Make Us Dream

2010-03-21T22:44:00.000+01:00

It all started in December 2006 when I was properly mad about anything Liverpool FC and anything that’s got to do with the city of Liverpool. Twenty-seven months down the line, and this is the final post. Not that it will do much difference to you, and let’s face it, it shouldn’t. But this has been a kind of a personal diary, and rather than throwing it in the fireplace I just decided to put it into a box in the attic. The cyber world though allows you to have a peek into it every now and then. Once again, I assume it won’t do you much of a difference, but this was a kind of a challenge for me, and maybe more than that, was somewhat therapeutic. Most times, I probably wouldn’t put my point properly during the autopsy of the match at our club, so this was a good medium. Most posts were simply monologues, but admittedly I used to get flattered when the odd soul told me that he read my posts.

Once a red, always a red. Yes, I think it’s right. Deep down, I am a red, but a fanatic I am no longer. I am disillusioned with everything that’s got to do with football. Or more precisely, with anything that’s got to do with modern football. It’s a replication of everything that’s wrong in the big capitalist wide world. And I just can’t justify myself giving my everything to a football club, that I really believed that is different from everyone else, but at the moment it just feels like any other.

Messrs Hicks & Gillett probably drove me to this situation. But let’s have a stern look at the mirror and admit that we invited this in a way. We wanted a bigger investment. We welcomed them with arms wider than the old Kemlyn stand. Did we expect two Yanks that have football in their blood as much as I have got love for the Mancs, will just invest funds in this club without expecting a fat dividend cheque? You might argue Roman Abrahmovic did that. True. Equally true is we used to sneer at them. They just buy trophies. Do I want to spend my life following somebody else trying to buy a trophy? Or buying a place in next year’s Champions League?

I used to adore every single player that wore the Liverbird. The situation developed into a way that we actually adore the Liverbird rather than the players themselves. But really, they are the main actors of the game. They are the main representatives of the club. The club is remembered for its players. You can’t really love the music if you don’t like the instruments. There was once a time, when players had something in common with the spectators. Now tell me, what you have got in common with the likes of Gerrard and Torres? We support them, or at least we try to convince ourselves that our vocal chords can make a difference to them. Make them run the extra mile. All we do, is help pay their obscene amounts into their bank accounts.

There is no bigger game than the Mancs at Old Trafford. Players are expected to run through brick walls. They are our living legends after all. Looking back, I was one who loved waxing lyrical about some player’s performance. Heroic, godly, and shite like that. Nowadays, I look at them and wince. Take this season for a start and throw the manager into the equation for equal measure. The situation at the club could never help, but these are lads that are still getting paid filthy amounts. Some even, offered extension of their contracts. The performances for most of the season have veered from pathetic to distressing. They have been an insult not only to the paying public, but to every decent worker around the four corners of the world.

It’s the way it goes, you might add. It might be, I know I can’t fight it, but at least I just don’t want to be part of it or even a spectator anymore. I have experiences some incredible highs with this club, mostly through my own madness and obsession. I will treasure them, but I can’t be bothered looking for much more through this. It’s simply a fraudulent high.

The lads went to Old Trafford. The lads meekly gave up. It doesn’t even hurt. And now I know, not only something has changed, but something has died.

This blog is now closed.

2010-02-11T22:31:00.000+01:00

The seven match unbeaten run found its brick wall through the surroundings of North London, giving way to the eight defeat of the Premiership campaign. The Emirates Stadium proved once again to be as welcoming to Liverpool as much as an asylum after a long trip. It is hardly the most hostile stadium imaginable, as the calculating orders of Arsene Wenger can be probably heard from the very back row, but it seems the silence of the place has once again undone the men playing in red. Fittingly enough with the settings, circumstances and short history of the place, on the fourth minute of supplementary time, the man in the middle, the man in black proved to be as providential as a deportation officer, when a blatant handball by Cesc Fabregas was looked over to deny Liverpool one last chance to shoot at goal just outside the penalty area.

Coming from two straight defeats, Arsenal were feared to be like a wounded animal raring to take its own revenge, but really they resembled more a tamed animal, with Liverpool resembling a guard, keeping a stern eye on them rather than taking them on. Once again, the total commitment could be felt but equally enough the lack of flair was apparent as simple passes went astray and with some small exceptions Liverpool managed to get in the face of Arsenal after going a goal down, without ever going to the jugular.

The real backbone of the unbeaten run has been the stubbornness of the back four and the agility of Pepe Reina, with clean sheets subsequently being a tangible result and the springboard for five wins from seven matches. When the back four were undone to the extent of affording Diaby a whole goalmouth to gape at on the 72nd minute, it was always going to be a tall order to extend the unbeaten run. It was only Ryan Babel that seriously threatened to do so when with one delightful touch, he lost his marker and let go a vicious shot that Manuel Almunia did exceptionally well to tip delicately over the bar. Other loose balls bounced kindly enough in the path of Maxi Rodriguez more than once but the Argentine reacted with askew shots.

The little window that in the circumstances had the panoramic view of the third place has been now firmly shut. The race for the fourth place is getting more jumbled, and looks set to be won from the team who will drop the least points. A trip to the City of Manchester Stadium in more than a week’s time will enlighten us whether yesterday was a case of the particular Emirates stadium being very unwelcoming and one place too high to climb for this season, or the travel sickness persisting through out this current season.

2010-02-08T21:14:00.000+01:00

Saturday night, I was sitting there at this acoustic gig, and this one song summed up the season that we have been all going through. We travelled afar with someone we love, and then something bad happened, and you just couldn’t point your finger where this altercation has actually happened. But you’re going back in the car for the long road, and there’s hardly a word, not even a glance and her eyes are fixed on the black tarmac. And the radio is obviously not working. There are just hisses that admittedly are an apt soundtrack for this situation. Depression and tension are the new horse and carriage. And who you thought is unique, is just another run of the mill shite, who pays to get suntanned.

But the team that Rafa built seems to be no other run of the mill. It’s got its limitations, but deep down there is a heart beating that after a seemingly cardiac arrest, it’s getting back, beating like a drum machine with the occasional cymbals accompanying the consistent beat. The man who is personifying all this is the Dutchman Dirk Kuyt, who has been pilloried and mocked this season as much as Carra used to be in his early days. But this lad, puts his head down to graft and only puts it up to head in a perfectly taken Steven Gerrard corner.

The new cult hero, The Greek in capital letters, was having a solid start, but then a rush of blood to his head cut short his presence in his first Merseyside derby. Lady Adversity was staring Liverpool in her eyes, but the adrenaline of the new Liverpool heartbeat kept it going, and if it weren’t for the final whistle it would probably be still going now, a going 48 hours afterwards. There was commitment coupled with adroitness. Hope coupled with conviction. Midfielders ended up as right-backs, and scorers ended up as goal-line clearers.

The nagging doubt that this run of form is purely a false dawn is now turning into a conviction that this is part of a long run of form synonymous with Rafa’s reign. The back four are immaculate, clean sheets being the order of the day as white sheets on hospital beds. The home form at the moment is superior to what it was at this time last year.

Notwithstanding, the two games in hand Manchester City possess Liverpool are now in the driving seat for the admittedly last minute ticket for the Champions League. This current Liverpool side looks to be a creature of habit, it has gone through desperate runs where losing became a habit, but is now on the ride of a sizable wave, and riding the wave on a board rather than getting all wet no matter the size of the wave is all that this side wants. The back four will have to be reshuffled but the current habit of a clean sheet can be the catalyst of bigger things to come.

If anything, the same radio that was sending only hisses, is now functioning properly and there are tunes that makes you nod your head unknowingly.

2010-01-30T20:36:00.000+01:00

The first exchanges looked to be a continuation of the dismal Molineux display. By the end, the only continuation was the stream of clean sheets, and another good performance by Sotorios Kyrgiakos, better known as The Greek. And yes, in capital letters. An aerial presence in the back four has been a necessity as a whole conundrum about defending set-pieces has been a stable point in discussing the ills of Liverpool Football Club on the pitch. His height and aerial ability did give Liverpool something else, but today it was his feet and vision that kept a clean sheet, and denied Bolton an early lead that could have been a big blow to a fragile confidence. As Martin Skrtel was left for dead by a rampaging Chung-Yong Lee, and Pepe Reina somewhat rounded Kyrgiakos placed himself perfectly to clear off the line. When signing, Kyrgiakos called his move to Liverpool a dream move, that admittedly only happened only because of the dire situation Liverpool’s bank account is in, but he is making the most of such situation and his endeavour is a joy to watch.

The first scorer was another hard worker, that again proved when he’s got time to be in the opposition penalty area rather than the touchline, he can make his presence felt and remind that his predatory instincts are still intact. It was a good cross from the left by Emiliano Insua that was nodded down from the far corner into the path of the Dutch, with the latter admittedly only poking in with the delicacy of Tom Hicks’ son replying to a fan’s email. Like with the latter’s, the message got through fine enough.

Liverpool improved during the second forty-five minutes, with the captain particularly imposing himself further into the game and seemingly shaking off any traces of rust that looked to have hindered so much at Molineux. After David Ngog missed a sitter, it had to be an own goal that wrapped it all up for Liverpool, as a shot by Insua was turned in by Kevin Davies. Alberto Aquilani got substituted by Lucas Leiva, and while it may sound as a mere protection of a two goal lead, it gave Liverpool a further attacking impetus, after a rather shoddy display by the Italian, with many passes going astray and in perspective a reminder that dropping him for the Molineux match was not such a travesty. The Italian lad seems to be still on the mend, both physically and mentally.

A flurry of late chances were never converted to goals, but it was spiriting to see. Liverpool are now going through their best period of the season. Admittedly it does not say a lot, but four wins and no defeats in the last six matches is far from a bad return either. The home form so far in the league is as good as last season’s this time this year, with an actual superior goal difference.
Tom Hicks and George Gillett were apparently both at Anfield, but such a fact will be probably rubbed off like a drop of ink on a cheque paying their expenses for their trouble of getting at the mecca.

2010-01-21T00:33:00.001+01:00

He sometimes gets cheekily called Rafa’s son. In a more brazen way some call him Rafa’s pet. I wonder how the imaginative rumours have never had him as Rafa’s dressing-room informant. Most of the time he is asked to play on the lateral side of the field, today though, with the stakes being extremely high and the injury list looking as long as a NHS waiting list he has been asked to lead the line on his own and rather than digging a furrow on the sidelines to let the rainwater drift, he was asked to get the shovel and get into the thick of it as there has been too much snow that was threatening to paralyse the system. And Dirk Kuyt not only didn’t disappoint but reminded us that a working man can have his hand full of callus but that doesn’t mean he carries no charm.

It was as early as the fifth minute when Pepe Reina had a long kick that was chested coolly by the same Dutchman. Alberto Aquilani was the closest and laid it off to him. From outside the penalty area, Kuyt this time thought only of the target and his accurate shot was too much for the six clean-sheets in a row Heruelho Gomez and put Liverpool in front.

The remaining forty minutes of the first half were not always easy on the eye. Tottenham were sometimes showing the better ideas but the eleven redmen on the pitch made up for it with enough grit to build a new ground. Jamie Carragher rounded up the lads for a pre-match huddle before kick-off and like he did to Jerzy Dudek in Istanbul prior to the shoot-out he reminded them that it’s time to get dirty, fight for the cause and push the boundaries. And he then personified the battle and his words, in a particular moment busting his guts to win a corner as he outpaced Gareth Bale in the process. The makeshift central defensive pairing of Martin Skrtel and Sotirios Kyrgiakos held its own, with the latter particularly bustling around making up for his limitations with his enthusiasm as his hair fly around.

The second forty-five minutes started with a scare as a mix-up between the same Greek and Reina allowed Jermaine Defoe to undo Reina’s possession of the ball and prod home. The referee though rightly spotted an infringement during the course of action and disallowed the goal. Anfield felt rather shaken by the let-off and murmurs were taking place the sing-songs. At times like these, even the sight of a ping-pong ball can be mistaken for that of a golf ball ready to be lurched at you. But Anfield today was no golf course and the defence had no holes in it. It was actually Liverpool that threatened mostly to score the second goal of the game, and it was only Philip Degen’s strange reluctance in front of goal that didn’t close the game, when a great move and then pass by Kuyt paved it all for him.

David Ngog was given the nod to have the last ten minutes of the match in place of the tiring Alberto Aquilani and to stretch Spurs further. He did his job admirably, made space for himself to have a shot at goal and then won the penalty. Kuyt took the responsibility. He showed the instinct of a striker, sent the keeper one way and the ball powerfully the other way. He was though asked to retake his kick after an apparent encroachment that must have had an effect on the keeper as much as a tax forms have on Harry Redknapp. But Dirk Kuyt wasn’t too effected as he retook the kick and sent Gomes once again the wrong way.

As Rafa Benitez waved back to the Kop, Liverpool got just one point away from the same Spurs. False dawns we had many so far, but a replication of the energy exerted by the men in red today will be enough to light the whole city for the rest of the season.

2010-01-16T18:27:00.001+01:00

I have promised myself not to watch this match. Wednesday was bad. Result apart. The performance looked to have been somewhat scripted by Stephen King. We were expecting a belated pantomime and King seemed to have delivered as the farce was evident, but his second nature seemed to get the better of him as in the final act all there was for it, was blood as while the axe was dangling, nobody bothered getting at least out of the way.

I am a routine person by nature and by Friday evening I knew that I cannot miss what have I done for the past twelve odd years. Apologies were forthcoming, rallying cries were being heard, but when you know someone is almost dead on the kerb after being hit, the ambulance siren is more a formality than a straw to cling to.

The other formality was the team line-up. There might have been hopes that the newly signed Maxi Rodriguez will sign but I think the eleven men chose themselves, mostly due to lack of other options rather than by choice. But choices for us at the moment are as realistic as a beggar’s. And for a change, some of the players looked like beggars, as they begged and hurried for the ball all over the place. There wasn’t much quality shown, but when you’re in wretched clothes in the middle of winter, you’re not after designer labels but after anything that can warm you for a while.

And personally, I did warm a bit. The stars were sidelined, not because they’re too aloof but because circumstances dictated so. The first forty-five minutes weren’t easy on the eye but the heart kept beating, and the score-line ended as it started.

Then, from the unlikeliest of sources came the opener. Philip Degen was bursting forward and got fouled. Fabio Aurelio took charge and whipped the ball inside their area. Before we knew it, the net was bulging as Sotiros Kyrgiakos poked the ball in as the ex-Evertonian with the gloves mishandled. Liverpool kept fighting, but Stoke kept knocking and looked dangerous from set-pieces, and as the script for a bruised Liverpool demanded they leveled the score at the dying minute when another defender poked in following a set-piece.

Demanding fight from a Liverpool and being satisfied because you’ve got it is bogglish. In normal times at least. But these are no normal times. They’re supposed to complement each other as loyalty and dog. This is a time when the name of Liverpool Football Club is in peril. Everybody’s pointing fingers there and there. Still we seem to all agree that from top to bottom the club is in a rotten state. And even when you’ve paid good money, you’d be happy to find one good apple after a series of bad ones. It seems to be the law of relativity or maybe better the law of the market. It might be over the odds but common sense does not really prevail in today’s world.
In the grander scheme of things, by the end of the match and after seeing today’s results Liverpool are even further off a Champions League place. Liverpool will be missing the gravy train. When a city is in ruins though, the railway station is only a periphery.

2010-01-03T08:26:00.000+01:00

Last minute winner. Back to back wins. Galvanise!

I had the Chemical Brothers ringing in my ears, with their fast beats drilling a hole in my eardrums in the build-up. For the aftermath though I had Noah and the Whale melancholically reminding me that it has to be restarted again. Confidence, or better the lack of it has been the main curse and the easiest scapegoat for the lack of cohesiveness and the disjointed performances of the season. Back in October, a superb victory and performance over the Mancs failed to inject any of it into the lads. Fernando Torres’s clinical finish at the very end at Villa Park seems to have only injected adrenaline into the fans rather than into his team mates. I am here thinking the materialistic Yanks at the helm are at this moment probably googling it as if it were a commodity but they’ve given up as it doesn’t guarantee an immediate dividend. Anyway the idea of a replay at Anfield and 40,000 filled seats is a much better business proposition.

The changes in the starting line-up were minimal. Daniel Agger, Alberto Aquilani and Yossi Benayoun were rested making way for Stephen Darby, Martin Skrtel and Fabio Aurelio. With Rafa’s standards of rotations the changes were slight and understandable. Skrtel though displayed not lack of confidence but lack of co-ordination of his whole body and alongside the no-nonsense Jamie Carragher the ball, when sometimes won could only be hoofed in the air. The omission of Aquilani in the midfield was rather understandable. Him, having only had maybe 200 minutes of football so far, such a tie was definitely not prescribed for his slow convalescence. But here lays the question, when an underdog is hassling you with some in-your-face football, do you get back to his face or belittle him by getting all smart and get him on the deck. At times, Liverpool failed to do either. The midfield was getting outrun, and the back four were replying with panicked hoofs. The ball seemed to hit the pitch only to bounce away.

Steven Gerrard’s reply to Simon Church’s 24th minute opener was a cross shot helped by a Dirk Kuyt futile attempt to connect that undone their keeper. The momentum was then with the reds and the half-time whistle was ill-timed from Liverpool’s perspective. The final whistle wasn’t as unwelcomed albeit few moments before Torres went agonisingly close to get another match-winner as his header ended on the roof of the net rather than under.

A replay at home when playing inferior opposition is akin to a suspended sentence. It is still a welcomed chance in the rehabilitation process that Liverpool are hopefully currently undergoing, and a stark reminder that saving a bit of the season can only be a slow process.

2009-12-29T23:59:00.001+01:00

The snow just fell down through the whole match with the same consistency that Liverpool provided negative performances in this season on all fronts so far. And it was as agreeable on the pitch as the negative performances are on any red’s morale. The ball was leaving trails behind as clear as the one the table was showing between Liverpool and the same Aston Villa.

Snow is only nice on a postcard. Torres’s finish tonight though was as picturesque as any White Christmas postcard. And like some postcards today, at times he was being put on the sides gathering dust, but like when out of nowhere a coach load of tourists come over, you know they only need a quick brush of their dust and they will do the business, no matter the hour. And that was it today. Dirk Kuyt pounced on a loose ball, Torres was fed and the rest is as predictable as the sight of a snowman in the festive season.

The men in temporary white put in a good shift in the first forty-five minutes. It was as far away from the debacle against Portsmouth as summer must have felt far away under the driving snow. Alberto Aquilani earned another start alongside Lucas Leiva and Steven Gerrard looked to has put his recent woes behind him. He tested Brad Friedel’s fingers with a beautiful dip and the men around him followed his energy levels. There were the usual ineffective corners and frights from corners at the other end but Liverpool looked on top of the game. The lads were stern while creating openings, even though the main and sole man upfront was finding it difficult and looked frozen out.

The second forty-five minutes continued in the same vein, while admittedly Aston Villa rather upped their tempo, and had their man upfront Gabriel Agbonlahor testing Pepe Reina. Jamie Carragher slipped in one particular moment and paved the way for the Agbonlahor to run towards goals but Reina bid his time on the line and proved too big for the same lad as he blocked his shot. Quick off his line last Saturday against Wolves but rooted on his lines this time around, timing is one asset the Spaniard possess.

At times it felt like it’s going to be like the Lyon away match all over. A solid performance, chances created but eventually got to do with a draw that benefits the opposition more. And at times, with their crowd behind them, the pace of Agbonlahor and the height of Carew, sharing of the spoils didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. With the fourth official showing four extra minutes, a draw did not only feel like a truce but also the only negotiable deal. But then again, like most exquisite things in the world, Torres proved to be beyond negotiations and trebled the one point on offer. The morale of every red was up the roof and hopefully every squad member’s followed.

