that really matters, in front of goal.
With Chelsea and Man City in such prolific goal-scoring form, if the Gunners continue to fail to convert draws into victories, it won’t be long before the league leaders disappear out of sight. Yet I remain optimistic that our cogs will fall into place and that this team will begin to click. Nevertheless, it’s hard to disagree at present, with all those who contend that Welbeck can’t spearhead our campaign with a 25-goal contribution.
Danny’s energetic efforts could make a difference, if we get sufficient bodies in the box to feed off his industry. Yet all too often on Saturday he was a lone target, which also left Özil floundering, struggling to have some impact, with our somewhat static midfield failing to make the sort of advanced runs that enable our German star to shine.
Hopefully Walcott’s imminent return will improve matters, but after witnessing Diaby’s first-half appearance in our cup defeat to Southampton in midweek, this rare sighting of our lanky French midfielder only highlighted quite how short of stature the Gunners are, compared to the majority of our opponents.
Although the Ox and young Callum Chambers came away with the most credit on Saturday (along with Kabul’s resolute efforts for the opposition), amidst all our injury woes, I’m sure I’m not alone in casting covetous glances in the direction of East London, angered by our negligent failure to include a call-back option in Carl Jenkinson’s loan deal. And having failed to sign Carvalho to bolster the blatant deficiencies of Arteta’s aging limbs, I can’t help think Wenger could’ve done worse than to sanction the return of Alex Song.
But to more immediate matters. Here’s hoping we can make do and mend to get our Champions League campaign off the ground in midweek and to ensure our esteemed manager doesn’t again end up with egg on his face at Stamford Bridge on Sunday, courtesy of his former favourite disciple, Cesc Fabregas.
We won, and we upset Sam Allardyce: that’s already a good Saturday afternoon’s work, especially in these manic times. Even better, in some eyes? Wayne Rooney got sent off.
I know, I know: what on earth is going on, when a ‘top player’ becoming unavailable for five weeks is a cause for celebration in some quarters?
But that’s the pretty pass into which we have descended as far as the you-know-who goes. A sample of some comments I heard: “He can’t even get a cynical foul on target”; “the ref was running alongside him too — fancied an autumn break somewhere, Wayne?”; “that’ll be a three- match ban — can we appeal that it’s too lenient?” Ouch.
For many Reds, the argument runs like this. “It’s not that he’s out-and-out shite. Of course he’s not. It’s that he’s not as good as what we have now got. Would you play him ahead of Mata behind a two? No. Would you pick him upfront instead of either Falcao or RVP? No. Would you put him in midfield or wide instead of Herrera and Di Maria? No. Is he going to accept being a stand-in for others when injured or suspended, assuming he’d ever swallow the previous judgments? No. This is the same thinking that forced Welbeck’s sale: Danny was okay, but not as good as the others, and yet he was demanding to play every week.”
So, should we sell him, in January, while he’s still worth something? After all, Manchester United shouldn’t be in the business of providing a comfy rest home for declining players, as the Scholes/Giggs experience proved: that cost us Paul Pogba, for starters.
I’ll leave it to you to answer that question, dear reader. But we are living through a moment when everything is possible, and no cow is too sacred to be spared the slaughterhouse. Many have thought Louis van Gaal has been cannily giving Rooney enough rope with which to hang himself, and clearly getting himself stupidly red-carded constitutes another yank from the hangman. If Mata now grabs his chance behind the front two, you’d wonder if there’d be any way back for Wayne. Springtime in Paris may beckon...
No question as to the brightest feature of Saturday, though: young McNair’s nerveless display at the back, with Rojo’s developing confidence and Rafael’s delightful ebullience contesting second place. The defensive crisis thus eases ever so slightly.
Incidentally, do not let it be said that Van Gaal has been taken by surprise by this rearguard deficiency. In late July, a social friend of Woodward reported to me that Eddy had told him Van Gaal had asked for three more defenders, a midfielder, and a wide player. (Shaw was already signed at this point.) LVG ended up, post-that date, taking delivery of one defender, a midfielder, a wide player, and a striker. Losing 3-5 at Leicester reflected that lopsided delivery: too much quality up front and not enough at the back. Phil Neville is quite right that we need at least one more window of proper spending.
Although the Glazers will sincerely hope that he was being needlessly hyperbolic when he put a £100 million potential price tag on it.
Still: let us be grateful that the ship has steadied. And although Blind continues to divide opinion, Herrera is now coalescing converts around him by the legion. Squint, and you can see our future taking shape. Let us hope it involves the importation of another reliable defensive midfielder, though: few believe that any combination of current resources would suffice to hold off, say, a rampaging Touré. Even quixotic Everton, our next opponents, have a couple of players whom one can envisage having fun at our expense when breaking. Just keep repeating this to yourself: “work in progress, work in progress.” Possibly until May.
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