There were two very obvious confirmations in today’s match. One, Liverpool never do things easily for themselves. A two goal comfortable cushion at home, that almost felt like a designer sofa got transformed to an edgy rocking chair at the closing minutes. Fairly enough though, the rocking chair had a solid ground underneath and it was only a fright that never materialized. While at the start of the season, it seemed that penalties were the only way to get past a very mean Liverpool defense, it has ben getting pretty much different lately, especially since the start of 2008. Conceding two goals at Anfield to Middlesbrough could have easily proved fatal or at the very least a loss of two points.

And then for the second confirmation. Fernando Torres is in a class of his own. That is too plain obvious. Torres with his twenty-one goals so far has coupled two usually mutually exclusive commodities - quality with quantity. He can be the eagle, hunting for prey and he can be the vulture, picking up the carcass. In fantasy terms, he can probably have a great night, have a sackful of ale and wake up without a hint of a hangover. Today, he snatched on a wayward back-pass, then rounded the keeper and coolly deposited the ball into the net. Shortly afterwards, he got the ball, created a tiny but enough space for him and hammered the ball beyond the reach of the keeper, reminding us of his goal against the same Boro a few weeks ago which got the reds out of jail. And then, his presence caused havoc and misunderstanding between their keeper and the defender, both rushing on him to leave him an empty net to aim for. He could not miss and he didn’t miss to record his second hat-trick of the season. The standing ovation was richly deserved in the supplementary minutes of the match and his substitution was a confirmation by Rafael Benitez that he knows the three points are in the bank as I don’t think otherwise he would have dared subbing him.

The European hangover never materialized. After the unforgettable night at Anfield last Tuesday, the feet kept firmly on the ground and Liverpool did what was asked of them. Another day, another dollar. The Liverpool way.

Not only the tyres felt flat, their rims were all shattered, resembling more of a square rather than a circle. And the wind-screen was all scratched and dirty, both from inside and outside. The view off it was as unclear as a foggy day. And some with loud voices were claiming the driver doesn’t even have the foggiest of what he’s doing.

But this track was different from last Saturday’s. It’s more exotic and time and again in the recent past, Liverpool have adjusted themselves much better and hit the ground running. The bigger the opposition, the bigger the threat, the bigger the occasion, the bigger the decibels, the bigger the performance, the bigger the pride at the end of the night. And now, being just Wednesday, last weekend feel so far away. Close to each other but giving completely opposite vibes. As opposite as a cooker and a fridge, even though sitting next to each other in the same kitchen.

Liverpool kept possession. Liverpool attacked. Liverpool got frustrated. Liverpool kept it in check. The manager changed. Liverpool upped the tempo. Liverpool then scored two in the final five minutes. In the meantime, they got back to the basics of keeping a clean sheet, which till six minutes from the ninetieth minute looked to be the biggest positive to take from this night at Anfield. But goals by Dirk Kuyt and Steven Gerrard brought a certain euphoria that clouded a bit the fact. The high points of any building are always looked at and admired, while the bedrock is usually camouflaged.

Dirk Kuyt was in his usual workaholic mood yesterday. At times going too deep and like most of the times this season so far, admired rather than inspiring. Winning throw-ins rather than cutting through. For a striker he more provides craft, rather than creates art. But he keeps his head down, persisting against the odds and today he got awarded and his work rate got vindicated. As he never slacked on the pitch though, he avoided the slack from his own fans. And today a ball just kindly bounced diagonally in front of him which he bounced towards the goal and through the net to break the deadlock. And five minutes later the captain who at times was withdrawn, taking care of everything rather than rampaging like a teenager on ale, received the ball from the fresh Pennant and just directed to the most far flung point of goal.

And Inter were defeated like that. They only had ten men since the thirtieth minute, which seemed to enhance their justification of packing their penalty area and give their highly-rated and apparently free scoring Zlatan Ibrahimovic not even a sight on Liverpool’s goal.