Two minutes later, the man in black blew the final whistle. Torres not exactly punched the air in delight as much as fisted off the thick air with all its adversities that these last few months represented. It is no use getting carried away but tomorrow and the following match are definitely to be looked forward to.

2009-12-27T08:19:00.001+01:00

He ran the whole length of the pitch again. This time not to celebrate and lift David Ngog high, but to simply remonstrate to the man in black that he has actually yellow carded the wrong lad. The one who committed the offence had just been booked minutes before and thus a red card had to follow. Pepe Reina is looking the more as a leader. During the first forty-five minutes he was pivotal to keep the score-line level. In a way, it is demeaning that with Wolves calling at Anfield I am here typing the merits of the goalkeeper, but such is the state of things at Anfield. Shortly afterwards though it was the man with the armband that rose to the occasion, metaphorically and literally.

Emiliano Insua did well to lose his man and deliver a good cross from the left-hand side of the pitch. Surrounded by two defenders in gold though it was Steven Gerrard that wanted it all the more and showed his primitive instincts as between them both he connected with the ball and thumped home. Gerrard rose to the occasion in more than one way. He was seriously off-form and at times rather than stepping above his mates, he was getting carried away by the mediocrity current that was engulfing the men in red. Not yesterday though. He looked to decide to get back to his basics, and with that he flirted dangerously with the referee’s book. Like when still a young scally he slided on the pitch, and more than once he caught somebody’s legs. Nothing malicious, but simple hunger. The cause justified the means. In such circumstances, we had not to simply accept but admire. After all even a reverend justified shoplifting by the needy.

The first forty-five minutes were an example of agitation. Passes went astray, Fernando Torres couldn’t get anything right. As poor his service was, at times he simply miscued and looked to be in need of chalk. Alberto Aquilani finally started. He looks composed, he’s got elegant touches, and as a Roman he seems to be coming more from the Sistine Chapel rather than the Colliseum. Back-heels look to be his bread and butter and he seems to have been sharing it often with his captain, he used it a couple of times yesterday.

Gerrard brought relief, shortly afterwards Yossi brought relaxation as he shot home again to cap another satisfactory personal display. This was very much needed but this is more of a resolution to get things done rather than the actual deed.

2009-12-20T08:57:00.001+01:00

Seven is said to be a lucky number. In the world of Liverpool Football Club, it holds a mythical status, the number worn by legends, that though on a day like this, it’s not apt to name. Yesterday, it represented the number of defeats out of eighteen matches. A total higher than what this side has endured in the precedent two seasons. It is as disturbing as that.

The home victory over Wigan on Shankly’s 50th anniversary was only a slight reprieve after all. Against a side at the bottom of Premiership, Liverpool scored a blank and conceded twice. Portsmouth are resurging at the moment, and we shouldn’t take the difference in positions too seriously as at the end of the day, this result put Liverpool thirteen points above the same side at the mentioned position on even games, and the same number of points adrift the leading Chelsea with a game in hand. I firmly believe that the manager and his whole squad punched well above their weight last season, but these last couple of months they are equally punching below their weight. And they are still in the ring for the sole reason that it’s big enough. The farces occurring are making the ring look more like a wrestling one rather than one fit for boxing.

Again, they started reasonably well enough. Then they conceded and their white shirt looked more like white flags. Javier Mascherano’s red card was definitely on the harsh side but the reaction was as limping as the same Argentinean’s exit.

The club is in dire straits. The boardroom is probably as disarrayed as a kids’ playroom. But still what we are witnessing on the pitch is unacceptable. Whatever the whole situation is, the lads are still getting their dues at the end of the week, they are still wearing the Liverbird on their chest, they still have the manager that signed them, and thousands still make awful long journeys to support them because that’s the only way they know. The manager will obviously be getting most of the flak. His team is not shielding him, and he is looking like a newcomer rather than a manager on his second contract. He is baffling his own people with his own decisions as the inclusion of Andrea Dossena attests. He was putting his wits against an Israeli yesterday, and he looked like a poor Palestinian repelling their fires with rocks as he put on Fabio Aurelio, Yossi Benayoun and strangely enough Jay Spearing, such lowly was their impact. The problems at the boardroom look to have created a vacuum between him and his squad that is stifling his influence on them. Else, his problems with the same boardroom has stiffened him as much to the extent he can’t feel and touch the reality and state of play that his side is providing.

Going back to the basics might be a start but like Glen Johnson’s poor clearance that paved the way to their opener, it seems the club is in such a mire that it is a step forward beyond us to get to the basics rather than a natural step backwards for a pause of breath.

2009-12-17T10:31:00.001+01:00

Remembering Bill Shankly’s arrival at the club has become a fixture and a duty. A mosaic is displayed, his then players strut out on the pitch and his own favourite tune, ‘Amazing Grace’ is played. Ten years ago, Coventry City happened to be the guests and a then a newly built Houllier side dispatched the guests empty handed after two goals by a certain young kid and Titi Camara. That day the Kop commemorated the past but was also looking forward to the future, as the likes of Steven Gerrard, Michael Owen and David Thompson were showing promises that the glory days are not too far away. And they could have no safer hands than the Frenchman’s. Some promises were kept, some were exceeded, some fell by the sidelines, others came back to try to haunt us. Step forward ten years, and I think most of us wanted to celebrate Bill Shankly’s arrival to forget the ignominious present.

But for ninety minutes the happenings on the pitch were not bad, and if the final 2-1 score-line was offered before kick-off it would have left the offeror with both his hands scarred. It was not pretty at times, but it was never ugly either. For all the myths and stories that surround Shankly, such games did happen under his tenure and at the end of the day the three points were deserved by Liverpool.

With Fernando Torres on the bench, David Ngog was given another start and Dirk Kuyt was pushed forward alongside the new kid and dare I say, the one-off positive aspect of the season so far. Kuyt proved he does have a striker’s instinct, albeit not finding the net but he was on target a couple of times testing the ex Chris Kirkland’s reflexes to the limit. Then again without any argument, Ngog proved he knows and feels where the net is. Fabio Aurelio’s delivery was penetrative, Ngog kept on the last man’s shoulders to beat the offside trap and then rose high enough to beat the approaching keeper. It was a sigh of relief but after what happened against the likes of Birmingham and as recent as last Sunday nothing could be taken for granted. The first half continued with Liverpool on top, without doing anything special but at the other end of the pitch, Reina’s main problem must have been to keep warm.

Wigan improved during the second forty-five minutes and it was the crossbar that kept them from leveling the score after a rare lapse by Reina. The chance was never too convincing either, and it was one reprieve that Liverpool deserved both on the basis of this match alone and more than that on what this whole season has offered. Torres entered the fray and naturally found the net in front of the Kop, albeit without the usual aplomb as after rounding his keeper he looked to unbalanced himself and his first attempt was somewhat scrambled away.

The clean sheet got marred at the end, it seems Reina had to be punished after the earlier sortie. The three points were already wrapped though and being the festive period it was only the wrapper that got scratched.

2009-12-14T21:00:00.001+01:00

It was the great Jean Paul Sartre who once said, ‘In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team’. I loathe to disagree with the French philosopher, but if anything, yesterday such quote felt hollow. At the moment, the redmen or is it the lads that happen to wear a red shirt while plying their supposed trade proved that they are their own worst enemies. A game of football is a tale of two halves. Yesterday we saw two completely different teams with their red shirt being their only common denominator.

I had a good feeling from early Sunday morning. For the umpteenth time, I left my heart rule my head, and am hopeless with that when it comes with this club. The forty-five minutes proved that a pumping heart can overdo any sensible head. It was a joy to watch. The reds plied their pressure, the lads looked on the same wavelength, the opposition was reduced not to a complicated formula but to a simple variable that was there to make a statement of intent possible. With the variable being no-one less than Wenger’s Arsenal, the statement was weighing heavier. All the problems looked so far away.

And then came the second half, the second version and the accustomed version of this season arose to the fore. The pressure was leaked out, the wavelength they were operating on looked refracted, the opposition was given the freedom of the pitch as if they were all Shankly’s relatives on his fiftieth anniversary.

I cannot get it, I cannot fathom it, and in a way I hope I will never do. Arsenal are a great side. Their first goal was only an unlucky own goal. I give you all that, but the reaction and the whole performance of the second forty-five minutes was downright abysmal. The lads have been having a difficult season. There were injuries, the atmosphere at Melwood must have been far from ideal. But, if you can’t take heart from a splendid forty-five minutes of football, and carry it from there, then something must be simply rotten.

Whether I agree or not, the call for Rafa’s head is in a way understandable. As much as he got the plaudits for last year’s heroics, he must be at least partly responsible for this mess. Something though is even worse than this. I can’t trust the present owners to be able to attract a decent manager. Rafa’s contract makes it even worse. The gun might firing blanks most of the time, but it seems to change the gun we have to sell all the ammo we’ve got. And either way we’re truly fucked.

Rallies of cry have come and gone. Carra has been asking for a show of character after every match. Quit it lad, it is as convincing as a teleshopping salesman selling pills cutting fat without working out. A brilliant performance against the Mancs didn’t manage to raise the lads. Every word, every interview sounds futile to me.

Something is deeply rotten. From the very top to the very bottom. Has Rafa lost his dressing room? Most of the lads should thank their lucky stars they are representing the Liver Bird. We are zombied. And something tells me the worse is still to come.

2009-12-13T08:25:00.002+01:00

The 2009 A to Z of Liverpool F.C.

Aquilani, twenty million pound signing. So far, conspicuous by his absence. Former boss stated he is made of Swarovski crystal. He’s that precious, or is he so breakable. He hasn’t properly started yet to say but am going to wait. I am used to it.

Bragging rights. First goal might have been deflected. The Argentinean though still ran madly the length of the pitch and for a moment he must have forgot about Barcelona. And then the Dutch workhorse added another. The underclass of Merseyside were put in their place and bragging rights in the city for 2009 were secured.

Close, how closer can you get? 86 points, 77 goals, just 2 defeats. It’s excruciating thinking about it.

Debt I buy. I own. I put the cost on you. I riddle the club with my debt. The debt becomes yours. The American/capitalist way of buying a club. It worked with Kellogg’s. Liverpool Football Club might be slightly different. We wait with trepidation.

Easy, the way, Torres makes it all look.

Four goals scored at Old Trafford. Against one. And still he claims they were the better side. Well, as one respected Manc editor once said, ‘Comment is free, but facts are sacred’. It was sweet. It was brilliant. It hurt them like hi-gene on their warts.

Glandular, See for letter ‘d’. It is choking the club, it is worse than glandular fever.

Hurt, a 20th anniversary of the worst day in the story of this club. A reminder of 20 years of hurt.

Ignominious, Hick’s and Gillette’s tenure.

Jig of delight by Mr Michael Owen in front of the Kop that never happened. And 2009 is so much better for it.

Kaleidoscopical, Liverpool’s form at the latter part of the year.

Lumbering, Carra’s form at times. And I hate admitting it.

Mental, the celebrations accompanying the leaving it very late goals. Chelsea, Portsmouth, Fulham.

Nada, at the end of the day, that’s what we’ve all got to show for this year.

Out of the group stages. I never thought it. Rafa used to breeze through it. This time he was just blown out.

Pounding, Gerrard’s heart while waiting for his verdict at Liverpool’s Crown Court.

Quirky, after getting so close, how quirky was the decline?

Rightful, the backing to Rafa by the Kop.

Shankly, 50 years since his arrival and we still think and revere him. There’s no need of a quote, it tells you what you need to know.

Thin, Benayoun’s shape. Benayoun’s legs. They can play though.

Union, The ‘Spirit of Shankly’ grew in stature. New enemies, new attacks, anew solidarity.

Venerable, the 20th service at Anfield commemorating the 96.

Wretched, the state of transfer funds Rafa has worked with in 2009.

Xabi, Departed for 30 million. Rumoured to have fallen out with Rafa. Lower taxes in his homeland might have something to do with it too. Maybe.

Yearning for number 19 continued through the year as always.

Zimmer of hope. Every time I saw Gerrard on the pitch through the year. 500 games and counting, need I say more?

2009-12-05T19:06:00.001+01:00

The first eleven matches of the Premiership had the knack to be eloquent. They were either a victory or a defeat. It was either black or white, there was no greyish areas, even though still there was a lot of room for discussion. Since then though, Liverpool recorded three draws from four matches, but still while there might be a hall rather a than room for discussion, the December biting cold wind and torrential rain like the five defeats in the first aforementioned eleven matches leave no proverbial fence suitable to sit on, as it’s too wet and having Blackburn as your opponents albeit being at Ewood Park, there’s only one side of the fence that you want to be at, come the final whistle.

The first half did too little for the travelling red army to warm up, as it was as lukewarm and tepid as a security guard’s sixteen hour shift at a forsaken warehouse. The build-up was either soft or slow, and when Liverpool did manage to get in their penalty area they found their Samba in no mood of dancing as he was solid as a rock and blocked everything that got his way. The midfield pairing of Lucas Leiva and Javier Mascherano is defensive by nature, but having Steven Gerrard in front of them, and Albert Riera and Yossi Benayoun on either wings should have more than made up for it. Sadly though, both lateral players were rather than anonymous using a nom-de-plume for the match and that was frankly not enough, with both making way for David Ngog and Nabil El Zhar respectively. The placenta treatment by the Serbian physiotherapist might have brought them back on the pitch earlier than expected but on evidence of today, this unorthodox treatment seems to have had undesirable whiffs, as outcasted these lads looked from their teammates.

Ngog has this season looked to grow in stature and if sometimes his strength and isolation have let him down his awareness of where the net is has more than made up for it. This afternoon though, with a gaping goal and a keeper in the middle of nowhere he only hit the upright. It was the only real open chance of the game for Liverpool and with the personnel available on the day, he was the one you would wish such a chance to fall on. It was a great penetrative run by Glen Johnson that paved the way for such a scenario but the skinny lad never took his chance this time.

There were half chances in between but a scoreless draw for the neutral was always a safe bet. The repeated back four and Reina once again looked as solid as we properly know them, with an offside trap working efficiently.

This was only a slight consolation, and the 500th match for Steven Gerrard ended up in the same way it started. Ewood Park was a never suitable arena to celebrate such a feat, and such a draw was too uneventful for such a milestone.

2009-11-30T21:35:00.001+01:00

It used to be said that the form book gets thrown out the window when the derby comes along. With an equal depressive form book, there was not much to throw away, and the man in black complied in his own way as he kept his book in his back pocket till the eighty-fourth minute, when he brought out the yellow card for the first and last time in the game to book Heitinga. It was edgy as always, and it did get gritty but this was one Merseyside derby where the faint-hearted could go through without any tremors.

A long overdue clean sheet was finally kept and with one point in the bag, two goals at the other end of the pitch finally gave full three points to the men in red. A clean sheet was as expected as seeing Steven Gerrard leaving the pitch with clean socks but finally Pepe Reina’s dirty gloves kept everything out, and when Jo did beat him, it was only because he couldn’t beat the offside trap, and the Spaniard couldn’t be bothered either way. Reina was his usual self-assured guy, but his save over Fellaini was far from usual and deserves a place with the superlative saves by any keeper.

Javier Mascherano as usual tried his luck when he found himself in the opposition territory with a ball in his feet and a slight view of the goal. And as usual his shot left much to be desired and was destined to the corner of the net as much as was Darren Bent’s shot in the Sunderland match. Reina was welcomed with a beach ball to remind us of the event but Yobo’s feet ended up as effective as Howard got wrong footed and could only dive helplessly. Mascherano ran the whole length of the pitch to celebrate his second goal in Liverpool colours albeit later the goal was attributed as an own goal by the former. That is only mere detail, as there can be no doubt about the Argentinean’s input in these last games and nobody will begrudge him for it even after an unusual slow start where probably his head was all over the place with Messi on his phone every single day.

With a goal to the good, like last week Liverpool did revert into a negative mode and it was their Bilyaletdinov’s wastefulness in front of goal that kept the lead intact. The midfield was at times getting overran, with Steven Gerrard in subdued form and clearly far from full match fitness. Extraordinary circumstances though call for extraordinary personalities and even though having a poor game by his own standards at the end he proved vital in the setting-up of the second goal that confirmed the bragging rights for the red part of Liverpool and the much needed three points. Before, the two men rubbed in placenta gave the red midfield a somewhat new lease of life and equally to the captain, Albert Riera was vital in the setting up of the second goal as his shot stretched Howard to the limit only for Dirk Kuyt to prod in.

The pressure has now slightly relented from the manager and his squad, but as much as enjoyable a derby victory always is, recent history teaches us that it is too early to talk of finally turning round the corner or even a kick-start to the season. But a welcome push forward it surely is.

2009-11-22T23:30:00.000+01:00

Sharing of the spoils is usually as inconclusive as sitting on the proverbial fence. Rather than proverbal, we might have seen a legendary moment yesterday as Martin Skrtel scored the first goal for Liverpool after three years donning the red shirt and I wouldn’t be too surprised if it would be the only goal he scores in his whole Liverpool career. At least though, he is not in the Rob Jones mould.

A draw might be inconclusive, a loss of two points might be fatal, when fighting tooth and nail for a title. The thought of a fight for the title at the moment though is as charming as a gal’s toothless grin. In the grander scheme of things, when you are fighting for a fourth-place berth, a draw against a resurgent Manchester City side is not such a bad result, and that’s the stark reality of it all. The expectations are to be alleviated, and in this fight we are to endure, points will be dropped by everyone as teams are fighting in such category because actually they drop a lot of points along the way.

The way the game panned out and even the conclusion of it all, was a mirrored reflection of the season so far. With Steven Gerrard back with the starting eleven, Liverpool started urgently, pressing Manchester City in their own half. After just four minutes, Daniel Agger got knocked out and left on a stretcher with his face bloodied. Ryan Babbel got the nod to start. He seemed intent to make it count this time, making himself available and showing enthusiasm. Nineteen minutes afterwards, he had to hobble away as a two-footed tackle on his ankle put paid to his endeavour. His substitute was no-one less than Yossi Benayoun who later even got on the score-sheet but having only just passed fit after some urgent therapy by a Serb physio, his entrance was on the premature side of things.

The six extra minutes in the first half were a mere formality as by then the urgence in Liverpool’s play has well dwindled and the sanctuary of the dressing room after rain sodden forty-five minutes must have been appealing for the lads.

Five minutes on the clock after the restart saw Liverpool go ahead. It was a free-kick won by David Ngog close to the left touchline. Ngog made himself once again useful even though not having a proper shot at goal in the whole ninety minutes. Gerrard’s delivery was powerful, and penetrating. Skrtel had only to stretch his leg to direct it inside.

Going ahead didn’t improve Liverpool’s confidence much, as they seemed happy enough inviting City in their own half. Pepe Reina was once again commanding, but with a reshuffled back four, getting three points by keeping a clean sheet was a big gamble. Emanuel Adebayor headed home from a corner to put pay on the gamble and soon enough Stephen Ireland put City 2-1 up.

It only took a minute for Benayoun to nip in their six yard box from behind to meet Ngog’s cross and level the score once again.

It actually sounds like a frantic game, but after the shock of seeing a lead being over-turned, Yossi’s goal only brought a sigh of relief rather than celebrations. Liverpool did manage to win a few corners at the end but a winning goal looked as far as does a winning run at the moment.

2009-11-10T22:11:00.001+01:00

With just twelve minutes on the clock, David Ngog volleyed coolly enough to give Liverpool a deserved lead. Glen Johnson was the instigator as he switched the ball from one foot through the other to get past between two defenders, and passed to the former. It was not yet time for the French lad to open the score as his short got blocked by the Birmingham keeper, Joe Hart. The rebound went to the stand-in captain Dirk Kuyt but there was another block by Hart’s legs. Albert Riera crossed the rebound and this time Ngog, Hart had no chance. In normal times, in normal circumstances, such a goal at such time, against such opposition would take the edge off the game, as it’s usually the first goal that decides everything. But these are neither normal times, nor normal circumstances. These are strange times.

