After the beating of Chelsea in their own backyard, and making the top position all theirs for the first time this season, Portsmouth called over at Anfield, a mere three days later. The guests were an unknown quantity, as their boss who at times used to paint himself as a father figure, decided to uproot to a place where it glitters more and leave them fending for themselves. Will such a situation undo Peter Crouch and the rest of the lads, or will they rise to the occasion that a unique arena like Anfield can provide to prove a point to their deserter?

It wasn’t the only dilemma before the match, as Rafa rather than sticking up with the same eleven that did the business three days earlier, decided to change four from the starting line-up and with the limelight shining and scrutinizing over Anfield, test the depth of his squad. Maybe the biggest compliment Peter Crouch could get was seeing his ex-team mate Sami Hyypia, mostly renowned for his aerial ability being recalled into the starting line-up instead of Daniel Agger who has only played three matches in succession so far.

And thus this time around, on a wet Wednesday night, Liverpool had the task to reassert Roy Evans’ quote of that ‘the table never lies’. Liverpool’s performance at times had the assertiveness of a shy Roy Evans facing the press after another mind numbing defeat back in the nineties, but the backbone of this team proved enough ammunition for the present manager to face the press with enough confidence to face the press and claim that he can still make the changes, win and keep the top position.

Liverpool did dominate the first forty-five minutes possession and Dirk Kuyt proved that while in a striking position he can get on target, even though this time unlike the other week against Wigan, he found an alert keeper doing just enough to thwart his venomous shots around the post. Jermaine Pennant on the other hand was given his chance in his favoured position but just disappointed once again, failing to make his mark in a game that was crying for width. Pennant’s days must really be numbered and I think like it has been the case with the ex-David James, a side like Portsmouth would be the ideal side where he can fit in as for the time being, he is like a snotty lad trying to mix it up with real hard men.

The second forty-five minutes was a continuation f the first half, but as the time was winding down, impatience was silently notching up a few decibels and hopelessness could be felt in the final pass. Ryan Babbel did try his usual runs, and you could feel the power in the Dutchman’s runs but sometimes the intent was seriously lacking. Shots were being fired from outside the box, with Fabio Aurelio working James the hardest but it had to be a moment of madness from Diop that presented Liverpool’s captain with the biggest chance of the night.

From eleven metres, face to face with James, he just took a couple of steps to place the ball at the only spot where the outstretched 6’5” frame of the latter could never reach. Some might say it was only a penalty but try and tell it to any red with a heart rate thumping abnormally.

A low-key speech still delivered the point it all wanted to get.

It is just the end of October, and for a year that starts in August rather than in January, we’re still rather in the beginning. With nine games played out of a total of thirty-eight, it’s argued that we’re closing the first quarter. Titles can’t be won in such a frame of time but they can be definitely lost. And while a lot claim we are still in the early days, points at the first quarter have the same value as those in the final day of the season. You usually crane and stretch all muscles of your neck to get a glimpse of the final storey or brick high up in the sky of historical buildings but you don’t usually bother to check the pediment where all is laying on. At the moment yesterday’s Chelsea’s match is the highest storey of what can possibly be a grandiose building. And even though it’s still early everybody’s pushing to have a gander at it all.

In these three months and nine matches, Liverpool have done what they have failed to do in certain whole seasons or years. Results were overturned with ludicrous efficiency, hoodoos and mental blocks were broken and yesterday along with all the above a haunted stadium has been exorcised. Along the way, questions put about the authenticity of the above, were answered in the best possible way firstly on Rafa’s blackboard and finally by Rafa’s redmen on the pitch.

It was a tense affair. As when you’re waiting to be questioned, doubts do creep. And yesterday just before the match it felt like a test of my own confidences and belief. Ten minutes later we were all bouncing as Xabi Alonso shot at goal and Bosingwa wrong footed Cech to give Liverpool the lead. It was a moment of pure delight, but deep down knowing that it’s still too early and the hard work is yet to start. A bit like winning a penalty and finally it dawns on you that still someone’s still got to beat a keeper through trembling legs.

Yesterday there were no trembling legs though. Chelsea as expected tried to stretch Liverpool as much as possible and gained the lion share of possession but Liverpool kept their cool, ushered their forwards to labyrinths and left Reina unscathed as much as possible. As the clock winded down, Liverpool grew in stature and the fifteen minute break gave the reds the hiatus needed to remind themselves that before them is a side that can never match them in Europe and can be taken into its own backyard.

Steven Gerrard who at times felt shackled by the ambience of Stamford Bridge and maybe affected with his own flirtation with the place epitomized the resurgence of Liverpool. Looking all focused while waiting in the tunnel, like a boxer waiting to fight his demons, he led by example, took the initiative when needed and crunched into tackles that only the theatrics of Bosingwa and Howard Webb’s yellow card could belittle. While Jamie Carragher led the back four through his voice and positional strategy, the captain led the whole team through his attitude. Sometimes too honest for his own good, his body language is even more a mirror of himself and this season he is showing all the qualities that are required from a future title winning captain.

