Lose once in three months; that I can take. Gladly.
Lose two in a week? Hmmm, okay, not that big a deal, we’ve seen that before many times.
It’s what led up to that week that’s proving troublesome.
Selling one of your best players in mid-season and not replacing him? Who does that?
Who beats the best team in the country then loses to the 20th and 19th teams? Seriously, who does that?
The idea of Liverpool fans being experimented upon by bored rich people has been cited in this column before but it has never seemed more blatant than now. You wonder why they’re doing it, why they do any of it. More money, sure. That’s something the poor will never understand of course, why people with so much of it just want to keep grasping. It’s a game to them.
Why they can’t leave us alone with one of our few innocent pleasures like football is a question for their analysts.
It seems cruel and unusual but then lab rats aren’t supposed to understand why they’re being electrocuted.
These are the paranoiac vapour trails filtering through my skull nearly 11 years after Liverpool were first sold off.
Six trophies in six years before that, one since. No chance of one this year, either.
We’ve reached a decent level so that obviously meant someone’s got to be sold. Then it’s another experiment, to see if the saps still believe their lies about “wanting to compete”.
Liverpool are Lucy, the fans Charlie Brown. This time they’re not going to move the ball, honest. You’re only lying flat on your back (again) because you need the rest.
So if I know all this to be true (and it is) why was I so bumptious in the last column, immediately post-City? Honestly? I get sick of being told to cheer up; that this time it’s the real deal.
That near-fatal few minutes when they turned a 4-1 thrashing into a 4-3 nail-biter now feels like a stall, simply to inflict maximum pain further down the line.
The long unbeaten run now might as well not have happened, such is the despair now. Less than two weeks; that’s got to be the record surely, but don’t expect it to be a final twist of the knife. We haven’t suffered nearly enough yet.
I did the calculations and Liverpool have scored 560 goals while Rodgers and Klopp have been our managers. That means there’s every chance of us averaging 100 a season over six years. Maddening, isn’t it?
It sort of points a gigantic red arrow to where the problem lies but do they ever try and fix it? Sell Coutinho, buy van Dijk and see if the suckers fall for that one. They did?
I love it when supporters ask; “do they think we’re stupid or something?” Yes. Yes, they do. Happy to help…
And then there’s Klopp, utterly convincing in the proclamation that he doesn’t actually need any more players.
Nobody’s that good an actor surely, so what is he – egotist or lickspittle?
It all smacks of when Moyes was at Everton. He constantly had Kenwright’s back and vice versa, when the tides of vitriol began to rise for either or both.
We’re on another level to them obviously, but not by that much. No trophies in 23 years, ho ho ho. Checked your own cabinet lately?
Saturday was excruciating. Get the lead, gone in sixty seconds. Could it get worse? Of course it could.
VAR is television slapping you in the face. “We run things now, peasants”. I can say that because we got all the calls during the game. Not that it made any difference to the result, just dragged out the torture a while longer.
And more to come tomorrow, hallelujah praise Jesus…I’m not taking this very well, am I?
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