There was nothing admittedly too strange though on the twenty-sixth minute when Birmingham equalized through a set-piece. The only one strange thing was Benitez finding his name on the score-sheet as he registered his first goal in the Premiership. Liverpool replied well enough, passed the ball around tidily enough, even though the eleven men in red seemed to be missing a leader on the pitch. It was sensible and fair enough to give the armband to Dirk Kuyt, but while he wears his heart on his sleeve, he never wears an armband with authority, and with his form currently slightly off the rails, he was never going to be authoritative on his team mates. Riera, back in the side for the first time in over a month due to a hamstring injury, had to call it a day slightly after the clock ticked over the forty-five minutes mark. He was frustrated and slapped the turf with his hands as he must have heard a tear. Steven Gerrard quickly and emergently came in for him, and soon enough it was Pepe Reina’s turn to hear a very strange tear as Cameron Jerome’s straight shot teared through the air.

The second forty-five minutes saw Liverpool regroup early and again put the pressure on Birmingham. The captain was understandably subdued but this time there was more urgency than the previous forty-five. Johnson had one of his better games, got past players and delivered decent crosses. Sometimes it was the keeper, other times lack of composure in front of goal, but Liverpool had to wait till the seventieth minute to level the score. Ngog slightly outside their penalty area beat his man gracefully enough but all the grace of the game ended there as the carthorse that is Lee Carlsley slid his body to stop Ngog’s ball but he missed up both. Ngog tumbled himself on the ground and the man in black pointed to the penalty spot. Gerrard accepted the gift and sent the keeper the wrong way.

The last twenty minutes saw Liverpool continuing the pressure but it was only Yossi Benayoun’s hamstring that gave up. The tempo overall was kept high, the performance would have brought three points on most other nights but while Ngog’s jump rather than dive might have rubbed his reputation, Liverpool can’t get the rub of the green.

2009-11-05T21:11:00.001+01:00

You wouldn’t have expected Ryan Babbel to finally step up to the plate and deliver. I shrieked with delight when he did. Not for him really, as I’ve lost my faith and patience but simply because this was the least the men in temporary white deserved. The more optimists would even have thought that this is even a momentous change in tide for the surely talented Dutch. But a skewed free-kick finally put paid to that and in the grander scheme of things the tide didn’t even last for seven minutes to get Liverpool safely on shore before their other travels, as an inexplicable lapse of concentration afforded their Lisandro a dry path to goal that he made the most of it and left Liverpool with a feeling of frustration and unbelievability that a victory and a sense of hope got undone with such abrupt nonchalance.

Lyon looked to will use their home advantage early on in the match, as they had most possession and looked to press the make-shift Liverpool’s defense. It didn’t last long though as in their first opportunity to attack the French rearguard, a cross by Emiliano Insua was met by Fernando Torres. He was the lad you would pray such chance would fall on but while he tested their keeper, the test didn’t look rigorous enough for the French number one. It did give hope though that really when you get behind them they will wilt. Shortly afterwards it was Andriy Voronin who got his coolness tested. The Ukrainian looks cold enough when he’s on the bench but on the pitch, one on one with the keeper, receiving a pass that had their rearguard all over the place and nowhere near him he resulted simply temperate as he shot in the keeper’s legs and missed a glorious chance to for once get on the good books of some reds.

A draw had been missing from all Liverpool’s matches till yesterday. It was conspicuous by its absence as much as guile and character had been in some of Liverpool’s matches. Destiny though contrived that the return of the latter two be upstaged by an unwanted former. In most instances a draw away from home coupled with guile and character would have been welcomed but the situation rendered the return of a draw as at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It is hard to feel positive after such bad timing and destiny is now far from Liverpool’s hands. It must be the same way Rafa Benitez felt in this summer when a lack of support from the board kept his hand tied behind his back. A winter without proper European football looks bleak and watching from a plateau that this side seems to be stuck at makes you long for the rollercoaster that once this side used to ride under the same manager.

2009-11-01T09:22:00.001+01:00

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.

2009-10-26T23:21:00.001+01:00

The players were asked to stand up and be counted. And then run through Bill Shankly’s proverbial brick wall. The manager had bricks thrown to him from all direction. Before kick-off, Pepe Reina had beach balls thrown at him. At the end, the same Reina ran the length of the pitch, unencumbered as the brick wall was properly demolished and all that was on the pitch was the debris. And by the corner flag after his sprint, he picked and hugged the scorer who comes by the name of David Ngog. No-one from the press box dared to throw another glance towards Benitez, never mind another brick. They had their time. This was now Rafa’s. And the eleven red men on the pitch. And the Kop’s time. And dare I say it mine. It is such a feeling. Pure unadulterated joy. It might go missing for a while, but when it comes back, let it engulf you.

With Steven Gerrard out injured, Jamie Carragher got the armband and led the other ten out. Carra himself has had his fair share of ridicule and write-off’s in the past. Five hundred games and then some more later he is still here. He has had a poor start. By his standards at least. Yesterday, he didn’t just lead his team-mates from the dug-out. This adversity must have hurt him more than anyone else, and like it does to Liverpool, it got the best out of him. Him and the team had a poor start. Yesterday he returned to his best and the team had the best performance of the season to date. He blocked, he tackled, he made sure Reina had as little work to do as possible. He was prepared to take a red card for his side. He’s much more cynical than you’d think. And God bless him for that.

Another ten men got infected with his enthusiasm and aptitude. They all carried each other and on the 65th minute Fernando Torres was released on his own through a sublime pass by Yossi Benayoun. He still had a lot of work to do, but he sped past Rio Ferdinand, kept his momentum and composure in check and rifled home to give Liverpool a deserved lead. He had to get injected earlier on, but now it was his turn to inject belief in his team-mates that these are here for the taking and as his manager stated before they are much better than some people think. The scorer didn’t last the whole match. A tumultuous ovation saw him off to be replaced by the to be sealer of the match.

Some eyebrows must have been raised when David Ngog got the nod ahead of Ryan Babel. Getting on for Torres after such a goal and imperious display could have been daunting and admittedly his sometimes lack of technical ability was apparent. But he makes up for it with his enthusiasm and attitude. The same enthusiasm and attitude that got Javier Mascherano the red card. He’s another who had a poor start, but yesterday he could not be faulted. He went in with two legs on Edwin Van Der Sar at the 95th minute. He went in for the ball like any Kopite would have gone. It is probably the least red card that ever bothered me. He’s not only forgiven but appreciated for the act itself.

And back to David Ngog, with their keeper rushing and trying to obstruct the net, he proved to be a cool customer and there’s only one word to describe the feeling seeing this unknown 20 year old sealing it against them. Sweet.

2009-10-24T06:52:00.001+02:00

Rafael Benitez has got a contract that he does not deserve. The amount of dough he is getting in his pocket, in his current account, in his offshore banking account reminds me of some of the bonuses city bankers got while bankrupting the system and then got bailed out by you and me. And that does not really sit comfortably with me, it actually rankles my inner self. Only sometimes, I admit though. He has asked for it, knew he had a strong hand with the fans firmly behind him and called the croupier’s bluff. The croupier probably spat with bitterness, but had to wilt to save some face. For the money he gets, he is still far from infallible. He makes mistakes. He can be stubborn. He is probably stubborn by nature. As a kid, rather than building sand castles and marvel at them getting washed away by waves, he’d get on a rock and marvel seeing the waves getting broke against the rocks and himself with his hands wide open. Still, he’s getting all that dough for the very simple reason he found himself in a place and a position where such astronomicality is the order of the day. I firmly believe Benitez is a football man, and even if his time were in that where you play the game or manage your team in front of thousands and then get the bus home with the same spectators, he would still be doing this 24/7.

Last season, but still in the 2009 year we had to endure the chants of ‘Rafa’s cracking up’. The chants did the rounds around every English stadium as much as the ‘Sit Down Pinocchio’ used to do. Admittedly Rafa did not crack up Ferguson’s hold on the title, but he far from cracked, as he managed Liverpool excruciatingly close to the finishing line. The summer was ordinary, with the books being simply balanced rather than fed, albeit with huge transactions. The difference between first and second might be very thin, but the effort to skip from second to first is extraordinary. After buying time for himself with his European Cup victory in his first season (or is that the deed itself?) followed by an F.A. Cup, while achieving a high level consistency in European football through out every season, he signaled that his whole squad and set-up can properly challenge to the title.

Hopes were raised by the faithful, but at the time it seems that he’s only built beautiful sand castles and the waves are simply carrying them away as if there was nothing. He needed some muscle into his castles but never got it. A foreign manager provokes the English media in two ways. Broadsheet papers for an instance, love interviewing him as he makes their paper look more intellectual and in a way exotic, especially in his early days. The tabloids would love to see him fail as you know fish and chips is better than paella. After building him up, the broadsheets would love to break him up as someone with a different philosophy from yours can be intimidating and there’s few better sights than seeing a cleverer guy falling on his arse. And when this guy happens to manage Liverpool the view is coupled with a few strippers on the side. When, your influence infiltrates into the terraces then you’d be even excused to carry a mirror so it can reflect your glee.

Four consecutive defeats is definitely crisis material. Four defeats in the league when it’s still October is lower middle table material. The cut-throat edges for the coveted title are unmerciful, and they have already left severe verging on the fatal bruises. What is though unfathomable for me, is how a manager that was lauded as recently as this summer could be getting not just flak, but vitriol from all four corners to even infiltrate in a way the Kop.

Given all the circumstances, tomorrow’s match against Manchester United exacerbate all its proportions, that is playing right into the hands of Sky and its partners in crime. The frenzy created is beyond their wildest dreams. Deep down I feel that this game is simply one that Liverpool must get something out of. Still and it is a big still, one match wouldn’t change my thoughts and opinion about one person.

Liverpool F.C. is a vehicle to escape the grit of real life. Sometimes I feel like a sucker for eleven millionaires trotting around. I hardly have idols anymore. My big reverie is for the Liverbird. I though admit huge respect for the man at the helm. Sacking him is unthinkable. Firstly, it’s not the Liverpool way of doing things. Sadly though, that philosophy has been long deterring and while it should be the main reason the cold facts suggest that Mr Gillett is behind Rafa because he can’t afford sacking him.

Are Liverpool then stuck with Rafa? For a change the lack of funds are working in Liverpool’s favour.

2009-10-20T23:39:00.000+02:00

Jamie Carragher’s face at the end said it all. A red face, reminding us of a tireless performance but really, really was Carra’s face red through his effort or through his anger and disappointment? He must have been seething with himself and the destiny of the match. Where do you point your finger this time? It wasn’t the best performance, but I don’t think you could really put a finger on the attitude and commitment of the lads as was the case on Saturday.

Martin Kelly was given his European debut due to a Glen Johnson injury. Lyon aren’t a mythical European side, but the circumstances made this tie intriguing and more than that crucial. Kelly defied all this with a flawless performance that though had been cut short due to an injury. He showed tidy defensive skills, and as is today required from a right or left back, comfort on the ball and impressive distribution, highlighting all this shortly before half-time when an awesome cross of his was met by Aurelio’s head that prompted their keeper, Lloris to a point blank save.

The rather quiet Anfield crowd summed up the anxiousness that is at the moment surrounding this club. The fact that Steven Gerrard was substituted just after 20 minutes as a precaution tells you something how much a gamble was to start his captain, how desperate the manager was to tonic his starting eleven, and in hindsight how much this fourth consecutive defeat will wrinkle his guts.

And it was looking smooth enough to not even get close to that. Yossi Benayoun opened the score. A good mate of mine calls him a ‘beautiful player’. Most people would call this a well taken goal. Like my mate I would call it ‘beautiful’, as there is always something graceful in every move of this player. And considering everything this was a rose sprouting from a piece of concrete. After three games without a goal, you’ll even appreciate any species of weed. Liverpool came close to add to this but the half-time whistle put paid to it.

The second forty-five minutes saw Liverpool’s tempo admittedly rather flattening as a return to winning ways was to be preserved in all manners. Pepe Reina looked self assured as any other day and pulled two great point blank saves in succession from the same action. It didn’t matter much though as the order of the night and the current plight or the reds dictated for the rebound to be met by Gonalons head – in for Cris due to a self-inflicted head injury. A draw looked a lukewarm reaction after three defeats and thus in Liverpool’s fashion of extremes, on the ninetieth minute Delgado poked in to inflict a proper slash rather than just a wound.

It all takes me back to the 2002-03 season when following a sublime season that still wasn’t enough Liverpool went into a freefall and the rest is history. In Gerard Houllier’s words of that season, Sunday provides an opportunity to turn a corner, but really at the moment all I can see ahead is a high brick wall, that requires men of steel to run through it.

2009-10-17T21:20:00.001+02:00

You might excuse the exuberance and the naivety of a teenage Liverpool kid throwing a big balloon in his own team’s penalty area but you can’t excuse the disjointed ninety minute performance by the Liverpool lads today at the Stadium of Light. The manager might have had a whole series of grievances under his sleeve before a ball has been even kicked but his eleven today have left him down and rendered all the grievances as simply excuses. An international week is always welcomed by Benitez as much as the sight of Hicks and Gillett in his office unannounced. Usually, it seems to happen in the middle of a run of positive results that simply kills the momentum. This time it was not the case as so far this season Liverpool has never garnered any kind of momentum. The injuries of both Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres were more like an unwarranted dress down by the same Yanks. But things like that happen, and at times as recent as last year, such circumstances would lead the whole setup of Liverpool Football Club to huddle together, and stand up to be counted in the face of such adversity.

Just before kick-off, the news of a Chelsea defeat to Aston Villa should have made such a huddle the more enticing, as through all this rain and adversity there was a rainbow on the horizon. But it seems a huddle is only effective when there is a togetherness. It is true that it was a freak goal. It is as true that this happened as early as the fourth minute and there was ample time for a proper response. But Liverpool were at times outrun, and at other times outfought. The other excuse might be that the combo of shirt and shorts was unmatching and an eyesore. Then again, not many of the eleven were fit to wear the whole combo of red shirt and red shorts as once in the sixties Bill Shankly has devised.

Any squad, any team would miss his two main stars. But let us not forget that there is a mass gulf between a supposed top four side like Liverpool and the rest. Sunderland this season has punched above Steve Bruce’s weight, and that is some achievement. At home, they are a decent side, bordering on the dangerous. Give them space and time and they can hurt. Today, Liverpool afforded them both. How they themselves cope under pressure, I am unable to tell, as Liverpool never pressurized them, which is the most disappointing or even depressing aspect of the day. And Liverpool had enough talent and millions of pounds on the field to at least do that to Sunderland.

Just before the ninetieth minute, the fourth official announced seven minutes of extra-time. He just added salt to the wound. For one particular moment, David N’Gog went agonizingly close but that was that. While there were no balloons to help Liverpool score, there wasn’t much intent and urgency making up for the lack of a balloon.

Liverpool are left with a lump of four defeats out of nine matches though. It is still October and the mere talk of a title challenge is as out of context as a red balloon in a funeral. And another balloon might be needed, not to travel the world in eighty days but to cling to a Champions League berth.

2009-10-05T12:10:00.000+02:00

I feel decisively undecided. Yesterday was a big advert for the word ‘quandary’. Liverpool travelled to Stamford Bridge and they left us with hopes and doubts. You might argue that’s not too different from the pre kick off feeling. I had hopes that the performance, the result and the feeling of the final whistle of last year could be repeated. Football nowadays is all about your last game so that should have prevailed easily. But us with a longer memory, associate Stamford Bridge with one-sided four goals score-lines and green grass that seem to hold a personal grudge against Liverpool studs. I remember one particular game when there was a one sided four goal score-line and the Chelsea keeper was awarded the man of the match. A bit like an exotic butterfly on the lid of a filthy bin.

The first forty-five minutes were an exhibition of pragmatism, professionalism and what Benitez would probably call ‘disciplined’. Liverpool had the lion share of possession, exactly 55% of it, the midfield pairing of Javier Mascherano and Lucas Leiva looked like brothers from the same favela rather than a Brazilian and Argentinean while going forward a ray hope was shining from time to time even though admittedly there were never a need of sunglasses. At the end, the quickly taken free-kick by Albert Riera stretched and frightened the deputising Hilario and while not being enough to open the score or forgetting us the abject performance by the executor himself was enough to give us an upbeat fifteen minutes break.

The first fifteen minutes of the second half continued in the vein of the first forty-five hard working minutes and the fifteen minutes break. Fields of Anfield Road was echoing around Stamford Bridge. Glenn Johnson was having his most solid game in a Liverpool shirt. The ball was in Mascherano’s feet and he was looking upfront. From his side though he was dispossessed and Chelsea were at the other end celebrating in no time. You would assume it was a quick counter-attack that had Liverpool short in numbers. It was quick but Liverpool had enough numbers behind the ball and particularly in the penalty area. The redmen were never outnumbered or outfought but for that specific moment were outwitted.

Chelsea looked to grow in stature after the goal and were knocking the ball around confidently, winning time and depriving Liverpool of any reaction. Then Yossi Benayoun got in and with Chelsea inviting Liverpool cautiously, the Israeli was finding ways about the Chelsea wall. With Fernando Torres on the pitch, there is always hope, and the Spaniard had an inviting bouncing ball at one time. His left leg accepted the invitation but never made it to the party as he shot disappointingly wide.

Time continued to tick on, and at the end Didier Drogba again provided the assist to give his side a final 2-0 score-line and three points. Benayoun quickly wrong footed a forest of legs but with the goal at his mercy he summed up the day as he squeezed wide.

A third defeat invites a plethora of questions. The ambivalent result and performance reply with a confusion of grey answers in true Liverpool fashion. I am not giving up hope but I am less confident than I was before the match. I am not changing my summer expectations but I am going back to basics and adjusting my horizon from May to Christmas for the time being.

2009-09-27T19:09:00.002+02:00

I thought it was the white shirt that made Nando look so terrific the other week against West Ham. It seems I was a bit naïve. Or is it forgetfulness? As yesterday, in the tried, trusted and Liverpool’s red Nando looked equally mesmerizing. And it was a reminder that at Anfield, Torres has notched 33 goals in 34 games. Beat that. As much as the grass might look greener at the other end, Fernando surely knows where his home is. And it seems that he can’t get enough of this cathedral of football. For all their lies and blasphemies, something good is coming out of the Hicks and Gillett tenure. We’ve still got years to play at Anfield and Torres is definitely rubbing his hands with his childish grin.

And it’s not just his grin which looks childish. Yesterday he reminded me of an over-age kid running in the park rounding kids and scoring, care-free, oblivious to all the world’s ills. You might say he was devastating. I think it’s too harsh a word for such a sublime and graceful performance. He was a reminder of Da Vinci’s quote: ‘Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication’. He made football look so easy. I found myself thinking yes I could do that, but I still can’t find any explanation that actually no I can’t do that. The simple answer for such an absurd question is that there is no explanation to naturalness. That is what Torres is. A natural footballer. A natural striker. A natural. Benitez has undoubtedly raised his game. Anfield unmistakably provides the ideal stage. Steven Gerrard unquestionably feeds him the most exquisitely weighted passes into his feet or simply into his space. But really they are simply the bees carrying the pollen on a beautiful wild flower.

Benitez pragmatic as ever subbed Torres after just 67 minutes. That’s all he needed for a hat-trick. With a trip to Florence in three days looming, and a three goal advantage it was understandable. Or maybe for all his ruthlessness, Benitez must have felt for his fellow professional Phil Brown and spared him.

Torres apart, the first forty-five minutes were a rather even contest. Hull had a decent go at Liverpool and with just one goal separating them I was thinking Liverpool will have to work hard for their money. Soon enough though Torres put paid for that, and then Gerrard’s cross-shot reminded us that the wind is surely on Liverpool’s side.