Yesterday was one of the rare occasions that the final whistle gave me more of a thrill than the sight of the net bulging. The final whistle though was the red stamp on Liverpool’s statement of intent on the title. Another hoodoo has been broken. The final four letter word yet to be broken is now: wait.

Gale winds looked to be blowing furiously all over the Stade Vincente Calderon yesterday. And over 50,000 fans looked to all be blowing furiously to topple the Liverpool ship in this fantastic arena. The Liverpool ship though had a crew that with its extensive experience made light work out of such circumstances and rather than defending the presence of its own ship in such conditions, it had time to raise up its own flag high and proud as Steven Gerrard passed a superb ball to Keane, only for the latter to oblige and deftly put into the net for some very much needed galvanized confidence.

The gales looked to be blowing into Liverpool sails for most of the first forty-five minutes but as Liverpool switched sides so have the gales. In a rather strange peculiar position for this season, as Liverpool had to administer the match rather than chase, the initiative was being slowly handed over to Atletico Madrid. The crew looked rather on the tired side too and with one very delicate voyage in a couple of days time, the captain decided it was time for the likes of Gerrard, Alonso and Keane to get back into their cabins and preserve themselves.

And then the usually strict and flawless Carragher misjudged the bounce of a ball and paved the way to Forlan to pass over to Simao and place the ball past Reina. The flag waving high and proud had to be lowered.

Still the ship continued sailing and is well on course and ahead of schedule to get into the last sixteen of Europe’s crème de le crème. As is the Liverpool way though, the course will not be as easy and a mere question of formality as it has looked after the first forty-five minutes. Only just though it seems.

Liverpool F.C. transcends. Drama, romanticism, ecstasy, despair, joy and sadness, they have all been in Liverpool’s grasp. And the latest phenomenon now is that of déjà vu. You head into half-time trailing down to a goal with stoppage time just running out. And it’s a wonder goal. One of them that you just got to put your hands up and accept as the execution has been lethal. A slow start, a calamitous mistake at the back and two goals down with just one response. We have been used to swerving it, accelerating at the very end and overtaking anything in front of us, but finally this might be one treacherous corner too far that see us, getting off the track and hitting a brick wall. Seeing Steve Bruce in their dug out does not help morale either. Especially at Anfield. That magical night at Saint Andrews feel decades ago, albeit the relative proximity. Poor first half’s are becoming the norm, where in the previous seven Premiership matches, only one goal has been scored, and it was an own goal.

As the international break left its mark on Liverpool’s playing resources, Rafa was forced to call a few changes. Jermaine Pennant found his name in the starting line-up for the first time in the Premiership, Dirk Kuyt moved upfront to partner Robbie Keane while Daniel Agger as expected partnered Jamie Carragher at the heart of defence after Martin Skrtel’s injury. A rather too casual or maybe plain inattentive Agger gifted Zaki a glorious chance which he didn’t waste but soon he redeemed himself for that mistake. Comfortable on the ball, he ran three-quarters of the length of the pitch, played a one-two with Andrei Dossena, then just went into their penalty area, slalomed past a defender and just laid a perfect pass to Kuyt with the latter simply obliging. Along Agger’s atonement it was a reminder that Kuyt in a striking position can be lethal as well, and his repositioning on the wing is surely not a relegation but an attribute of his self-less work he contributes to the team. He would later score the winner in dramatic circumstances as he scissor-kicked a Pennant cross which even though didn’t have the cleanness and precision of the earlier Zaki’s volley as it bounced off the ground and scrambled over the line through the crossbar it had a deadlier say on the final result. Early in the first half, shortly after his first goal, only bad luck eluded him from a top-notch goal as from outside the penalty area he just shot a screamer with the crossbar screaming back in agony with Chris Kirkland well beaten and the ball ending up in a throw-in such was the viciousness of the shot.

In between, it was Albert Riera’s turn to get what he deserves and get on the score-sheet for the first time. He has been consistently producing the goods for Liverpool, giving another dimension and widening their play, whilst his hard work and tackles never went amiss. With the clock ticking down, and with signs that this day was not meant to be Liverpool’s, Riera coolly and cleanly placed the ball into the corner of the net eluding a whole debris of Wigan legs.

I was hoping that finally this day would be the time when Liverpool assert themselves from the beginning and march towards another three points unscathed as possible. It was not meant to be and some might be yearning for that flawless and assertion of supremacy from start to finish as was the case against PSV in the Champions League. It might be apt though to remind that this side might be new in challenging for titles and a ragged approach has to be accepted. After days like this though it’s like looking forward for middle age sobriety after a few consecutive nights of revelry.

