A lot of perceived excellent and awe-inspiring views and scenes look better from afar. Sometimes the expectation is even better than the occasion itself. The ugliness and damage of something though, always have to be seen closely or even better touched to get to understand its whole ramifications. Yesterday while standing at the JJB Stadium, I was a witness of all this theory. I just saw all the hopes and dreams of this season deteriorating before my bare eyes. What makes it strange though though, was it didn’t hurt much. Were I watching it on the box as usual from our club, I would have been livid with such a result, especially given the circumstances from which it arose. The cat community would have been forever thankful that none of its members are present in my household. My heart thumped a couple of faster than usual notches when the penalty was awarded and duly put away by their newcomer Mido, but nothing more than that. Rather than the pain from the injection needle I could only feel its numbness. I waited patiently for the final whistle and then quietly made my way to meet a couple of mates by the agreed beforehand pole, who were at the same match but standing away from me. Any hope of defeating Wigan, and get back on the winning track were put to sleep by the 82nd minute penalty. In the next second they were buried by the withdrawal of Steven Gerrard. The captain was far from his superlative self, but such desperate situation might not have been beyond him to save.

The midfield partnership of Lucas Leiva and Javier Mascherano is as tantalizing and inspiring as this suited, white haired, late fifties man sitting a couple of seats before me on the train reading The S*n newspaper. It just doesn’t add up. It’s been tried, it’s been tested, it’s been proved faulty. Something changed. And it seems not just in me. The latest mention of Everton in a press conference sounds cheap to me. Trouble has long been brewing in the corridors of power at Anfield. It now seems to be getting out of proportion, and the players’ form looks to be effected. These latest outbursts by Rafael Benitez seem just intent to camouflage the pressure and uncertainty surrounding him and his situation. There’s nothing wrong in that but his decision making seem to be effected negatively by it all. Five years at the hot-seat of Anfield seem to be taking its toll. His witty remarks used to complement perfectly his sharp decision making. Now he almost sounds loquacious.

I am not questioning the manager. He did make us dream but at the moment, am just wide awake with the smell of the coffee savagely infiltrating my nostrils. The outbursts have failed to grey the black situation at the boardroom, but if anything the current seemingly eternal grey, grey clouds of England seem to blend perfectly with the situation at Anfield. Next Sunday is either a confirmation of it all, or some sort of reprieve.