The men in red, particularly the offensive ones are surely making the most of the familiarity of Anfield’s sleek green grass. There was a lot of talk about the defense being too prone particularly in set-pieces. But at the other end of the pitch the men in red are surely producing and entertaining. For a side with a supposedly defensive and too pragmatic manager, the hacks are surely having their work cut out. In four matches, Liverpool have now scored 15. Since Aston Villa called at Anfield back in March, the reds have scored 34 in 9. The continuity can be touched and felt, and the scoreless draws that hurt Liverpool so much feel very distant.

Yesterday’s goal by Geovanni was a simple blotch on an otherwise free-flowing performance. The defense does not worry me that much. There have been talks in the past about a supposed crisis in the Liverpool back four, but time and again the back four and Reina have stood up to be counted. The goals against figure has always proved to be on the very mean side by the end of the season. It is as fickle to worry about the defense as much as it was to worry about a rather rusty Torres at the start of the season.

2009-09-20T18:44:00.001+02:00

Back in 1964, Bill Shankly opted for an all-red strip for his men. He thought it made them look bigger. And since then like most of Shankly’s thinking and mantras it still stands. Upton Park and the maroon shirt of West Ham forces Liverpool into the second strip. Second strips are just a money making exercise in today’s world of football and the colour and design changes from year to year. It has changed from gold to awful green to inky black to sitting-on-the-wall grey and to the occasional yet the traditional away white. And Senor Torres along with his team-mates had to wear his white socks, black shorts and a white shirt. And there’s something about white. White might remind Torres of his hated rivals Real Madrid, but you’ve got to admit there’s something about him in white. Before turning too gayish, he looked leaner, slickier and well polished. You’d think give him the ball on the green and he’ll swagger past them. And that was before kick-off.

Twenty minutes into the game, he confirmed all this and more. Given the ball while still outside the box and in a rather lateral position, he reminded me of his first goal at Anfield against Chelsea. This time it was probably better as he waltzed between more than one Ben Haim, but a couple of them and with the goal still on his side rather than in front he still prodded the ball through. 1-0 for Liverpool. Not too long ago that would have been the three points all but wrapped.

These days, the forwards or better the forward will still have a lot to do as the wrapping is not usually done till the credit card has been swiped and made sure there are available funds. The back four particularly the central ones looked vulnerable from the very first minute. Carragher has been the heart and soul of Liverpool for years. But the usual and dependent beat is sometimes missing the rhythm. With barely a minute on the clock his hesitancy on the ball allowed Hines the goal at his mercy. The pole let Carra off but the man in black was not as provident on the half-hour mark as his tug on the same lad propelled him to point to the penalty-spot from where the Italian Diamanti obliged.

The end to end stuff carried on after that as a Benayoun corner was headed by the captain in the path of Kuyt who with his striking instincts once again intact faintly poked in. Again that was not even enough for a half-time break with a leg in front as a corner at the other end was headed in by Cole.

The second forty-five minutes lacked the vibrancy of the first. Uncharacteristically while away from Anfield, Benitez took Kuyt off and asked Babel to turn the latter’s trade into craftiness. This time, he did not disappoint and he made his presence felt, while finally making it all happening as a delightful cross on Torres head was deposited into the net.

This time the deposit made it into the iron safe and the three points were never questioned.

2009-09-17T21:43:00.001+02:00

The hundredth victory in the European Cup, now ramatazzed as the Champions League has been recorded yesterday at Anfield. It was devoid of the usual drama that is associated with European nights at this old sanctuary of football through terraced streets. There was only one goal recorded, clusters of empty seats were evident, and the opponents on the occasion were known and fearful as much as a random puppy at a vet’s waiting room.

Anfield though recognises that a match of football can only take place when there are Liverpool and an opponent. And while there was no fear, respect was duly granted to the Hungarians Debreceni.

For the first time since UEFA or even better the very rich clubs of Europe decided to introduce group stages in the early rounds of the Champions League, a Hungarian side made it to this stage. Champions of the likes of Hungary, Yugoslavia and the Czech Republic made way to runners-up, third placed and fourth-placed sides from bigger and economically stronger leagues in Europe. UEFA trumpets loudly the whole anthem of ‘Fair Play’ but it lacks the knowledge of one single note of ‘Fair Trade’. Michel Platini seems to be changing the tunes and his legislation so far is giving champions of their own countries a better chance to experience the top echelons of European football and dip their fingers in the honey pot something like the Champions League can offer. It is also a stark reminder that football is what it is thanks to its simplicity and the global appeal that it holds through the four corners of the world rather than being a sport practised by a very select number of countries that probably have their colonizers as their common ground. And the Champions League should be a platform for a more extensive geographical and economic standings. Football is inclusive not exclusive.

And Debreceni offered a very good opposition. They defended as you would expect but they never parked the proverbial bus in front of the goal. I was half expecting a 4-0 drubbing like Burnley got, but Debreceni proved to be sterner while at the same time more creative. Dirk Kuyt proved that for all the time he spent working his legs off on the right flank, his striking instincts have not deserted him as for the second time in a couple of days he followed a team-mate’s shot, this time Torres and finished well. More than a case of finishing it was more a case of being at the right place at the right time like all good strikers do.

All the great European times started against FK Rejkjavik. Yesterday was a reminder of all that. Away from big names and the big money lie romanticism. It is something the likes of Hicks and Gillett will never fathom.

2009-09-13T10:26:00.000+02:00

Four goals at home and a clean sheet. It feels like what the doctor has ordered, but upfront Liverpool were more operating with the precision of a surgeon as for the second time in three matches they managed to score four. Liverpool did have the precision of a surgeon which showed no mercy to the hopefuls and early risers Burnley, but as usual with Liverpool that was just one part of the story. Coupled with the precision, there was a player in the thick of it that graced the green, green grass of Anfield, and it was his sweet movements of his feet that opened it all for the three points and the three more goals that were to follow. It is easy to wax lyrical about a hat-trick scorer, but there’s something about Yossi Benayoun that’s hard not to warm to. And rather of hospitals, he reminds me of a spa resort where a few touches by the masseur can relax your whole body and relieve the strain and stress.

With Javier Mascherano omitted from the squad while he’s still in the South of America, the boss had to subtly reshuffle the offensive formation. Steven Gerrard was dropped a bit behind, and Benayoun, rather than out wide found himself in the hole just off Torres’ shoulders. And he didn’t let such a rare chance to play there go by, and simply linked perfectly well with any red shirt in his vicinity. You could tell there was a certain bout of confidence running through the side as back heels were the order of the day. Albert Riera on the left side of the pitch helped the cause in his own way and a kind of chemistry between him and the man of the match was conspicuous, especially considering this was a rare occasion of them two starting together.

Martin Skrtel had a couple of lapses earlier on but Jamie Carragher made sure to cover up for him, and while admittedly he was rarely tested, yesterday the latter had his finest performance this season, looked more confident without trying to outdo himself and hopefully he has buried some of his ghosts that his 31 year mark seemed to have brought on his soul. Corners were easily dealt with the second clean-sheet of the season was claimed as if a birth-right.

The international break for once worked in Liverpool’s favour, and with the momentum on Liverpool’s side it is nice to know that another break won’t be due for another few weeks. The Hungarians Debreceni are next in the Champions League. It is nice and romantic to see hardly known names coming back to Anfield in a European competition. While all respect should be shown to these Magyars, it’s a glorious opportunity for the offensive formation to glue up more and prepare themselves further to the forthcoming trip at Upton Park.

2009-08-30T09:07:00.000+02:00

Lads still rusty. Lads still off-form. Unsharp. Giving the ball away as if Platini has decided he wants as many balls as referees. Rather slowish. Off the pace actually. Pressure already telling. Shipping in goals. Manager fed-up of the whole system.

It was all under these circumstances that Liverpool travelled to the ridiculously named Reebok stadium. Adding to that the undisputed fact that they’ve only got three points to their name in as many games. It wasn’t the ideal preparation, and I guess confidence wasn’t remotely anywhere in the Northern region. The expectation didn’t silhouette any of the confidence factor. The expectation was very high, as Liverpool were to be facing a side that was having it even worse than them. Sometimes the fixture list can be kind like that.

The circumstances though seemed to make up for the rare kindness, as Liverpool found themselves one goal down once again. Admittedly it was all Liverpool’s making as very poor defending gave their captain Davies the easiest of tasks to stab into the net. The ball was travelling in Liverpool’s six yard box and there was a surplus of white shirts over red ones. Carragher went berserk and I just let my head drop down unsure what to expect.

I shouldn’t have done. Few minutes later Liverpool replied through the newly acquired Johnson in what could be said to be a typical Liverpool goal. Crafty, yet so simple in its execution, it was delightful to watch. As Bolton’s rearguard defended easily the umpteenth corner the ball bobbled away in Johnson’s direction. With the ball in his feet he moved horizontally to his left as his opposing number a good metre away was wrong footed by it all. With Bolton’s area still rather congested he took his time to choose his shot’s best route through all the gaps.

Shortly after the restart, Liverpool had to restart everything once again as they let the opposing Cahill give Bolton the lead. The proceedings gave Liverpool a breather as Lucas for once reminded us of Alonso as his run committed Davis to tackle from behind, earning him a second yellow card.

Torres was making his presence felt loitering around even though sometimes with a touch that was letting him down. But he couldn’t let Kuyt’s sublime chest pass down. Torres was enabled an open view of the goal that with a ball with his feet this time he made up the most of it with the aplomb we expect from him.

And then Gerrard had another rush of blood through his head. This time in an opposing penalty area and with a ball in his feet. And the result was a net showing its worth as it absorbed the ball. For the first time Liverpool went ahead. And there was no way they were going to let that slip. The only failure was not adding to the score-line as excessive altruism seemed to have got into the lads feet and they thought they can walk the ball over the line which at one time it’s debatable whether they actually did.

The top two looked at times far from their best. They looked like the opening of this blog. But then again, they reminded us that form is only temporary while class is permanent. For a change an international break is welcomed in this neck of the woods as the lads can take their time to compose themselves better. And all this with a win in their feet.

2009-08-27T22:39:00.000+02:00

Football and fandom aren’t the most rational of things. Liverpool F.C. takes the antithesis of rationalism to the extremes. Nothing is remotely straight forward with this club, nor is with the team. It’s a juxtaposition of attractions and opposites.

After the impeccable 2008/09 season, particularly its finish, you would think a bright start this season would surely follow as surely day follows night. Another English rather than Indian summer put paid to that. The sun didn’t shine much and we were finding ourselves more often with long faces waving the last goodbyes at the departures rather than beaming with a bouquet in our hands at the arrivals. Pre-season arrived and there weren’t much to get too excited about, but then what would you expect from a squad who was jet-lagging itself around Asia to finance someone’s debt.

Spurs was a disappointment but it was all soon forgotten when Liverpool quite simple rolled over last season’s pain in the arse and unscratchable hitch Stoke City. And on Monday night Aston Villa visited. Liverpool started as well as they did the Wednesday before against the aforementioned. They didn’t unlock the score soon enough due to lack of luck and admittedly lack of clinicality. In a particular moment the Villa penalty area looked more like an over-sized flip-ball with their defenders the paddles rather than a rectangular patch of green. Anyway, that was that and slightly after the half-hour mark Liverpool conceded a free-kick in a hardly danger zone but a hapless defending header was deposited into Liverpool’s net. Just before half-time, a corner was conceded. Reina looked animated more than usual and got booked. With his name on the book and his wits probably all over the place he could only pick the ball from the net for the second time. Being a Monday night, I was watching alone at home and couldn’t believe what was going on before my eyes. And this time I couldn’t even blame the ale.

Liverpool did answer back as soon as the man in black signaled the start of the second forty-five minutes. They did get close and tested the ex-Friedel more than a few times. Friedel had a good game but the cynic in me suggests he was just very efficient. He didn’t pull out of the world saves. Torres finally slotted in and another comeback looked likely as much as a happy ending in a Hollywood movie. I don’t like Coldplay too much and I didn’t like even more the captain reminding me of their album ‘A Rush of Blood to the Head’. Gerrard’s a legend make no mistake about it, but that kind of tackle in his penalty area was more akin of him in his teenage years rather than now, with countless games under his belt and a football brain fitting a statesman of Liverpool F.C. That was that. Liverpool went 3-1 down.

The coldest fact of it all, the result put aside for a single minute, was that while time wound on and Rafa started to reshuffle the side and his tactics, he brought fresh legs but no added impetus. The two substitutions weakened the side. Voronin looked out of it and jumped out of tackles. A player of his calibre should be thanking his lucky stars he found himself at a club like Liverpool, and make up for his lack of talent with at least effort. Babel once again disappointed and blew another chance to impress the gaffer. Considering Rafa’s limited budget over the years, and him costing around £10m to bring over, he makes splashing out dosh during a recession reasonable.

Three games, one win, two defeats. I was much more optimistic before the season started rather than now. At times am finding myself more inclined to look over my shoulders rather than ahead. The last time Liverpool ended in the second place, they followed with a horrendous season that was the beginning of the end of Houllier’s reign. I believe this squad with all its limitations in its numbers is made of sterner stuff than that one. And while being sterner it is more flexible and creative too. Goals haven’t really been the issue. Six goals in three games could have returned sixteen to eighteen points in five games in past seasons. Till the next match on Saturday I’ll bide my time in silence. But I remind myself that this is Liverpool F.C. and with that rationality never mix.

2009-08-20T21:47:00.001+02:00

On Monday morning after it all, it felt that a long season is ahead of us. By the final whistle last night the only thing notably long were David Johnson’s pearly black legs. They were everywhere, and registered the right touchline their own property. They had hard work, aplomb, graft and grace written all over them. I classed Spurs at home on the opening day as a decent side that can raise themselves to the occasion. Stoke would be a grafty side that brings memories of suffocation and frustration. And coming on the back of a defeat, a lukewarm performance and rumours abounding on the gaffer’s future, this fixture had that arid air reminding you of a hospital warm around it. But the aura of Anfield, and the reminding of the telepathy that still exists and will always does between Gerrard and Torres quickly dispelled it all.

From then on, Liverpool simply rampaged all over the place. And apart from the three points it was another reminder that Benitez has the dressing room under his total control while the respect between the coaching and the playing staff is mutual. Rafa asked for a performance and he duly got it. The knee-jerk reactions by some of the press, that Rafa’s losing it were simply extinguished.

This is a side without much airs around it. This is a squad which is on the thin side. But this is a side that makes you warm to. It’s got hard work written all over it. Johnson yesterday complemented all the hard work with panache to its whole build-up. Benitez is building something that is mirroring himself on the pitch.

Benitez is stubborn, (anyone else would have trudged off after all the flak he has been taking from the speculators that go with the initials of TH and GG). His side is equally hard headed. They complement the stubbornness with trust worthiness of making up for a dismal performance when the first chance arises. Alongside that, Rafa’s superior tactical awareness is coupled by some of his players skill and inventiveness on the pitch.

Gerrard’s superlative turn that led to the third goal was another reminder that alongside the hard guts, there is a heart that pumps blood and creates an excitable persona. Alongside Johnson’s legs, at the moment long is the wait for the next match.

2009-08-17T19:35:00.001+02:00

It’s been a good three months since the last match. Three months, a quarter of a year. But really and honestly it felt more like a week. I admit. In three months I haven’t missed the match. There were times where I would feel withdrawal symptoms. This summer, I guess I was enjoying being clean from it all. The sun, the sand, the sea made up all for it and I think I felt like I can get used to it. And I didn’t even try or worked hard for it. It just happened. The only time I could get worked up in a whole three months was when I saw a short gimp with a certain scarf above his head. I’ve followed the Xabi Alonso saga with the interest of a parent who went to watch a movie that his kid has chosen. He watched it all because he felt obliged to. The story was never stimulating and the ending was predictable from the very first verse of the whole script.

But then again for all the words I am spouting, yesterday afternoon I made my way to the usual place to watch it all unfold. The usual place, the usual spec, the usual faces, the usual beverages were ordered. And the usual text message of ‘Come on you mighty reds’ sent from over here to a good old mate miles and miles away. I might have not missed it much, there was not much to miss, and for a change I stayed away from the money spinning friendlies but cometh the hour, I had a couple of butterflies migrating into my stomach just the same. And I was secretly lapping it all up.

Cometh the hour, cometh kick-off, and there’s no follow up of last year’s superlative ending. The men in red were all over the place, and looked focused and up to it as I have been for the past couple of months.

Tottenham Hotspur is a tricky fixture. Well, that’s one good cliché that football jargon seem to be full of. Tottenham Hotspur is a decent side that on the opening day of the season could rise on the occasion. And yesterday they did. It’s only part of the game. Football is made possible with two sides into it. That’s why the Kop applauds the opposition. On an opening day, with all the expectations probably fully justified after such a good campaign last year, Liverpool simply failed to deliver. The second forty-five minutes looked decent only because the first forty-five were atrocious. Steven Gerrard who apparently gave an interview to the disgusting Sunday rag looked below his usual self. Torres was starved of service and when he did get the ball, he gave it away as if a new rule of having more than one ball has been lately legislated. Babel had his chance. He had a bull before him with his horns showing and instead he treated it like you would a tame bear. Reina rose up to the occasion. And he had to, as the faces would have been red not simply due to the warm sun and the exertions on the green turf.

The only new addition on show yesterday gave a good account of himself, and duly won a penalty. He’s shown that bit of character and determination that was sorely missing and was awarded for it. The opposition was there for the taking. Benitez might be right to complain about the referee refusing to give a penalty. But I felt it was too much like missing the wood for the trees. The whole display and effort shown was as abject as the summer transfer dealings.

This might sound as too critical, and a bit of a knee-jerk reaction. I am liable to wear the most red-tinted glasses on offer, but facts are facts. Liverpool were as close to the holy grail last year as they could possibly get. Benitez’s work was finally presented for all to see. All he needed now was a bigger platform so that those on the back could finally see and appreciate. He didn’t get that. He’s probably spent more time wheeling and dealing the Alonso deal than on the pitch with his lads and adding a couple of fine-tunes that could give us and his team the belief that this year could be finally ours.

There’s still time. I might not be holding my breath for things to improve drastically as after all the match and Liverpool F.C. is an alienation from the grit. Meeting new people, and sharing a passion that is under threat from a couple of Yank entrepreneurs. But I am going to enjoy myself at the usual place, at the usual spec with usual faces and some new ones coming from afar while close to where the action usually is like yesterday. And no Yank will ever take that away from me.

2009-07-03T23:39:00.001+02:00

Michael Owen is roughly my age, just a couple of months older than me. I can’t say I grew up with him but I was still getting a couple of buses for college when the boy was getting into the scene. He adorned regularly the front page of my then weekly fix, the Match magazine, as in his first full season he scored 18 in the Premiership alone.
Back then, an avid Liverpool fan but still very far from understanding the city of Liverpool as I’ve never set foot into it, and probably too naïve to doubt anyone wearing the red shirt, Michael Owen was a sort of a hero. As much as Kurt Cobain used to be a personal hero. Very intransigent characters I know, but that’s the way it was. He had this awesome pace that sometimes in my head coupled perfectly with the rhythm of Kurt Cobain’s frenetic riffs in Lithium. And his coolness in front of the last defender and finishing sent a shiver down my spine as much as Cobain’s lyrics.
I felt like discovering a gem myself. And then came the World Cup, and I would be like a nervous parent watching him from home. And then that goal. And then falling on his own on the turf at Elland Road as a horrible season was drawing curtains. Memoirs of a teenager.

His goals never dried up. And then came the treble season. He missed out in Cardiff in February as Heskey was preferred while Fowler scored a screamer in a game that went to penalties against a lower league Birmingham. But Cardiff in May was different. A proper cup, the oldest in history, and the 21 year old far from disappoints. A couple of days later and he does his part again to put Liverpool again into the map of Europe.