By the end of the first forty-five minutes, the reds on the pitch looked all over the place. While dominating possession, the lads went back to the dressing room with two goals down. And does possession supremacy wins you anything? Rafa’s predecessor Gèrard Houllier used to say ‘you keep the ball, we keep the result’. It felt like we were tasting some of our past medicine. For all the possession Liverpool had, their keeper was hardly worked, an Albert Riera shot being the only exception. And talking about the newest acquisition, he was the only one upfront who looked effective. He dribbled and went past players, back heeled every now and then. And crossed into their box, with only a Dirk Kuyt miss preventing him from having his first goal assist.

And by the end of the second forty-five minutes it was the turn of reds fans to get all over the place, bouncing all over, punching the air, hugging, spilling beer on each other and turning the earlier doubts into belief. The doubts must have been exclusive to us fans minds though. Benitez and his players seem to have an unshakeable belief in themselves. There were no rushed substitutions at the beginning of the second half. Rafa kept to what he thought was best prior to kick-off. The circumstances got completely different, but the personnel remained the same. Fernando Torres looked rather abject at first. But while his appearance looked sullen, his mind must have been still vibrating hope into his body, as class prevails over form. He just needed ten minutes and an assist by the overlapping Alvaro Arbeloa to prove it as he poked home to half the deficit.

Getting corners is sometimes as effective as half-way line throw-ins but this time a Steven Gerrard one simply paved the way for Torres to rise majestically and head home directly into their net to level the score. It was just a simple execution that this time proved effective and authoritative as any judge’s hammer knock. From then on it was just a deliberation of how long will it take their defense to succumb to Liverpool’s impetus. It took a Torres glaring miss and fifteen minutes for that to be concluded. It was only symbolic that Liverpool’s prevailing impetus got signed by Kuyt as time and again it is his selfless work that let others express themselves better and getting the plaudits.

Along with Kuyt’s match-winner, such comeback and defeat of Manchester City in their own home can be as much emblematic. It is now the fourth time this season that Liverpool overturned a result. The squad’s mindset has been accused of being fragile in the past, but this year the mindset seems to be the biggest weapon in their artillery. Alongside such mindset, the togetherness of the whole squad looks to be another ammunition. Benitez seems to have now the lads that he can trust to let attack away from home with just fifteen minutes to go after seemingly salvaging a draw. The substitutions at the end said it all and were anomalous with similar situations in the past, when attacking players were sacrificed to more defensive minded ones.

Martin Skrtel’s horrific injury is the only sour taste that is lingering on. He has been a rock alongside Jamie Carragher, whom his psychotic appearance compromised with his tackles seemed to instill fear into opposite strikers. It now paves the way to Daniel Agger who must be kicking his heels eager to prove himself all over again.

It is now time for another international break. After yesterday it feels apt to have a break as personally I felt knackered just watching it.

He was working hard enough for the team and in his own words he wasn’t getting too worried by not scoring yet. He was particularly good in the Merseyside derby last Saturday as his intelligent cross found the unmarked and coming from behind Torres to duly open the score for Liverpool. Yesterday Torres returned the compliment and crossed to him a perfectly weighted ball which Keane needed only the faintest of touches to get the ball home for his first one and Liverpool’s second on the night. And his reaction rather contradicted what he’s been saying all along. A cartwheel, a couple of pump fists and a big scream. Strikers live to score as much as birds exist to sing. Or as much as I get to work to get my pay. Simple. And it was nice to finally see the Irish newbie break his duck. He hashed up a couple of chances due to probably lack of confidence. His dry start didn’t get to Crouch’s proportions, but it was getting worrying and when talking about dryness, strikers never think of dry French wine you can savour. It’s dry throats in the desert and barren runs they think of. And now that’s over.


And Liverpool’s impressive start to the season just continues on. It was another striker who is no stranger to dry runs that found the net as early as the fourth minute. Dirk Kuyt is a workaholic. His hard work and now different positioning excuse him from a lot of stick for his barren runs every now and then. Strikers do live for goals, but then Kuyt I think lives for the team. And hard work still gets appreciated in certain parts of the world. Liverpool seems to be one of them. And while being a workaholic, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy a congratulatory drink. And yesterday that was it. Just four minutes on the clock, Gerrard whips in a corner, Torres connects superbly only to get out a top reflexive save from their keeper. And then Kuyt gets the rebound to slot it in. He just loves putting them away in Europe. His scoring’s a bit like the Anfield crowd, sometimes rather quiet in the league matches, but properly finds his voice in Europe.

And the finale was left for Gerrard who got his hundredth. A little tap from a free-kick, a short run and just a shot combining power and accuracy to achieve the impressive landmark and confirm the three points are all Liverpool’s. There wasn’t ever any doubt there. PSV never offered any threat, the mighty reds were all over them. But what could have been another European night, where tickets failed to get sold out, took a rather different dimension and a record got stamped on.

A clean sheet got tainted twelve minutes from time, but one spelling mistake won’t ruin a book. It’s been a well consistent start so far. It is still early days but not only you can beat what’s in front of you, but also you can only add up what numbers are offered to you. And Liverpool are doing that so far.