In a season of relative ups and downs, yesterday at Craven Cottage Liverpool found the perfect balance as they registered the eighth defeat after eight victories. Draws are yet to be recorded. Admittedly in the Premiership, Liverpool are faring slightly better as they have six victories against five defeats. I feel like popping out the champagne but it’s too early for that and I’ve still got the taste of toothpaste in my mouth.
This season has Gerard Houllier’s last two years in charges written all over it and Black November hasn’t even started. Last Sunday was such a great day, and yes I got carried away. I haven’t felt like that for ages. For all the alienations, the indulging razzmatazz, I didn’t care as proper football and in particular Liverpool Football Club over do them all. And they still do matter, but I can’t get my head round it. It’s just not driving me round the bend though as it used to. Yesterday was frustrating but it was far from shocking. For all the hopes and anticipation you get before kick-off there’s always the self-doubt lurking around. And it is getting the better of all other emotions. Really though, the Mancs match was a simple reprieve from a disastrous campaign, that numbed for a moment the ills of the state of Liverpool Football Club.
The pre-match discussion was all about the missing lads in action as Glen Johnson, Steven Gerrard and Fabio Aurelio went missing from the travelling coach, never mind the first eleven. Injuries and viruses are playing their part in this fast downfall. Still, the first moments were giving healthy signs and the chosen eleven will be more than up to the task ahead of them. They made the ball theirs, knocked the ball around decently enough and knocked on Mark Schwarzer’s goal regularly. They were hit by a sucker punch as a quick counter-attack undid Liverpool and gave Fulham a 1-0 lead shortly after Yossi Benayoun went excruciatingly close to open the score as he rattled the crossbar. Heads never went down though, and shortly before half-time Fernando Torres pounced down on a poor headed clearance and with technical aplomb shot home from outside the penalty area.
The second forty-five minutes were a missemblance of the prior forty-five, where you’d think it’s one of those useless international friendlies where the manager changes the whole eleven. Torres was subbed on the 63rd minute, but Ryan Babel would have probably proved more useful jogging on the sidelines delivering the odd drink to his mates. The knockings on Mark Schwarzer’s goal all ceased and there were loud doorbells ringing at the other end that Pepe Reina had to finally succumb to on the 73rd minute. Philip Degen got harshly sent off, Jamie Carragher less so and the writing on the wall turned on the scoreboard as Clint Dempsey found the net to finish off Liverpool.
The big question remains what happened to last season’s guts, character, reversals of deficits, long winning sequences and most notably the explosive finish. The club is in a mess, the team is in a turmoil, the manager seems to be stuck and unable to do anything about this blood clot that is severely restraining his side’s movement into the table and giving high warnings of a big stroke that will render unthinkable side effects and impairment of movements for years to come. If Liverpool can’t replicate a decent forty-five minutes, fifteen minutes later, how can you expect a replication of last season? The damage is done, the hope is extinguished. We will trudge along, starting from France next Wednesday, where the balance between victories and defeats will have to go one way or to another write-off of a competition.
This season has Gerard Houllier’s last two years in charges written all over it and Black November hasn’t even started. Last Sunday was such a great day, and yes I got carried away. I haven’t felt like that for ages. For all the alienations, the indulging razzmatazz, I didn’t care as proper football and in particular Liverpool Football Club over do them all. And they still do matter, but I can’t get my head round it. It’s just not driving me round the bend though as it used to. Yesterday was frustrating but it was far from shocking. For all the hopes and anticipation you get before kick-off there’s always the self-doubt lurking around. And it is getting the better of all other emotions. Really though, the Mancs match was a simple reprieve from a disastrous campaign, that numbed for a moment the ills of the state of Liverpool Football Club.
The pre-match discussion was all about the missing lads in action as Glen Johnson, Steven Gerrard and Fabio Aurelio went missing from the travelling coach, never mind the first eleven. Injuries and viruses are playing their part in this fast downfall. Still, the first moments were giving healthy signs and the chosen eleven will be more than up to the task ahead of them. They made the ball theirs, knocked the ball around decently enough and knocked on Mark Schwarzer’s goal regularly. They were hit by a sucker punch as a quick counter-attack undid Liverpool and gave Fulham a 1-0 lead shortly after Yossi Benayoun went excruciatingly close to open the score as he rattled the crossbar. Heads never went down though, and shortly before half-time Fernando Torres pounced down on a poor headed clearance and with technical aplomb shot home from outside the penalty area.
The second forty-five minutes were a missemblance of the prior forty-five, where you’d think it’s one of those useless international friendlies where the manager changes the whole eleven. Torres was subbed on the 63rd minute, but Ryan Babel would have probably proved more useful jogging on the sidelines delivering the odd drink to his mates. The knockings on Mark Schwarzer’s goal all ceased and there were loud doorbells ringing at the other end that Pepe Reina had to finally succumb to on the 73rd minute. Philip Degen got harshly sent off, Jamie Carragher less so and the writing on the wall turned on the scoreboard as Clint Dempsey found the net to finish off Liverpool.
The big question remains what happened to last season’s guts, character, reversals of deficits, long winning sequences and most notably the explosive finish. The club is in a mess, the team is in a turmoil, the manager seems to be stuck and unable to do anything about this blood clot that is severely restraining his side’s movement into the table and giving high warnings of a big stroke that will render unthinkable side effects and impairment of movements for years to come. If Liverpool can’t replicate a decent forty-five minutes, fifteen minutes later, how can you expect a replication of last season? The damage is done, the hope is extinguished. We will trudge along, starting from France next Wednesday, where the balance between victories and defeats will have to go one way or to another write-off of a competition.
posted by jean paul at 9:22 am
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