And he continued doing his business. But doubts remain. Not medical or better physiological. This time a bit more psychological. Or even a question of class war. Fowler is admittedly living on his past deeds. Still he is the one really adored by the Kop. The local scally that has done good. The lad who supported the striking local dockers. Owen is more of a national verging on continental entity. And Liverpool is simply Scouse rather than English. It might sound petty but it isn’t. Fowler is bred in the streets of Toxteth, Owen on the plush grass of Lilleshall. And as the promise of Houllier’s early years start fading, and Champions League football is far from guaranteed at Anfield, talks of moving start gathering pace as much as he is losing his. His body language says it all in 2004. He still manages 16 in the Premiership, but he misses more than a couple of penalties, and sometimes he looks he simply wants to warm up for Portugal in summer. He feels the arena that is Anfield does not suit him anymore. He is not a romanticist. He feels better than his team mates and he just wants medals. Benitez arrives but the boy travels the opposite direction of the Spaniard, as with just a season left on his contract, Liverpool cut their losses.

Benitez gets the biggest medal European football can offer, Owen gets a regular seat at the Bernebau. He scores when put on but he seems to lack the bottle to fight for a regular place at one of the biggest clubs in Europe and finds himself at Newcastle. The boy who once said he will consider his future if his team mates can’t guarantee him Champions League football signs for a club that is far from thinking about UEFA Cup football.

He spends the four year contract at Tyneside, gets goals when he does actually play, and his last season ends with the ignominy of relegation. I wonder how much it hurts him though. He is sure he will not play in the Championship next season, and it’s just a bad year for him.

The Kop respected Owen but never loved him. Reciprocally Owen saw Anfield as the arena where he can ply his trade. You can take the boy out of Liverpool but you can’t take Liverpool out of the boy. It probably makes sense to the likes of Sami Hyypia. Michael Owen scored against Manchester United while in a Liverpool shirt. It is a statistic. Now he just signed for them.

Does it hurt me? Well, it does something as otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this. Has it shocked me? No. It just irritates me like a rash that a piece of recent history has been tainted and shown for what it really is. The bitter Scot might be grinning at this very moment thinking he’s wound us up properly. In his own words the boy has got a skin thicker than 99.9% of the population. I believe you as the Anfield aura never got to your bones. And yeah you never murdered anyone. A mercenary like you would just get someone else to do that for you.

2009-04-05T13:09:00.001+02:00

He has been out for a few weeks with that baneful injury known as the hamstring. He missed the best team performances of the season due to it. In comes the international week. He goes publicly he wants to play even though he is far from total fitness. Imagine if the lad in question happened to be Steven Gerrard. Personally, I’d have shaken me head more than a couple of times and probably something would have dribbled off my mouth. The international showcase over the local bread and butter. Snubbing the tried and tested hand that feeds you regularly for a shiny silver plate brought to you via a manicured and shiny hand of a groomed waiter. Yossi Benayoun’s case was rather different though. He is not as high profile and the average man in the street that holds no Liverpool connections will probably struggle to spot him if he were to pass him by. The Israeli captain risked an injury aggravation to the Israel cause, defying Rafael Benitez in the process. At a time when his country has been in the spotlight that served mostly to cast a dark shadow, he stood up to be counted. This case has probably been more as one of knowing where your roots really lay rather than jumping on some gravy train. Presumably on Thursday he got back to Melwood. I assume Rafa didn’t go overboard to order flowers to greet him back. Yesterday he found him a place on the bench. And for most of the second half he warmed out on the very fringes of the pitch, outside from where the action is. Fourteen minutes from time, he went in for the workhorse that is Dirk Kuyt, with Liverpool pretty much able to unlock the Fulham defense but yet to pull the door in to declare their intentions and ramshackle the house called the Premiership.

In his first fourteen minutes, he helped the cause and got agonizingly close. That was nothing new though. Without him, Liverpool managed to crook the timber of the goalpost four consecutive times. Getting close was never the issue yesterday. With two minutes over the 90th though, he finally did what was missing. A ball fell into his feet, Konchesky tried to close him down but he was quicker and had the audacity to put the ball beyond Shwarzer and into the net. His quick feet and eye for goal did it for Liverpool.

Ensuing was total bedlam, all signed by him. A midfielder, a winger, call him whatever you’d like, has been put on when a deadlock was very much on the cards. With the lack of availability of striking personnel, Benayoun had to do. But the lad is not doing what he is asked of. He is going beyond the call of duty. He slides his lanky figure and the ball through defenders selling dummies. Personally he sold me the belief Liverpool’s name is on it. The fact he’s not high-profile and not seen marketable by most makes it feel even sweeter and genuine.

2009-03-23T21:55:00.001+01:00

When I thought I was out they pulled me back in.

There you go, I thought I can’t be bothered with this anymore, or at the very least, I’ve had enough for this season. I just wanted a break from it all, as once the flame ebbs away there is only darkness to ponder. I wanted a break from it all. I embraced the darkness of the situation. There was no fear of the dark, and there were no withdrawal symptoms that the close season can bring about. Just a carefree attitude, and a certain lightness that you’d feel after you’ve unshackled yourself. I actually surprised myself. I’ve beat an addiction without thinking much about it, without trying to fight it and without shedding sweat. It just happened, or maybe it had been coming long time and it just passed me over. Something changed, and I just went with the flow of emotions that a change brings. As in my latest piece, the backroom politics, or more accurately backstabbing, hypocrisy and greed did it to me. And the match just coupled all this, like a honeymoon couple. What I looked for a whole week could be pathetic and downright depressive. The performance at the Riverside put it all into perspective and the writing was on the wall for me. And it just didn’t bother me. I went for neither a roller nor the old paintbrush to scrub it off.

And then Real Madrid called at Anfield. Watched only the last forty-five minutes. Everybody knows the score. Then, that match at Old Trafford. I decided to watch from home. It felt like something’s on the box and I might as well watch. And then that performance. And the result. And that little rush of blood through my head, that brought back some good old memories. It was sweet. It was agreeable and drily poetic.

Yesterday, I made my way to the club again. Slowly and just before kick-off. It’s always good to see old mates. And a bevy tastes good. And there was a small kid just before me. His eyes lighting up after every goal. My own world felt good. I saw myself in him.

Dirk Kuyt opened the scoring. A limited player with yet unrestricted work ethic, that probably goes home and wouldn’t understand the number of zeroes on his paycheck. He just bamboozled home a rebound with vengeance, the only way he knows and what the situation asked for. And then Albert Riera. Sometimes showing unlimited skill, that somehow though could only be performed in flashes every now and then. Yesterday he showed the better side of himself. The crossbar threatened to repel his shot and effort but its power was too much to take. Then, Steven Gerrard did it three times for his first league hat-trick.

And then we went home with a wry smile. Got a fortnight to return to it all. A good break and a good rest. I think I owe it to myself to watch closely what might be a grand-finale.

In the meantime, Yanks OUT!

2009-02-28T19:33:00.001+01:00

The dream is over. It has been long over, but sometimes you just the need the final pinch to tell you that it is really over. And this pinch doesn’t even come close to pain. It just makes me laugh. Laugh at myself. For having dreamt for so long. And for what. I was watching the match but really I was looking into a mirror. And laughing at how much of a gullible twat I could have been. I have managed to sell myself a dream. I am probably hardly able to sell the Mediterranean sun to the pale English in mid February and yet I have been selling myself the lure of the February cold and snow to myself when I am positioned in a place that without any constraints has one of the best climates in the world. It can be a strange place this world but probably I have been acting even stranger than the world itself.

It’s a pinch in the morning to wake up. But I haven’t been in deep slumber. And there is no annoying alarm calls. I have woken up, smelt the coffee, and this morning seems to be a Sunday, so it’s not too bad to wake up to. A short walk and alongside the coffee I will smell that nice smell of the Sunday papers. They made be full of shite alright and too many supplements, but they won’t change my mood either. And when am fed up I’ll just put them aside. Simple as that.

Football is supposed to be an escape from reality. A fight against the establishment. But sometimes it has become the reality of life, or maybe even worse, the club I have followed most of my life and incessantly for the past ten years has become the establishment itself. So am I hopping from the fire into the frying-pan? Avoiding a Maltese road hole to get into a barrier? Avoid a puncture to do both my front lights? Partisan politics do my head in. The Maltese reds will understand this more than anyone. In the boardroom of Liverpool F.C. it’s not just partisan politics. It’s a whole masquerade of people wearing fairy masks to cover their grotesque intentions. They want to fit in a children’s Christams party when really they want an Eyes Wide Shut type of party and fuck everyone’s brains out. They want to look good with Liverpool’s fanbase, when all they want is to exploit it. This is not hard headedness. This is macabre deceptiveness. Who do you believe? Am fed up of it. I just watch the match. But even that is not sacred anymore. The players might be simple pawns. They are not your average soldier though or the legendary poor scouser Tommy dying for the cause in the Arabian sun. They are paid enough not to feed an army but to equip the whole army.

Liverpool today made a mediocre Boro side look good. Not brilliant. Just good. Enough to allow them a slice of luck from a corner and then their striker Tuncay to finish off beyond Pepe Reina. Luck favours the brave, or maybe in this case it punishes the half-hearted. The lads didn’t seem to have a hangover from Madrid. I would allow to that. They seemed to be carrying a nausea towards the Riverside Stadium.

They might want to have the club’s doctors to check their stomachs but travelling fans today would need more than a doctor to check their heads after witnessing such an ineptness. But at least Barack Obama might change the world and another type of dream is in place.

2009-02-06T19:02:00.002+01:00

I haven’t kept my appointment on this blog for two matches – Chelsea at home in the Premiership and Everton away in the FA Cup. After Wigan I felt that something changed. In me, in the manager, in the side, in everything. A couple of days away from it all, where I didn’t have anyone to speak to about what I used to call the beautiful game, or what some might say the obsession left me healing a bit. I was immersed in a big city that surprised me pleasantly, where even though it was close to prohibitively cold, I could appreciate and enjoy. I had a lot of time in my hands, but I just didn’t bother to check the news coming away from Anfield. I got away from it all.

A very good mate sorted me the tickets for the Chelsea match. The grimy clouds, the shivering cold paving the red carpet for the snow to descend, the rows of council houses that in The Wire they’d be probably called projects, were for once only a mere distant background. A couple of bevs from The Salisbury with a good set of lads, lifted me up. The short walk to Anfield, the Shankly gates quiet yet imposing, and finally the green, green grass of Anfield itself made one magnificent view. Watching it closely was even much better than from afar through some angled expensive lens that can make an ordinary usually pyjama clad girl look exotically beautiful.

And then the match. The main reason why I travelled this far, and have been spending on most of my earnings since I left college. The reds imposed themselves, and attacked towards me at the Anfield Road stand. Xabi Alonso probably went closest when he tested Peter Cech from outside the penalty area. It was good. Half-time came, they changed sides but the momento and initiative still was kept by the redmen. With Frank Lampard sent off, Liverpool even pressed harder, even though the build-up was somewhat on the slower side, as if predicting the forthcoming snow and thus afraid to accelerate in case they find a brick wall. John Terry and Alex did impersonate this proverbial wall, but ultimately Fernando Torres skimmed himself through some undone mortar and just headed Liverpool ahead. A couple of minutes later, Yossi Benayoun assisted the Spaniard for a brace.

While not elated, I was made up. Football can be a mirror of society, a mirror of a city. Sometimes, a place like Anfield can be the antithesis of real life. The escaping haven, where 40,000 people produce enough body heat not to feel shiveringly cold, the green grass contrast the black tarmac, and you can sing rather than snarl. And kids seem innocent, in awe of it all, rather than ratty, scheming something unchildish and plainly annoying.

The snow continued, the road became slippery, my neck was getting lubricated through a few. It was a good way to spend the last night away from home.

Home always feels good. Especially after being away from a bit. The sun was shining in the next morning, I was away from work, the hunger I had accumulating for close to two years was taken care of. The following day, back to the club, back to my second home, and a place I’ve missed badly when I was away for three months.

Everton, at Goodison Park, in an FA Cup fourth round replay. Some might say it doesn’t get much better than that. I felt rather different and diffident. I convinced my old man to come along. Football is just a social thing sometimes. Okay, admittedly I didn’t stay long next to him, but we were too far from the big screen and I am no big fan of them.

The match started decently enough from a red point of view, then the captain, had to be subbed off, and the match just deteriorated. The midfield looked toothless, and more than that it was like taking the hump off the camel’s back. In times of trouble and starvation, Liverpool didn’t have anything in store to revert to. When Liverpool were reduced to ten men as the Brazilian who is so Brazilian that seems to probably prefer the rain from the sun, got his marching orders, there was no-one able to take the reins and provide that extra effort to make up for the deficit.

Two minutes away from a penalty shoot-out, a nineteen year old kid did it for them. I couldn’t begrudge him. I finished slowly my bev, waited for the final whistle and went home, sleeping the whole night away.

Sometimes it feels like a habit I cannot kick. Strangely it didn’t feel like a simultaneous slap in the face and kick in the teeth. I only got that when I returned to my office and found an inbox full.

2009-01-29T19:40:00.000+01:00

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.

2009-01-26T08:41:00.001+01:00

Another match. Another tie at Anfield. Another derby. Another stalemate. Another poor first forty-five minutes. Another much improved second forty-five minutes. Another goal by the captain. Another reminder that the captain is really coming of age, and challenging Kenny’s throne. Another reminder that great minds think the same, and feel each other without touching. Another reminder that Fernando Torres is really something else.
Audacious, elegant, masterful twist of the body, then similar superlative touches to the ball. All this to let his companion run free, get past their organized and clustered attention, and then nullify the law of angles to score again, save the tie and let us start again. And it seems it’s going to take much more than we would have thought. It was already felt to be too much of a repeat we can do without, albeit all the intrigues that a Merseyside derby can offer, but maybe then Everton want to make the most of their last few years in the city of Liverpool, before they uproot to Kirby. You might hate your neighbor but the thought of going in isolation unsettles you to paranoid proportions.

Liverpool kicked-off in the first forty-five minutes, and for some time they didn’t seem to want to let away of the ball, as they dominated possession. Still, not much was being done with such possession superiority, and they were finding it hard to trouble a very organized and probably efficient Everton side. Chances were minimal and then close to the half hour mark, they found themselves defending, playing it all safe by giving away a corner. And once again, Liverpool were undone by a set-piece. This time, Tim Cahill was lurking a bit off the six yard box, still being the target for them, but rather than getting on target himself, he ping-ponged to Lescott to finish the act.

With one goal behind, and a set of ten men behind every ball, the act got all harder for Liverpool. It was time to widen the game, but with Ryan Babbel on the left and Dirk Kuyt on the right, the reds were getting predictable. Kuyt was his usual busy self, even though admittedly he was guilty of missing the game’s best chance when with time and space in his hands, he shot too centrally into Tim Howard’s body. It was a rare moment when Liverpool outnumbered Everton in their own penalty area. On the other hand, Babbel was given another chance but I feel he squandered it as much as Kuyt did his. Too many times, he was going for the easy option, preferring to knock the ball against his marker rather than taking him on, and hardly ever menaced into the penalty area. He’s been disappointing in the first half of the season, and so far started the second half equally poorly. It was no surprise seeing him being subbed by Albert Riera.

Once again, Liverpool failed to make the home advantage count, and doing it all over again at Goodison Park does not feel as daunting. Away grounds seem to let the reds express themselves better, and it is almost apt that the next match is away to Wigan. I am not getting too concerned though as one particular Spaniard seems to be getting back to his best, and with that the dream can only resuscitate itself.

2009-01-20T18:16:00.000+01:00

For nineteen minutes I was feeling that happy Mondays do exist. As much as of an antonym it sounds and feels, Steven Gerrard seemed to be once again able to raise head and shoulders above the others, defy the odds and create something out of nothing. A sideways pass by Albert Riera found the captain with some room to maneuver, the goal in sight but still some distance away from it all. The distance proved to be no hindrance to the superlative captain, as he shot lowly beyond the reach of Tim Howard and found the net for the ninth time in this Premiership campaign.

Such a goal was a worthy winner of any derby, any match, or of any confrontation, but by the end of the match, we were all left in the world of Bob Geldof with his tune ‘I don’t like Mondays’ echoing through our ears, as Tim Cahill made the most of an insidious angled free-kick of Mikel Arteta and left Liverpool with no time or strength to retaliate.

Another two points lost, another stalemate at Anfield. So far Liverpool have drew five, and won only one more. While Liverpool are still unbeaten, they have lost too many points that are in no way retrievable. After Gerrard’s goal, the reds seemed to be happy to quietly give up the initiative and act pragmatically. In front of them was a side that had a good first forty-five minutes, but the gulf in class and table positioning seemed to be now telling. Rafael Benitez looked bold enough with his starting line-up, electing for both Robbie Keane and Fernando Torres upfront, whilst sacrificing Javier Mascherano on the bench. The breaking of the deadlock seemed to be foremost in Benitez’s mind, and once it got attained he was slowly transforming his boldness to cautiousness. In a way it is understandable, as Liverpool got a back four and a keeper solid and reliable enough to be able to sit on a one goal lead. This season so far, they only gave up a lead once, back at the start of November against an adrenaline induced Spurs side who seemed intent to make Harry Redknapp look as the biggest motivator. When taking away this match, Liverpool drew four times at home, and a further three away. Five of such draws were scoreless, with the remaining two seeing Liverpool saving the game after going behind.

This was the derby though, and as so many times the case, form and statistics are only there to be thrown out of the window. The title challenge has suffered another blow, the destiny is not merely in Liverpool’s hands either, but by no means has followed the direction of form and statistics. The walls of Anfield are still there to repel that.

2009-01-11T08:56:00.000+01:00

Friday felt like a rally cry, with Benitez uncharacteristically laying into Ferguson, the manager who had the nerve to send him a letter discussing tactics after his Istanbul night back in 2005. He was prepared for it, a small question and he put out a whole foolscap, stating fact after fact. He must have been pondering the issue for some time and with his side sitting on top of the league, he felt that it was the apt time to deliver his attack. The media was divided about it, the Liverpool fans, myself included loved it unanimously. He has given good quotes in his five years at the club, but this was not a good quote, this was Shanklyism. Yesterday though, returning to the VIP area, rather than the dugout, his tactics and approach to the game reminded more of the last couple of years of Houllier rather than of the great man.

The game plan at the beginning looked similar to the one started against Newcastle at St James Park, a mere two weeks ago, a game plan that gave a 5-1 victory. The big difference today though was this time Stoke did not let Liverpool play the way Newcastle did. In the first forty-five minutes back in St James Park, Newcastle committed only two fouls. This was not a case of Stoke acting like dogs of war, but their muscle proved to be much sterner and left Liverpool unable to wriggle themselves through. The frozen conditions seemed to have a serious effect on Liverpool’s South American midfield as both Lucas Leiva and Javier Mascherano looked sterile. The former looked to revert back to type after a couple of encouraging performances, looking too pedestrian, always choosing the easy option, passing to the closest teammate and many times late in the tackle.

The lateral personnel were equally ineffective, unable to stretch the Stoke back four, or better their back ten, both ending up being substituted. Operating on the right-back position, Jamie Carragher looked to be pushing forward trying to give a hand to Yossi Benayoun but at times he was being found out that he’s essentially a centre-back operating on the flank out of necessity rather than imagination. Fabio Aurelio looked rather stiff, and there was no marauding of the flank at all. It might be a harsh indictment but the rookie Emiliano Insua has actually been missed.

Steven Gerrard had a quiet game by his standards, at times struggling to really get hold of the game as he has ravishly done so many times over and again. Rather than having an off day, it was more his positioning, just behind Dirk Kuyt that seemed to impede him from doing so. Still, he was the main inspiration, and had gone agonisingly close twice in the second forty-five minutes. Both times, the frame of the goal shunned him, first after a direct free-kick won ably by Ryan Babel and not in a position too dissimilar from where he scored at Anfield against Stoke only to be disallowed. The second time, in the very dying minutes, a great lay off by Fernando Torres saw him connect while closely watched, beat the keeper but not the bar once again.

