Einstein may have been a relativity smarty-pants but he had insight into stupidity too. Didn’t he define it as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results?
Or was he talking about insanity? At Liverpool Football Club, it’s become impossible to separate the two.
It’s been tough, the last 27 years. Neutrals will have no sympathy at all since we used to act Billy Big Balls in the 1970s and ’80s while all the losers mumbled under their breath “one day, one day…” Well, that day’s here. Again.
This is possibly the cruellest moment of Anfield’s “Can they? Can they? Of course they bloody can’t” era.
This time it’s involved a complicated set-up whereby a bunch of seemingly average players started to look quite useful. They were even top of the league for a whole fortnight, topped up by an extra week for internationals.
You can imagine some prankster waiting to hand Klopp and his boys a signal; wait till they’re all bumptious and cocky again, then let them have it. We can argue forever with Arsenal fans, our noble partners in pathetic, over who’s the biggest embarrassment right now.
I’d say losing at home to Swansea trumps Watford any day of the week, even before you play your ace with Wolves in the FA Cup, but why squabble? There is plenty of ignominy to go around.
Even our draw with Chelsea was more artisan than artist. It seemed typical of us to show some passion and effort against one of the best sides, but surely we weren’t going to flounder against yet another basement team?
Hull looked like it required some especially intricate preparation. It needed United to drop points to the same team a few days earlier and The Spesh to throw his usual tantrum while making needless references to Klopp.
Of course everyone knows why Mourinho isn’t treated the same. He’s horrible. Klopp at least will apologise afterwards and even shows a smidgeon of self-deprecation.
“No one can beat us!” indeed. Who couldn’t find that funny, on so many levels?
If I had a euro for every idiot on social media who then pronounced “Klopp’s got him on the ropes”, I could finally buy my own Caribbean paradise and get out of this septic isle — while Antonio Conte assassin-smiles at the utter irrelevance of it all.
Then there was the return of Sadio Mane, apparently the cure to all our ills. Things will be different now… Klopp issued his team-sheet and Lucas was on it. In central defence. He was also sticking with Can, despite Wijnaldum getting the goal in midweek.
So we passed, and passed, and passed — then conceded from a corner.
So we passed, and passed, and passed again — then conceded on a breakaway.
The lad who scored the second got thrown out of Everton because he was the worst player they’d ever bought.
The. Worst. Player. Everton. Bought.
They sat there and let us blow ourselves out and up. Like all the teams who’ve just beaten us, they didn’t do anything fancy. They don’t even have to huff, puff, and blow our house down. We detonate it for them.
The fanfare over Coutinho’s new contract seemed overwrought even before Saturday. A signature means nothing anyway, but the idea of Barcelona wanting him seems so funny now we might even win a Rose D’Or before Europe kicks us out for good.
I’ve done this column for 15 seasons and it never once struck me as a waste of time until now. Supporting Liverpool now involves such complex ideology and virulent self-hypnosis to get through a season that it’s become robotic and demeaning.
“Get behind the lads.” Ah, that old panacea for all ills. The Examiner probably needs someone who actually believes all that horseshit.
We knew how this would end. You knew it all along. We just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit it.
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