The tie is far from over, but Liverpool got out of it so far more than they would have settled for before the game. Even had the circumstances were much better than they actually were. A two-nil score line against the Serie A Champions, most probably champions elect, and an undefeated side since September is a perfect and priceless one. Now, back in San Siro in three weeks times it is up to Liverpool once again to look after such a priceless gem.

It was November’97 when Barnsley last called at Anfield. Liverpool under Roy Evans were just coming from an excellent away victory at Highbury, compliments of a superb Steve McManaman strike. The momentum of the previous week performance though did not carry Liverpool through this weak side and the reds succumbed to a 1-0 defeat. Ten years later, Liverpool got a decent away point at Stamford Bridge and then hosted the same side in the F.A. Cup fifth round. Once again, the momentum did not carry Liverpool through as they succumbed to a humiliating defeat to the Championship side. Considering Liverpool opened the score themselves through Dirk Kuyt, the 2-1 reversal is more of a bitter blow and makes the result feel even more absurd, ridiculous and shameful. They got the ham, but failed to get the bread to sandwich and seal the issue, in the meantime losing the same ham and left bare handed.

Liverpool did have their chances and you can argue the two goals conceded could be easily thwarted had Pepe Reina was in goal. Fernando Torres was not even on the bench. Steven Gerrard got on only later. Javier Mascherano never played either. Liverpool is supposed to have a squad though, not just a couple of stars. It is still no excuse, especially considering the opposition. After all even back in the Shankly days Liverpool were able to field two teams. There were Liverpool and Liverpool reserves. Everton was only the third team.

With the league challenged so screwed up, an FA Cup run would have made for a good consolation. But now even that is beyond reach. Another possibility to save a strange and season and some face has been lost forever. During the open boardroom war, there were a lot of straws to clutch on to explain the latest debacle. That is beyond credibility now.

Next Tuesday’s match is to be looked from another angle now. At the moment though, the lens to look from is scratched, dirty and only gives a very disturbing image.

With the current state of affairs, watching a match is sometimes almost a chore. Still you know you have got to watch it. There is no other way round it. Sometimes you hate the most things you love. Probably, because it hurts you more than anything else. Definitely, because you care.
Waking up over here to the tune of an alarm at around four a.m. after just a couple of hours in a bed probably makes it even worse. And, it is not the same watching in a temporary home in a different time zone. Rather than unwinding your day with a few beverages with your mates watching your beloved reds, here you start the day on it with a stomach not in a state to take beverages. And it can easily turn your breakfast in a bad meal. Considering that most nutritionists state the breakfast is the most important meal of your day it can mess your stomach for a whole day. There is no night to sleep off the awful performance.

Thinking about it though, it feels like complaining of having too many white hairs when your younger sibling has got a Kojak head. By the end of the match though, you certainly looked at the mirror and those white hairs told you that they are a sign of maturity and can only enhance your reputation and looks.

A clean sheet has duly arrived for the first time in the Premiership. And after having the first point won, the reds gathered the other two. Upfront, there was a difference. Torres started as usual, but for a change had Peter Crouch partnering him. And he did not disappoint. His stature and height record reminds you of a giraffe, but the actual facts remind you of a gazelle. He was given his chance and he pounced on it. He opened the score, and unlocked a so far stalemate. Compliments also to a sublime cross by Jamie Carragher, who in an unfamiliar position since the Gèrard Houllier days was as solid as usual and provided the goods at the other side of the pitch.
And then Crouch turned to provider as he flicked a ball in Torres’s path, that with his pace he sped past his defenders and with only the keeper to beat, there was only the net at his mercy for the eighteenth time this season. Unlike our league titles so far, I am pretty confident that the Spaniard will get to his nineteenth without too much wait.

Then it was the captain’s turn to get on the score-sheet after a penalty won by Jermaine Pennant to seal the issue, and maybe soothe some of the unrest. At a time when Liverpool were prepared to accept any crumbs left, a three-nil win over Sunderland feels at least like a proper lunch and a decent preparation for Chelsea next week.