It might feel like a tale of hard luck, but the feeling is more of dejection than anything else. The rally cry has not been matched but this was not even a lost battle, rather an unsatisfactory one with admittedly a couple of fatalities that in football terms mean two points dropped.

2009-01-04T10:28:00.001+01:00

Admittedly, I haven’t really been looking that forward for this match. With the Steven Gerrard case at the back of my mind and, the constant glances at the league table and the forthcoming fixtures, I was seeing this rather as a distraction from the very bread and butter that is the league. Maybe being top in something somehow narrows your perspective on the wider scheme of things. Cometh the hour, this sense of indifference quickly subsided to nothing and with Steven Gerrard at the middle of the park, doing what he is born to instinctively do, this proved one very welcomed distraction and a reminder that the FA Cup is the oldest and one of the most beautiful competitions in the world.

While Liverpool and Preston North End have always moved in parallel directions, a common attribute in both club’s history books is the name of Bill Shankly, the father of modern Liverpool, who before taking the hotseat at Anfield back in 1959, he has plied his trade at Deepdale in their white shirt, back then without a tie. It was only fitting for the travelling Kop to chant the name of this extraordinary human being, that his human heart and stubbornness to succeed made so many people dare to believe and consequentially happy.

Preston North End treated the match as you would expect from a side currently doing well in their own league, and playing at home in front of their biggest crowd since 1972. Liverpool replied though with equal hard work and determination, confident with their status but leaving behind any trait of complacency. Couple with this, particularly on the twenty-fifth minute was the inventiveness of Albert Riera, whereby elegantly and on the green grass of Deepdale, made his way through a couple of defenders and finally rather than crossing he chose to unleash an unstoppable shot that the net graciously welcomed.

Liverpool did not stop there and continued pressing forward, often cutting through, but unfortunately on the day, Robbie Keane once again showed his old self in a red shirt, when presented with gilt-edged chances he either shot at the keeper or simply missed horribly. His confidence showed its state when just before half-time he was once again presented with a decent chance but rather than letting his striking instincts take hold, he opted to peculiarly pass to a more withdrawn Xabi Alonso.

The only taint on this match was actually the full withdrawal of Xabi Alonso at half-time, who midway through the second half appeared limping towards the Liverpool dugout accompanied with the club’s doctor. Apparently he had to stitch his instep, hopefully these six days till the encounter against Stoke at the Brittania would be ample to heal and see the Basque once again pulling the strings in the Liverpool midfield. With Xabi Alonso on the sidelines, rather than in the middle, Preston North End enjoyed more possession and were making frequent forays into Liverpool’s area, that tested Diego Cavalieri’s decision making rather than his agility.

Seventeen minutes from time, finally Fernando Torres returned on the pitch. His first touches showed the expected rustiness, but later at the very end, as you would expect he has put his name on the score-sheet. It was thanks to the impeccable altruism of the captain who with just the keeper to beat opted to pass to him to present him with the easiest of chances, and make the score 2-0.

It is maybe also apt to remind that while it is common knowledge that Liverpool are seven points to the good compared to last season, this time last year, the reds were rightly barracked from all quarters for an inept display in this same competition against Luton Town that finished in a 1-1 draw. Liverpool are today hungrier, meaner and simply more appetizing on all fronts.

2008-12-29T00:07:00.002+01:00

Liverpool had to travel further up north to honour their commitments against Newcastle United, with kick-off a mere forty-three hours after the final whistle at Anfield during the Bolton rout. The Bolton match was deemed one of the better displays of the season, but today was not a mere geographical ascendancy as Liverpool completely massacred Newcastle United, with a final score of 5-1 leaving the latest Newcastle manager Joe Kinnear having no complaints to register and probably secretly thanking his predecessors for leaving him with Shay Given as his goalkeeper. Very rarely hat-trick heroes end up on the losing side, but even rarer a five-times beaten keeper leaves the pitch with his head held up high. Today was one of them though. At the other end of the pitch for Newcastle it was a stark reminder for their captain, that you might geographically move further up north, but eventually in footballing terms you can only go down after leaving Liverpool.

Rafael Benítez, still convalescing after his kidney stones operation, called three changes from the starting eleven that has beaten Bolton so comprehensively. It was deemed as superfluous by many, a case of rotating for the sake of it, as Xabi Alonso, Albert Riera and more controversially the finally on-form Robbie Keane made way for Javier Mascherano, Lucas Leiva and Ryan Babel, thus leaving Dirk Kuyt as the lone front-man. The deemed superfluousness of the manager though gave the side a superfluidity effect as the red men attacked the Newcastle goal with ease, with the Geordies in no man’s land, properly undone by the incisive passing and single mindedness of the Liverpool midfield to attack at every opportunity.

It took Liverpool and particularly Steven Gerrard half an hour to open the score, and till then the only worry that was admittedly nagging me was if Liverpool would pay a heavy price for the missed chances. My worry was as unfounded though as much as my worries earlier on this year of whether Barack Obama would win the U.S. presidential elections. Five minutes later, Steven Gerrard from scorer turned provider as he curled in a corner-kick which Sami Hyypia simply deposited through his head into the net. Another unfounded worry arose just before half-time when for the till then comfortable Liverpool rearguard switched off to allow David Edgar to head home and flatter the Geordies with a 2-1 half-time score.

Ryan Babel though restored Liverpool’s two goal lead, only five minutes after the restart and gave the result a further sense of credibility. Defending or maybe better trying to defend high up soon left Newcastle more exposed and once again the captain made the most of it as he ran on a Lucas Leiva pass and rounded the advanced keeper.

Shortly before the once again very effective Yossi Benayoun made way to Xabi Alonso, and again Rafael Benítez could afford to tinker with his side without tempering with Liverpool’s momentum as the twice on the score-sheet Steven Gerrard made way for rookie David N’Gog and Martin Skrtel returned into the side for the first time after his horrendous injury at the City of Manchester Stadium for Dirk Kuyt. It took David N’Ggog only seven minutes to make his mark on the game as he made his way into their penalty area only to be upended, and thus giving the opportunity to Xabi Alonso to test his penalty capabilities in the absence of the captain, a test he passed with flying colours.

With Rafael Benítez high in the stands, Liverpool confirmed their lofty position, and this time rather than through their doggedness and resilience, it was with aplomb. Christmas was spent on top of the league, and so will be New Year’s Day. It is now unequivocal that after twenty games, Liverpool are more than good value for their position, the ‘top of the league’ chant couple with the ‘we shall not be moved’ one. The later Chelsea slip at Craven Cottage was a simple reminder that it is the reds of Liverpool that are the team of the moment.

2008-12-27T17:11:00.001+01:00

While Liverpool spent Christmas day on top of the league, they kicked off on Boxing Day knowing that they must win to keep that position and prolong the feel-good factor that only such position can render. With such imperative ahead of them, the redmen forgot the previous three consecutive draws and just embarked on a journey towards the Bolton goal that gave the match a one-way traffic scenario that admittedly is usually more seen at Anfield by the turnstiles before kick-off rather than on the pitch during the match. And once again, contrary to what was the case in the previous three matches and in a one-way traffic situation, the play was flowing and dynamic, with the whole width of Anfield being used purposefully.

The deadlock duly did not take long to be broken. Twenty-six minutes since kick-off, Steven Gerrard directed a second successive corner towards Albert Riera, whereby the Spaniard met through his stretched left leg to beat the opposing keeper on the first post. Riera was already showing the better side of himself on the day, as he was stretching the Bolton back four time and again. On the other flank, Yossi Benayoun only replicated the Spaniard’s deeds, sometimes apart from the goal, being even more direct as he was cutting inside their penalty area with ease that his skill can afford him.

The confidence oozing into the reds seems to have finally rubbed on Robbie Keane, who for the first time this season, he has now scored in back to back matches. Steven Gerrard picked him up with a sublime pass, but he still was left with work to do. Keane only obliged though as he raced into the penalty area and just smashed the ball into the only place that strikers mind of. Five minutes later, Liverpool were given the rare task of defending a set-piece, but the rarity of the task was soon transformed into the old Liverpool adage of pass and move with the Irishman finishing off. Pepe Reina, who was probably dying of boredom since then, quickly picked up the pieces of the aforementioned and rolled towards Xabi Alonso. The latter ran most of the pitch with Benayoun and Keane zigzagging before him. Alonso played the former in, only to pass to Keane to just slot in his second of the day. The monkey should now be finally off his back and if yesterday was any sign of anything, it’d be more plausible to see him walking one in the park amiably rather than fighting it off his shoulders.

Bolton admitted their situation as a junction, while Liverpool continued with the confidence of a driver that has done the same route for years and years. Gears were changed and while on the straight, the driving abilities of Nabil El Zhar, Lucas Leiva and David N’Gog were given a try out.

Being Boxing Day, the Kop was in full festive spirit but there was no time for Christmas carols, as the cry of ‘top of the league’ echoed around Anfield with authority.

2008-12-24T15:23:00.002+01:00

Top of the league

On top of the league on Christmas day. This has been unchartered territory for Liverpool at this time of the year for a good twelve years. Furthermore, this position has been unchartered for Liverpool come May for a good other eight years, in which four different managers including the current Rafael Benitez have tried but eventually came short to charter. Just before these years, such position and territory was not only not unchartered for Liverpool, but Liverpool seemed to have a permanent title to it.

Liverpool have been now occupying the first position consistently since the first day of December. Ironically enough though, from the first day that Liverpool did climb to such position there have been more questions to the credibility of Liverpool’s title challenge than in the beginning of the summer. It was a lame score-less draw against West Ham at Anfield that let Liverpool shadow themselves above Chelsea with one point. It may also be apt to remind that since the first day of the season back in August, Liverpool have never had an inferior tally of points to the same Chelsea, and subsequently to any other side. Thus, it is only natural to argue that Liverpool have kept a high degree of consistency in the league so far, coupled with an excellent European campaign in which out of six matches they gathered fourteen points, qualifying to the last sixteen with a game in hand and eventually winning their group, which ironically once again, pitted them against the might of Real Madrid come February. But then again, irony apart, the magic of the European Cup might have decided that it is now high time that these truly European pedigreed clubs meet and give the same cup a bit of glitter that has been sadly lacking in the group stages.

Bafflingly rather than ironically, it has been the home form that has left Liverpool quite vulnerable to criticism. They are still unbeaten, but out of nine matches Liverpool failed to win four times. The four sides go with the names of Stoke, Fulham, West Ham and Hull. Two of these sides have been swept aside in the past with unnerving ease in the past. They are usually sides that notwithstanding their limitations they come over to Anfield and usually play their game thus leaving space to the Liverpool forwards to duly exploit. Spaces were once again left this time but they were not used at all, or at least not to the maximum. On the other hand, what was Benitez’s Achilles heel in his first couple of seasons, has now been transformed into a spring step – the away form. From the same number of matches as at Anfield, Liverpool acquired twenty, one point more than from home. In the grander scheme of things, this has made up for the dropping of points at home. Ewood Park and The City of Manchester Stadium were both conquered, six points won, with six goals being scored at, when last year Liverpool failed to score in both and only got two points at.

What though owes a lot to Liverpool’s first position are the excellent displays and results against Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal, the former two away from home. Winning such encounters, mean you get the three points when your opposition get none. It sounds rather puerile, but had Liverpool lost to say Chelsea away from home as most critics expected, and then beat both West Ham and Fulham which once again was as expected by both critics and fans, Liverpool would be one point better off today, but then would be trailing Chelsea by one point. The Premiership is indeed a marathon, but here the track differs all the time and you can’t simply put your head down and race against time. The hurdles here do move uncompromisingly and it is all in the spirit of a title race. Tthe psychology involved is much more than a simple war of words. And as a fan, there is few better feelings than beating the likes of Chelsea in their own pad and them bastard Mancs whether at home or away.

Some of the times Liverpool have been admittedly short of inspirational. Considering they have been deprived of the services of Fernardo Torres who can inspire the grumpiest and the most immobile due to a gigantic beer gut into a constant bounce while claiming him as Liverpool’s number nine. For that though Liverpool have more than made up with resilience, character and doggedness. They have knocked on the door a couple of times and unmanaged to get in. But when they found themselves locked inside, they made sure that they unhinge the front door rather than escape through a window. Liverpool have turned a defeat into a victory four times, and salvaged a draw after going down twice.

On a more personal level, Steven Gerrard has been in his consistent superlative form. Xabi Alonso has transformed himself, forgetting us his past couple of seasons and remind us of his earlier seasons in Liverpool’s red. He chose to forget the summer transfer speculation and relive Spain’s European’s victory. In summer he has put aside the Basque region where he hails from and ultimately remembered he is the holder of a Spanish passport. These past few months, he forgot that yes, Benitez wanted to offload him and remembered that the same Benitez was the same manager that parted ten million sterling and close to half his budget to get his services back in 2004. I will also choose Dirk Kuyt who is miles away from his difficult second season at Anfield and seems to have put his personal grievances aside. Kuyt strikes me as a true gentleman, who unlike many of the current generation would have not looked out of place had he arrived into the football scene twenty, thirty years ago. Personal tragedies hit him more than others. This season so far he has been in his consistent workaholic mode on the flank, while he has chipped in with five goals.

After his brilliant goal against Arsenal, I think Robbie Keane deserves his quest to pass judgement on him at the end of the season to be respected. My two disappointments have been Ryan Babel and Andrei Dossena. After a promising debut season, Babel looks like an elected minister unable to deliver the promises that elected him in the first place. He has hardly been in the starting line-up but when he was thrown into the fray he not only failed to divert the current of the game but even sometimes looked disinterested, giving away possession cheaply. Last season he had the biggest impact when coming from the bench. He even asked for a loan transfer. I can suspect that lately Benitez, being what he is has given him the cold shoulder but I think that a son of an immigrant family who has done well for himself is made of sterner stuff. And then, Dossena, who Benitez brought as a left-back. He has looked handful when attacking the flank, but when you bring a guard dog you don’t want a playful canine.

On the grey side reflecting the current away kit stands Javier Mascherano. He has been by no means poor, but he has not been the real Argentinean beast who can also play as he has showed since his loan move turned permanent from West Ham. The real exception has been against Manchester United at Anfield back in September. I believe he needs and will eventually step up his game and make Liverpool’s midfield more of a power plant.

This has been one of the tighter leagues for a number of years. In the relegation zone, there is a side that contains the likes of Robinho and Wright-Phillips. Aston Villa are threatening the hierarchy and exclusiveness of the top four. And like the Masch, Liverpool may need to step up their game further, but once again like the Masch, I believe Liverpool do have more in reserve that is yet to be unleashed.

For now and Christmas day, I will raise a glass to the league leaders.

2008-12-22T18:08:00.000+01:00

The red shorts looked out of place with the grey shirts, probably thanks to an over meticulous referee who was afraid Liverpool’s usual away grey shorts would confuse him with Arsenal’s white shorts. As much as the red shorts looked out of place though, by the end of the match it was the grey Liverpool tops that looked spot on the verdict of the match. Neither white nor black. Such is life, far from a tabloid headline, there are an awful number of ways to look into this 1-1 result at the Emirates. And such has been the constant verdict of the so far life on top for Liverpool. An excuse has always been forthcoming to excuse Liverpool’s name at the top on the black on white table.

Alongside Rafael Benitez, Javier Mascherano stayed at home. Lucas Leiva filled in admirably, even though like the former’s messages on a mobile phone could never be the same as the real thing. Such a game would have been tailor made for the qualities and spirit of the Argentinean. Dirk Kuyt though once again proved in concrete terms that such a game is his perfect type, as much as a queen bee stinging an intruder, there sweating it out, helping his left-back while harrying the opposing right-back, that at one time looked to bring the goods if only Steven Gerrard connected properly with an open goal at his mercy, with his diagonal pass after winning what would be in the Emirates an unorthodox ball.

As much as I am talking of hard work though, it was two moments of superlative footballing ability that gave the score-line credence. Firstly it was Van Persie who arrested a ball sublimely while taking neither Daniel Agger nor Jamie Carragher as prisoners. After such chest control he let the ball bounce and coolly smashed beyond Pepe Reina. Sometimes you have to make do with geniality.

Robbie Keane’s goal was not too far from the exquisiteness of the Dutchman’s, even though containing a couple of handmade touches. Daniel Agger looked to clear overboard that prompted the usual ‘hoof’ cry from the usual quiet Arsenal crowd. With the ball though bouncing over his shoulder Keane showed the single mindedness of a hungry beast getting its prey. Surrounded by a couple of Gunners he outpaced them, forgot them and with his eyes firmly on the ball he connected perfectly to outshoot the keeper. It was one of those moments where all the doubts of the previous months were forgotten and for a split second we believed that there would be only one outcome and eventually it did happen with aplomb.

The half-time whistle only postponed Liverpool’s ascendancy. Coming back from the dressing-room, Liverpool continued where they have left and forced the usually flamboyant Arsenal looking for their shells. It didn’t last till the end though and it slowed paradoxically when Arsenal had Adebayor sent off, admittedly harshly. The Liverpool substitutions showed a will to get the full points from the fixture but objectively they were rather late and all three lacked the ability to have a stamp of authority that could wrap up such a fixture. Ryan Babel was decidedly wasteful in his first touches, and improved too late, while N’Gog and Nabil El Zhar look more as lucky charms than bankers.

It has been then been declared a grey result, but like yesterday’s Liverpool away top, the grey is very light and the sweat could be easily traced. What cannot be argued against though that is the seventh point from three matches in the exclusive league of the English Champions League’s representatives.

2008-12-14T20:28:00.002+01:00

Good Enough?

We have drawn four times at home already. With the score level against Hull at home, Javier Mascherano was taken off, only to be substituted by Lucas Leiva. In the meantime the twenty million signing Robbie Keane has spent most of the game warming up. A chance to build a four point gap over Chelsea has now been squandered. We are not good enough to win the league.

Only May will give the final verdict of whether Liverpool are good enough to win the league. Till now, we are good enough to be on top of the league. The table never lies. The stark reality of it has been hurting our eyes for years. The same stark reality of a table after seventeen matches can now be used to glee at. This is not a look from a different angle. This is the same view from the same angle, only with a different object at the focal point. All we asked for in the summer was a proper challenge for the top position. It is now us who are being challenged for the top spot.

The home record does leave questions. The familiar surroundings of Anfield has not lately bred confidence and swagger. It has bred doubts and over-trying. The away record is only second to Chelsea. The Achilles’ heel of Rafa’s first years has now been turned into a spring into his step. The sum total of the home and away record is the best we’ve had for years. To put everything into perspective, at this stage of the season, we are seven points better off than the last title-winning campaign. Things have changed since then. It could be argued the twenty-two sides were more evenly balanced back then. The so-called top four did not really exist. The cash afforded by the Premier League and even more Champions League football did not create the distinction between the haves and the have-nots.

Failure to win at home is rightly considered as the loss of two points. Equally we have won away from home, games that we didn’t have any right to win. We are sometimes getting blinkered too much. The draw against West Ham at Anfield was considered as almost as a catastrophe and a sign of not being good enough. The same side has just travelled to Stamford Bridge and got a draw again, this time after going ahead. Liverpool had six shots on target on the day against West Ham’s two. Today Chelsea managed eight, whilst West Ham managed the same as they did at Anfield. I can’t see Scolari claiming any massacre or feeling too hard done by.

Against Hull, Liverpool found themselves two goals down in twenty-two minutes. They leveled the score in no time. A comeback against the surprise package of the season has been watered down by the failure to get the three points. Maybe the frustrations of two consecutive draws at Anfield took its toll. I am the first to admit to feeling dejected straight after the final whistle.

This is a season that has so far given us more than we have been expecting. The undisputable star of last year is currently on the sidelines, and has been for the bigger part of the season so far. Liverpool miss Torres as much as a handle is missed from a mug. Sometimes we felt like getting burnt due to the lack of handle. The tea is still there though, and we should simply enjoy it on this cold December night.

2008-12-14T07:00:00.001+01:00

It all started with a frenetic pace that would have looked more in place at a shopping centre on Christmas Eve rather than on the 13th day of December. Liverpool were spraying the ball around with ease, and arriving into Hull’s penalty area swiftly, an urgent attitude replacing the accustomed patient one. On the other end, Hull did not just sit back, but replicated such approach in their own way, finding holes, unguarded lanes or maybe better sleeping watchmen in the Liverpool rearguard. And in such unguarded lanes and holes, they did not find walls but openings that with some unexpected help gave them a two goal advantage in twenty-two minutes. The lately custom of clean sheets at Anfield was discarded and breached in no time.

While a recent custom was being breached, Liverpool looked to revert to the start of the season custom of coming back with vengeance and claw back the deficit. And as has been the custom for most of these last years at Anfield, Steven Gerrard was at the very thick of it when in eight minutes he found the net twice and leveled the score. The early shock was numbed, and more than that Liverpool looked into the ascendancy, with the third goal hanging in the air. It was not to be though, and the referee’s whistle to signal the end of the first forty-five minutes gave a verdict of a level score, similar to the latest Anfield matches against Fulham and West Ham, but contrary to the latter saw Liverpool far more colourful than the recent blankish one.

Liverpool came back for the second forty-five minutes looking to follow where they left in the prior forty-five. Hull looked menacing when they had a go at Liverpool but were equally shaky when having to defend Liverpool’s attacks. As the clock was winding down though, more urgently than Liverpool’s approach was suggesting, the ideas were getting mixed up and while Sami Hyypia particularly went very close as he hit the post from one corner, the now air of frustration and dread that it is going to be another two points lost at home took centre hold. The final whistle only confirmed such feelings.

By the end the frenetic pace of the start of the match felt like a distant memory. In most other matches at home, two goals would have meant a comfortable victory but Liverpool paid the price for a negligent start at the match. Looking further into it though, it might have been the price for going to the jugular from the onset, after dropping too many points when starting patiently.

Home at the moment is not the cozy place you would think of in a cold day in December. With expectations very high, and a very good away record, it seems the basics are going bereft. The familiar surroundings of Anfield seem to be breeding contempt rather than security. If the league is our bread and butter, home should be the plate where it is all served on. The plate is not yet cracked but it does look damp.

2008-12-10T18:35:00.001+01:00

With Liverpool’s name already in the pot of the last sixteen, Rafael Benitez earned the right to shuffle his pack on his travel to Eindhoven while even affording to keep some of his favourites back home in Liverpool. It was one of the most rotated side in his five years at Anfield, but once again the boss showed how well he knows the pack on his favoured table, a table that has seen him consistently defy the odds.

Admittedly, there was nothing against the odds yesterday. This was no repeat of Olympiakos in 2004, or even for the matter, last year’s Marseille at the Stade Velodrome. Still he managed to make the most of some of his lads that this year have been constantly getting the wrap, and also were part of a side that was hammered just a month away in the Carling Cup exit at White Hart Lane. This time though, having just a couple more of old heads alongside them, most notably Jamie Carragher, they looked miles better from that forgettable night. Simultaneously, their confidence and aptitude soared. Some might argue the difference might have only been a weaker opposition. It might be the case, but still the called up lads all gave up a very good account of themselves, and the three goals were all well taken goals that will give them a shoot in their arms, or in this case better in their feet.

Robbie Keane was once again absent from the score-sheet but his work rate and sublime pass that paved the way for N’Gog’s first goal is enough on a night like yesterday in my books. Ryan Babbel showed glimpses of last year’s much better campaign, while Albert Riera showed a left peg that so far has mostly paraded skill and sleekness. Yesterday, it showed a more sinister side to it, and I for one would be looking forward to see this powerful side of it more often.

Liverpool’s name was already in its pot, but with a makeshift side, Liverpool ensured their name to be in the more exclusive pot of group winners. It will take us ten days to learn the next opponents, and I am sure in these days a certain old friend, will have a few sleepless nights as deep down he will be dreading the red shirt, the red flags and the red bricks of Anfield.

2008-12-07T08:24:00.001+01:00

They tried to make us feel like bastards. Painting our existence at the very top of the table, as a mistake that bore an illegitimate being. As if we have to answer for why our total points amassed so far had the cheek and temerity of surpassing all the other teams’. And at times yesterday admittedly, in the first forty-five minutes Liverpool did look like a dysfunctional family, all over the pitch having a run around so as to keep away from the house. While running around, most of the possession was being kept, but effective forays towards the Blackburn defence were as scarce as Paul Ince’s wins in the last ten matches. The only real effective foray of note had Yossi Benayoun beating their offside trap, winning metres towards goal but had a brilliant tackle by the ex-red and Academy graduate Stephen Warnock thwarting him while pulling the trigger.

While Liverpool kept possession in the first-forty five minutes, it was Blackburn who went closer to open the score. Steven Gerrard gave up possession through a sloppy pass that was intercepted by Gamst Pedersen, who after a few steps unleashed an almost unstoppable stop. Pepe Reina was as alert and effective as ever, as he pulled one great save and thwarted the ball against the crossbar. Having very little to do, Reina must even find it hard to keep warm in such temperatures, but yesterday once again he proved his worth for the side as he prevented Liverpool going one goal down, and the already fragile morale of his team-mates crash to the floor.

Liverpool were adjusting better in the second forty-five minutes and Xabi Alonso tested the once England number one. Ensuing this test of their keeper was another test of Liverpool’s luck as Paul Robinson’s save journeyed into the path of Benayoun, whose instincts had him lurking around. At a point blank range he tried to scramble the ball in, but inexplicable the ball slipped away from the net and Blackburn got away with a corner. Shortly after though, Alonso swapped power to precision, and this time the only result was a goal. Liverpool finally broke an iceberg that has prevented them to score in two consecutive games and looked to have been blocking their minds. Ten minutes later, it was Benayoun who looked to have secured Liverpool the three points. Unleashed on the right by Dirk Kuyt, Benayoun this time had the better of Warnock, and from a pretty narrow angle he managed to get the better of Robinson and the logic of protractors.

Soon Liverpool found themselves in a smooth territory but like most of the times, this was too much for them. Six minutes from times, they let in a goal for the first time in league football since Pavulychenko did it for Tottenham back on the first day of November. This time though, while a certain air of tension returned back, Liverpool did not give up any points and the same tension was diffused by the captain Gerrard, as with an open goal at his mercy, just outside the penalty area he side-footed home. Albert Riera started it all as he let Nabil El Zhar free and committed Robinson to block from outside his area through his feet. Riera quickly picked up the pieces to then pass to Gerrard for the wrapping up of points and the top position.

And for now, till next Saturday I will enjoy that, along a couple of Christmas parties.

2008-12-02T17:24:00.002+01:00

A bit of media whoring today, as I was put on the official website, under the feature, Reds Around the World.

My original script read like this:

Everyone in Liverpool is either born a red or a blue. It is a destiny chosen for them, and they carry their colour through their life, whether they stay in their city of birth or if they uproot. It is as natural as the family you are born into. It is obviously seen as the most natural in Liverpool, where it is the natural habitat of Liverpool F.C.’s support and rightly so. For a lot of people around the world, the fandom that fills in your life is closer than you might ever think. I was born in Malta, an island, some three hours and a half flight away from Liverpool. It was 1980, a year after from when the British troops had officially left the island after gaining independence, fifteen years earlier. Red or blue back then at home was more of a case of your political allegiance which was equally ferocious as the football divide back in Merseyside.

A lot of people who are impressed or probably more accurately bemused by my fanaticism on Liverpool, ask me when did you become a fan. I honestly don’t have an answer. I believe I was born a red. Some people expect me to say that I was won over the bright red shirts in one particular F.A. Cup final in the eighties, the decade of my childhood. Hand on hear though, it can never be the case, as back then in our humble home we only had a black and white television set. Still thinking about it, I do remember the 1989 Cup Final. Over here it used to be transmitted through an Italian channel called TMC, that thanks to the geographical proximity we used to get for free on our television sets through a poxy aerial on our roofs. Peter Frampton’s ‘Which Way the Wind Blows’ should have been the soundtrack to the match itself though rather than an Italian pundit getting beyond himself every now and then, as every now and then with a slight change in the direction of the wind or even worse an occasional gust of wind would seriously affect the picture offered to us. And I think that day in May might have been sunny in England, but it was surely windy back home. In the greater scheme of things it was only a hurdle through a marathon as eventually by the end of the match I was beyond myself with excitement and happiness. And then on Sunday I completed my celebrations by waking up as early as possible to get to the newsagents to get the paper and thus would be the proud owner of a few pictures of the reds celebrating the F.A. Cup victory, which once again, needless to say were still in black and white.

Since then a lot changed, cable television became the order of the day and local papers started printing in colour. My days in school and college changed into a job in banking, with the main perk being a salary that meant I could now afford the first trip to Anfield. It was a tour organised by our local supporters club, which by then I was only a member and later I served as a secretary amongst other posts. I was on the phone to put my name in the second I received the newsletter. I had a few sleepless nights thinking that if the club wouldn’t get the numbers I will only get my deposit back. But it was one of those induced fears that had no base at all, like when you lately see Steven Gerrard prepping up to take a penalty area. There are doubts but there is only one outcome, be it in the first or the ninetieth minute of the match. It was against Bradford when the Titi Camara mania was hitting full scale. Still, the thing that still sends shiver down my spine till this very day, nine years after is the green, green grass of Anfield. It was a Monday night game and the floodlights were shining on what Bill Shankly once called professional grass of Anfield but it was one sight to behold. Maybe am boring and next time I will tell you about how intriguing watching paint dry is but that was my baptism when entering Anfield for the first time. My fears of not actually making it into Anfield have now changed into being a bad omen for the side as Bradford went up. Once again my fears were unfounded as Titi Camara quickly made it 1-1, Jamie Redknapp scored from the spot and lately Vegard Heggem nailed the score 3-1.

The local supporters club that by fate have the premises a five minute drive away from home has by now became my second home. The Liverbird outside must have brought the attention of a few Liverpool fans holidaying in Malta, at least enough to at first make an apprehensive step in. The apprehension though soon changed into confident storytelling about the mighty reds as they feel at ease in the place with Bill Shankly looking all over them and a replica of the European Cup taking pride of the place amongst other innumerable memorabilia. Before we would be probably sitting there trying to make heads or tails of the situation through the buffered voice of Stephen Hunter. Now the match on the box is practically guaranteed. Phone numbers and emails are then swapped, tickets are promised and most importantly a friendship is forged through the lure of the mighty reds. I am proud to say that some of my best friends are actually from Liverpool and they are another main reason why I travel to Liverpool regularly.

Anfield was soon not enough though, and the away European trips become another annual fix, starting from Sofia, when apart from the 4-2 score-line, we all talk about the cold that our Mediterranean bodies could hardly take during the match. Coruna was next, and then Leverkusen. For Leverkusen though we stayed in Cologne the night before and one of my happiest anecdotes happened there. I was all in the mood singing along with fellow reds with one eye on the Chelsea v Barcelona match. At one particular moment I was making my way through a mass of bodies, when am struck by a familiar face. A face you know you know but can’t put your finger on where. It was actually the then Rafa’s assistant Pako Ayestran. As we crossed each other I asked him if am right to think that it’s him. He confirmed me but told me to keep it quiet. And then I see Rafa. I thought am daydreaming, and like Scousers do when somebody tells them to keep quiet, I rushed to tell a couple of mates that Rafa’s in the pub. I was believed as much as an email which informs you that you are the lucky winner of the lottery. This time though, the email was not spam but as hard as it is to fathom had arrived from a secure server. I had no camera on me to record such anecdote, but my word has been backed by every other red in the pub.

A year after, Big Ears came to our club in Malta. There I had it before our eyes, shining as ever, trying any move possible to look as if you’re nervously scratching your brow when really you just want to make contact with her, who is closely supervised by two big men in black, while posing for a picture with her.

This year I spent the first three months in Australia, and I realised more than ever what Liverpool F.C. means to me even though being born nowhere near Anfield. I managed to follow the reds almost every match, but watching it on your own at two in the morning, is nowhere like being with your mates, having a couple of drinks steaming off a long day or even a long week at work, with the reds being the real focal point, the one thing that bonds together. When I was at the Nou Camp the day before another great trip and experience I could not help but be intrigued by the ‘Mes Que un Club’ (More than a club) written through different colour seats. In the case of Liverpool F.C. what should be written to make this club justice? ‘More than a club, an institution with Scouse values at its heart that fascinates all kinds of people around the world’. But then again, neither the Centenary, nor the Main Stand are wide enough for that to be inserted.

2008-12-02T02:02:00.002+01:00

Liverpool are now on top of the league, with same matches as Chelsea but one point to the better. As I made way to home over here, I just looked absent mindedly at the sky. It was clear and full of stars. It looked nice, but really I was really feeling cold and there was no sign of the sun that can warm me up. Or at least it has a few hours to rise, and send a few rays to overcome the coldness of it all. And it’s not the coldness of someone sitting high up on his own, but rather more of someone that who is up there but is far from satisfied. The glass is more than half full but the water is murky and is doubtful how good it is to drink it up. Well actually, nobody is bothering to as nobody dared celebrate that we are on top of the league.

Another clean sheet, but equally evocative another blank upfront. Against a side that is known for its water tight defense as much as a net that has got more holes than a dirty tart’s tights. But sometimes it does happen and you just have to ride it all up. Liverpool dominated possession as it was expected from them. The stage was all set after Chelsea’s defeat against Arsenal. And Liverpool worked well hard on it in the first forty-five minutes and time was on its side. Sami Hyypia made an unexpected return, and this lad, or rather now more aptly this gentleman was there, moving the ball forward from the very back, and when a set-piece occasion presented itself he got up there and went pretty close on more than one occasion. The other unexpected call up was equally impressive. Yossi Benayoun was presenting himself and stretching the West Ham defense and for most times only the hands of Ilunga were getting in his way. Equally impressive he won tackles when very occasionally West Ham ventured forward. In the middle of the field, Steven Gerrard was passing around and bossing around but on the day he seemed to forget his shooting boots. Cometh the hour, cometh the man, some might say. Yes, in one particular moment in an FA Cup Final against the same side, the same person scored one of the best goals ever and practically drove Liverpool to a penalty shoot-out that as the custom goes, Liverpool won. Today, he was there, much better balls were being laid for him but something about his cohesion and balance was seriously letting him down as he either flung the ball into the far corners of the terraces or else he just didn’t connect with the subject that could have turned one point into three.

Upfront, Kuyt was his usual busy self, and got out one of the better saves from Green. It all ended there though. Robbie Keane was still probably green with envy as he didn’t even manage that. He got subbed by N’Gog on the 66th minute. N’Gog was equally helpless and while he’s getting his chances at the start of the match by the boss and the one who splashed out close to twenty million on him, it is equally damning that during a stalemate, he was subbed by this one million signing who looks simultaneously comfortable on the ball and assured upfront as a rabbit before the green lights for the pedestrians but with headlights glaring on him. Keane has been getting his chances, Rafa has been putting him in the starting-line up for most of the times, but in his allotted time he is simply not proving his worth.

And the story continues. One Monday night that at times felt more like a Monday morning after a heavy Sunday afternoon. But at least the joys of the Sunday afternoon which could have also been much better if chances were taken, is still very recent and not too far-fetched.

2008-11-27T12:42:00.001+01:00

Liverpool got through the formality of putting their name alongside fifteen other names come December in a bowl. Some of the other fifteen names are yet to be confirmed, even though the bowl is more and more looking like a fish bowl, an exclusive small bowl that have the same fish swimming around year after year. Maybe though, it is also a testament to Rafael Benítez that the membership in such bowl is being taken for granted and considered as a formality. The final whistle and the confirmation of qualifying into the last sixteen were greeted with a polite applause and a couple of nods. The match itself didn’t provide that much to get exuberant and over-excited, but qualification with a game in hand, is no mean feat in my books. In his five years, Benítez achieved qualification from the group stages every year, and this after inheriting a side that its biggest achievement was actually qualifying into the group stages.

Talking about inheritance though, Benítez did inherit someone special, and yesterday night he was there delivering, after an absence of a match in which Liverpool disappointed. Benítez did inherit Steven Gerrard, after having a thorough nurturing from Gérard Houllier, but Benítez did not sit on his laurels and kept his estate in the bank for a rainy day. Benítez has invested in his main asset to mature and blossom, getting his dividends back in a number of goals that far exceed his tally under the previous manager. Even though sometimes looking to have their personalities clashing, they both compromise for the good and fortunes of Liverpool F.C. beyond their call of duty. Forget about perfect midfield partnerships and perfect striking duos, what we really have and should appreciate more is a great partnership of manager and captain. The manager calls the changes and the tactics, the captain implements them.

Xabi Alonso found himself strangely on the bye-line. There was no room for him to produce any of his trademark forward passes but instead he produced an equally sublime cross. With a whole mass in the middle of the penalty, Gerrard’s intelligence dictated him to distance himself from it all. With space created for himself he ghosted in at the very right moment and met the ball with his head to simply direct into the net for the eight time this season, a tally most strikers would be proud of.

Liverpool never really built on that advantage, and had their own shaky moments as Marseille pressed forward from time to time. The backline stood tall though to keep another clean sheet and when the back four got passed, Pepe Reina was there to thwart any danger.

Liverpool got what and where they wanted with the minimum of fuss, like a train arriving into its destination as expected. Maybe it is still apt to remember that such unceremonious journey had a lot to do with the return of an excellent driver who made the small things matter and made the most of an opportunity that he presented himself for. His drive and presence keep the train on the right track, and equally important arriving in time.

2008-11-23T04:16:00.001+01:00

As Danny Murphy shook hands with the stand-in captain Jamie Carragher before the match, it was hard not to reminisce how much the opposing captain of the day was seen and proved as a banker at Old Trafford in his Liverpool playing days. Fulham at home is as equally a banker, but at the end of the ninety minutes this banker proved solid and reliable as much as the failed mortgage banks in the United States. Comparatively enough to the situation, Newcastle bailed out the day and the joint leading position by replicating Fulham’s feat and keeping Chelsea at bay.

It was more a case of missing what you haven’t got rather than appreciating and making the most of what was on offer. With the captain Steven Gerrard on the sidelines due to an injury, Rafa had to shuffle his midfield, and I guess it was one shuffle too many as one of the men of the moment, Xabi Alonso ended up on the bench, with Lucas Leiva taking his place. It was another chance for the Brazilian to shine, but rather than standing out, he fitted well with the drab and gloomy weather that a November afternoon like yesterday can offer. The defence did alright, keeping a clean sheet, even though admittedly Pepe Reina had to be as alert as ever, and actually pulled out a couple of great saves to save the day. The midfield found it hard to get going and never actually did. Bursts into the penalty areas were few and far in between. Albert Riera was busying himself, making himself available and carrying the ball forward but ultimately on the day he was more of a hod-carrier than a builder. On the other side of the flank, Dirk Kuyt was as busy as usual, and got even pretty close as soon as the fifth minute, but that was the closest he ever got all game.

Alongside Robbie Keane, Fernando Torres looked lively and had the urgency that some of his team-mates looked to have missing, a signature of his on the score-sheet looked promising but never materialised. Xabi Alonso did make an appearance later on the match, but while doing all the right things his cameo appearance failed to pull the strings one more time and give Liverpool what they wanted and needed, as patience was being transformed to nail biting, not much by the work on the pitch as much as that of the clock. The last throw of the dice by Rafa was the throwing of the youthful Nabil El Zhar. The latter had a couple of bursts into their defence that his energy seems to afford him to but ultimately his nine minutes on the pitch could not forget us the previous eighty-one.

Liverpool have failed a banker, and as Murphy trotted out the pitch with his head held respectably high, the consolation of the day was the respectable position that Liverpool kept, the same respect an ex-Liverpool player who treats the red shirt with dignity will ever get on a return to Anfield.

2008-11-15T20:29:00.002+01:00

Back to normality it is. And it doesn’t have the usual association with the average and mean. After last Wednesday’s upset, Liverpool got back into winning ways, acquiring the customary three points and the top of the table spot albeit the latter for just a few hours. Thirteen matches so far, and this is the tenth win. A win is now the normality. Natural and habitual as much as the Torres bounce in the away end. And it has the same ring to it as much as the bounce. In our ears at least.

Liverpool started on top gear immediately. This Bolton side is miles away from the one managed by Sam Allardyce. It is still ugly but seems to have only inherited Allardyce’s chewing habit rather than the bite it was once apprehended for. Liverpool just sprayed the ball around with intelligence and aplomb, as you’d expect from a side that has a certain Xabi Alonso in its midfield. Sometimes I wonder how much the whole Barry saga in summer was of a huge let-off, a blessing in disguise, a disregard of what we’ve had in our ranks or all three of them together. Albert Riera on the left made himself available, received the ball routinely and perforated their back-four regularly. On the other flank, Dirk Kuyt did just the same, only though with the intensity and assiduousness of the rest of his team-mates. I’d hate to be one of his boot studs as am sure I wouldn’t last more than one game. He was just everywhere, and at the time his hard work is not impeding him from finding the back of the net. He was unlucky at first, when a venomous shot of his hit the crossbar, but then justice was made as he finished off a something like twenty pass move by hitting the back of the net. After the whole side knocked the ball around, Riera seemed to decide to get all direct, but his cross was blocked. Fabio Aurelio was there to pick the pieces and curled in a cross into the penalty area and Kuyt produced a header that gave Jaaskelainen as much chance as you’ve got of spotting a ghost on the foggiest of days. One nil, and it was now time to just wrap the match up.

The same Kuyt seemed to have continued the flow as he presented Robbie Keane with the easiest of chances but it seems the grass got into the way and the ball and chance went away begging. Gary Megson was already probably begging the question of how to get his lads into it during the half-time. Shortly afterwards, he probably got it with the disallowed Taylor goal. Bolton’s first corner sailed dangerously into the Liverpool area and with Pepe Reina impeded Taylor had an open goal to head to. Referee Rob Styles punished the infringement and the one nil score-line stood still. It gave enough ammunition though to Megson to rally his lads and it showed as Bolton came out pressing Liverpool, and the normality of it all, made us doubt if we will be paying heavily for the missed chances beforehand. As the clock winded down, Bolton lowered down their tone and Liverpool superseded the resonance. It was Gerrard’s turn this time not to connect properly with a gaping goal, but shortly afterwards he atoned. Having this time Torres crossing in for him he just reminded us about his telepathic rhythm with the bouncing one.

It is another normality that we can get used to that has been so far mostly sacrificed due to Torres’s hamstring. It is a normality that knows no routine though.

2008-11-13T18:33:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I just felt different. Before the match, I promised myself to stay at home, watch the reds on my own for a change. A bit like promising your bird to go out together, just you and her without joining up with your other mates. On an ordinary night though, rather than on the awaited Saturday night. I have treated League Cup matches like that in the past, and it makes a bit for a change. Facing Tottenham in their own White Hart Lane at this time, is probably the most impractical of times, but I thought, believed or hoped that such adversity in the situation will get the best out of the side that Benitez will opt for this secondary competition. It might be hypocritical for me to call the League Cup secondary, as I remember being over the moon, seeing the reds beating Birmingham to win the same cup seven years ago. Equally made up when Gerard Houllier did it for the second time in 2004, this time over the Mancs. And equally gutted when in Benitez’s first cup final, Chelsea overturned Riise’s scorching opener and Nunez’s goal was too late to salvage the game. Still, if the league is our bread and butter, this is surely our porridge. Still contrary to when Liverpool won it four successive times, at a time when the bread and butter was being put on the table with the same consistency of a family who owned a bakery, our guts nowadays seems not prepared to take more than one plate each dinner.

Some might argue that yesterday exposed the real lack of depth in the squad. One valid point there, but what really irked me yesterday, was players that Liverpool have paid relatively big money for them looking rather inept. Andrei Dossena looked as much of an Italian defender as much as a Camorrista is likely to be found appreciative of justice and the common good. Lucas Leiva, who admittedly has looked the part more than once when asked to deputize in the Liverpool midfielder, looked as Brazilian as an Argentinean dancing out of tune the Samba. Sami Hyypia who’s been there for ten years, doing it all before and with nothing to prove was the most respectable performer and put them to shame. The difference was palpable. These are lads who are yet to win anything, and still on a night like yesterday were like rabbits in the headlights when they should have been grabbing all the limelight of the same headlights.

I just can’t wait for Saturday. Back to the league. Back to normality.

2008-11-09T16:10:00.000+01:00

Whilst Liverpool got out of jail in their last outing against Atletico Madrid last Tuesday, yesterday the reds were out the door before the jury had even time to start. Liverpool’s claim for three points was effectively done and dusted in the first forty-five minutes. And the claim was signed by no-one less than Robbie Keane, for the first time in the league in a red shirt.

The recipient of a delightful through pass by his captain, Keane lost his marker and found himself facing Scott Carson. With no time to think, he let his instincts rule and just chipped the ball into an empty net with the ease and mechanism of a well oiled spring. It’s just what he needed and he just let it happen for him. Till then Liverpool were never in any real danger, but they were only inconspicuously showing their real mettle. They were letting West Bromwich Albion passing the ball around and rather than really pressing them into their own penalty area they were just knocking on their door occasionally. They were probably camouflaging a trap-door on their play. Keane doubled his league tally and the game’s score when from a swift counter attack he met Fabio Aurelio’s diagonal pass, and with the confidence of hitting the net a mere nine minutes before he rounded the advancing keeper and just deposited the ball into the net. In his own words, his monkey was off his back and he was now just coolly climbing trees and picking fruit.

The second forty-five minutes were pretty much a non-event. Liverpool just controlled and the clean sheet was never even in question of getting blotted. Ryan Babbel came in for Albert Riera for his usual run around along the line. Riera had a rather strange game, and it seems there is rather a pattern in all this. While excelling against the bigger sides, working really hard while deftly goes past his full-back and generally makes things happens, he seems to be finding it harder and having his work cut when facing such inferior sides who are there for the taking. The scorer then made way to Anfield’s current favourite son Fernando Torres, allowing the former a standing ovation and the latter to warm down and grind down the slight rust he could have put on in these past weeks spent on the sidelines. The rested Xabi Alonso finally went in for the captain with ten minutes to go.

The injury time allowed by the referee turned out to be a little bit more than a formality as Alvaro Arbeloa more than made up for his unjust booking earlier on. Overlapping on the right flank, Dirk Kuyt’s pass found him with time and space to just curl the ball into the top corner, allowing his team-mates to congratulate him rather than the other way round.

Liverpool acquired the three points and an injection of confidence in their second striker.

2008-11-05T18:37:00.003+01:00

He was a bit like the taxman, taxing Liverpool for many a fifty-fifty tackle and turning a blind eye when balls were being patted in the penalty area. Liverpool were feeling rather aggrieved and the taxman was getting some serious stick. As much as an economy can’t do without taxes, football can’t do without referees. At the very end though, as if an election is looming round the corner he opted for a freebie to Liverpool and looked like getting on a podium to declare rather than a tax-break, a penalty for Liverpool after Steven Gerrard looked to collide with one of their defenders in the penalty area. And the stage was all set for the captain to salvage a draw as he bombed the ball with accuracy, venom and power. He is looking well confident on the penalty spots, he well is. While Liverpool’s penalty shoot-out success has always been second to none, there were times when the award of a penalty during the match was a means to test your heart-rate further. But now Gerrard seems to have acquired another side to his game, and is making Danny Murphy looking rather ordinary in executing penalties, especially at critical times like yesterday.

As expected, Liverpool looked to have started the better side, the highlight of the early minutes of the match being a delightful and accurate pass from Xabi Alonso who from just outside his penalty area he pinpointed Robbie Keane at the other end of the pitch. Keane did well to chest the ball and take on hi marker but rather than the inside he hit the outside of the net. If anything though, it confirmed the rich vein of form the Basque is going through, as he changed defence into attack in a split second and showed his superlative vision of the game. Alonso is one intelligent student of the game, and apart from that he has the feet to support it. He just compromises thought and action with an air of grace and naturality.

The early promise started to fizzle out though and Atletico Madrid took the lead, seven minutes from time of the first forty-five minutes. The reaction was rather muffled but the start of the second half showed an improvement. Gerrard looked to try to inspire the rest of the lads but was getting frustrated and sometimes his touches were rather letting him down and Atletico looked threatening every now and then, while organizing them well to defend their lead.

Keane got substituted by David N’Gog. It might have looked rather bizarre but remembering that in last year’s Merseyside derby at Goodison Park with the score level Gerrard was subbed on by Lucas Leiva, it doesn’t look as strange. Deep down though, Rafa might be really losing some of his faith that made him splash out nineteen million Sterling for the same player a few months ago. Keane looked a safe bet to spend money on, a proven goal scoring record and an old head of the surroundings but at the moment it looks like the bookmaker has been smarter than the odds suggested.

Whilst it could be argued they got out of jail, Liverpool arrested a what could be a decline of their morale. With W.B.A. at home next Saturday, it is now time to take no prisoners and just cruise towards a comfortable three points.

2008-11-02T18:07:00.002+01:00

I have conducted the following interview with James McKenna, one of the volunteer members of the Spirit of Shankly group. The following transcript has been published originally on the publication Anfield Island which is Malta's Liverpool Supporters Club magazine.

Liverpool F.C. has been the first club to win eighteen English titles. The first British club to retain the European Cup. Subsequently, the first British club to keep the European Cup for good. Now it is the first club to have its own union. Hardly comparing like with like, or a cause for big celebration but a desperate situation calls for desperate measures. It is a known fact that Liverpool has some of the most caring and passionate fans and this union is another testament of that. Originally formed as ‘Sons of Shankly’, it is now officially known as ‘Spirit of Shankly’.

The first meeting was held in The Sandon pub, the pub which was originally owned by no-one less than Sir John Houlding, the founder of Liverpool F.C. and the same person that kicked Everton F.C. out of Anfield. Some 350 Liverpool fans attended for the first meeting, with the main constant aim among others set ‘to represent the best interests of supporters of Liverpool F.C.’ Since then, the Union as it is most commonly known in Liverpool has been known to organize travel for away matches, both in England and Europe, organized a march in protest at the present owners as well as held two very important meetings, with George Gillett and the manager Rafael Benìtez.

I have conducted the following interview with James McKenna, one of the volunteer acting committee member.

First things first, officially is it 'Sons of Shankly' or 'Spirit of Shankly'? What made you change the name?

The official name is Spirit Of Shankly, Liverpool Supporters' Union. Most people refer to us simply as Spirit Of Shankly, SOS, or the Union.

We were intially called Sons Of Shankly. The name was decided upon at the first meeting in The Sandon on 31st January 2008. It was off the cuff and suited us perfectly. However there are just as many passionate female Liverpool fans as well male. So we decided to broaden the name to cover all those involved. Also the name Spirit Of Shankly is more apt. We are trying to keep the same spirit going that Bill Shankly brought to this club. Thats why we are named after the great man.

I remember we all basically embraced the idea of having Gillett and Hicks as the 'new custodians', and they were greeted warmly at games, some even stopping to have pictures with all that. In other words they had the red carpet treatment. When did you first see the first cracks?

Plenty of Liverpool fans did welcome Hicks and Gillett with open arms, and with hindsight, we were naive. However we had seen our club fall behind Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal, and we wanted to remain competitive. We wanted to be back up there challenging for League titles, and winning trophies. The previous owner, David Moores, had admitted he couldn't compete financially. Tom Hicks and George Gillett won the battle ahead of DIC to own the club, and fans were taken in by their charm offensive and promises - which they have now broken.

The cracks or signs, had been there for us to see, since the 2007 European Cup Final. They day after losing, the manager came out and criticised the way transfers were dealt with, about the support he was getting. It was a sign that all was not well behind the scenes, but fans weren't quite sure what was going on. If we fast forward to the autumn of 2007, the cracks were beginning to widen. There was the infamous Benitez press conference in which he kept repeating the same answer to every question, that he would be concentrating on coaching and supporting his players. The next day at Newcastle he wore a tracksuit rather than his usual suit. This was a public display by the manager that things were not going well behind the scenes. Fans were alarmed and began to ask questions. Fan group Reclaim The Kop (RTK) then organised a march in support of the manager prior to the European Cup game against Porto. This was after receiving information from reliable sources that the manager was about to be sacked by Tom Hicks and George Gillett. Fans stood and marched for the manager and helped to keep him in the job.

From then on, fans were growing increasingly sceptical about the American owners. We found out they had spoken to Jurgen Klinsmann behind the managers back, the stadium was not forthcoming , Gillett had famously said at the takeover that a spade would be in the ground in 60 days, and then we received the final kick in the teeth - The debt Tom Hicks and George Gillett used to purchase the club was to be put on Liverpool Football Club. This was the final nail in the coffin - Fans had to stand up and fight back. A meeting was arranged for fans to attend in The Sandon on 31st January 2008. The Liverpool Supporters' Union was formed. And then fast forward 7 and bit months, and here we are today.

According to your website, the immediate aim of the S.O.S. is getting rid the club of the aforementioned. Don't you feel you are starting with a 'too big' aim?

Tom Hicks and George Gillett are the main reason that the Liverpool Supporters' Union, Spirit Of Shankly, were formed. They were the tipping point that made fans think and say "I've had enough. It's time to stand up for myself, other fans, and fight back, to have a say". It is a big task - but one that we must achieve if we want Liverpool Football Club to move forward. Hicks and Gillett have done too damage to this football club in their period in charge to allow them to stay. The stadium fiasco of will it or won't it happen (I don't think anyone knows the definite answer but it is looking increasingly unlikely under the American ownership, especially since the banks said no to a loan for building it). There has been the shocking treatment of the manager. Speaking to Jurgen Klinsmann behind his back, and vetoing the signing of Gareth Barry because of the price tag - This is not a decision for them. They should back the managers judgement. I don't think Liverpool fans would have a bad word to say about Benitez if he had walked out over it all, but he hasn't because of his and his family's love for this city, the club, and the fans. Finally there was the debt being put on the club, despite saying they would never do this.
It might be a long, uphill struggle to rid the club of Hicks and Gillett. But it is one that we will achieve.

How do you see yourselves achieving that?

There are a number of methods being used for this, which all relate to creating negative publicity for the owners, and showing them, the watching world and more importantly the banks the finance them, that we are unhappy (to put it mildly) and we want them out of the football club.
The primary plan of action was to protest against the owners. These have took a variety of forms. More detail can be found on the site at http://www.spiritofshankly.com/protests.html.
The actions we have taken have included protest marches, with our largest one to date having taken place prior to the Manchester United game on Saturday 13th September, when nearly 4,000 fans marched up to Anfield chanting "Yanks Out" and "get out of our club". There have also been protests during the game, at half time, and at full time, as well as out the Director Entrance. We have mocked the American owners, with a dig, with SOS finally putting a spade in the ground in Stanley Park, 440 days after Gillett first promised it, and we have "repossesed" the ground, highlighting the problems the massive debt the Americans have put on the cluband the potential problems it can cause.
More recently, we have looked at targetting those who finance Hicks and Gillett, the banks. Royal Bank of Scotland, which is the main financer, are to be targetted over a period of time, to encourage them not to allow Hicks and Gillett an extension to the present refinancing deal.

Have you met any particular signs of encouragement?

In terms of encouragement for what we are doing, alot of Liverpool fans want the American owners out and support the action taken to try and rid the club of Hicks and Gillett. Encouragingly, in terms of can we achieve our aim, the world's media has taken an active interest in what we are tring to do. Meetings were also requested by representatives of Dubai, led my Amanda Staveley, Chief Executive of LFC Rick Parry, and more recently George Gillett. We have had meetings with all these and have made our stance, on what we aim to achieve, very clear to them. We must be doing something right if they want to meet with us. We have also spoke with accountants and finance experts from Wall St who tell us that the Global Economic Climate is affecting them, so all we have to do is increase the pressure.

How much you believe you are on the right track to achieve your first aim?

I believe we are on track to achieving our first aim. It was seen more recently, with the failure to start work on the new stadium, that the present economic climate is affectting the Americans. When the current debt on the football club comes up for re-financing in January 2009, the negative publicity surrounding the Americans should surely lead the banks to refuse. The American owners will have no alternative but to sell. Hopefully it can be resolved before then. If we keep up the pressure on the Americans, and the pressure on the banks who are financially supporting them, then they will have no alternative but to listen. Which is why I encourage more people to join Spirit Of Shankly. Once the Americans are removed, we can concentrate on making things better for all fans. What we are trying to achieve can be found here http://www.spiritofshankly.com/index.html. If anyone wishes to join they can do so online or by post http://www.spiritofshankly.com/join.html.

If we all stand together, we can win. We can finally have our views and our opinions listened to, about the problems and concerns that us fans have. And then, Liverpool Football Club will truly be OUR club. All of ours!

2008-11-02T09:02:00.001+01:00

It rained and rained. Continuously, without pause and prolifically. The final whistle though left us feeling burnt rather than soaked. It was one of those unfathomable feelings that you can’t explain. But that wasn’t the only anomaly of the day.

The tie presented the top side travelling to the bottom placed side and as we said a couple of days earlier the table never lies. It can be a bit detached from reality though. As much as a result is the all black on white verdict of the match, the deliberation can be far from unanimous. These were two sides that were riding high on confidence, Liverpool fresh from their Stamford Bridge exploits while Tottenham still riding high from their first victory and a smash and grab draw against their better off neighbours Arsenal. Coupled with that, they have acquired a new manager that they are keen to impress. It shows you all want to know, whether this particular set of players play for the shirt and the fans in the stands or merely their boss in the dugout.

A mere three minutes after kick-off Liverpool started in the most perfect way imaginable. Winning a throw-in while attacking the Spurs end Alvaro Arbeloa played Robbie Keane in who in return played Dirk Kuyt in expecting him to return the favour. But from a rather angled position the Dutchman sacrificed his altruism side in him and just let fly to give Liverpool the lead, confirming his rich form at the moment and making us forget that a certain Fernando Torres is not even on the bench. It was the springboard set for Liverpool to dictate matters and control the match and result. And in the ensuing half, Liverpool did just that, controlling the whole area with authority and occasionally knocking on their door to remind them of who they are.

And in the start of the second half, Liverpool even upped their tempo and left the Spurs at sixes and sevens. They took full advantage of the pouring rain and the slick pitch as they passed from one to another with aplomb and got to the opposition’s rearguard with remarkable creativity. The woodwork though was a much harder nut to crack than the Spurs back four and keeper, and it repelled back Steven Gerrard twice. Firstly he went with power and then a teasing lob still didn’t do the trick.

On the other side of the pitch, a teasing corner just did the trick as an unfortunate header by the solid Jamie Carragher ended up beyond Reina. Sometimes a rock repels wave after wave but circumstances leave it weak on its knees after a bout of sand thrown in its direction. With the last of the quarter of the match remaining, the reds rather found themselves in a dilemma as to whether fight back to get what is rightfully theirs or accept the cruel situation. With the fourth official signaling four minutes of added time, and Reina diving brilliantly to push Bentley’s drive adroit as much as possible there was still time for another twist as a lurking Bent played Pavlyuchenko in to tap home.

The lad from the KGB country let us taste a bit of our own medicine. It is a reminder of how long a season can be and how simple episodes can turn the course of a season. Liverpool have overturned the tide during the ninety minutes four times this season so far. It is now time not to overturn but to merely get back in track.

2008-10-30T22:30:00.002+01:00

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.

2008-10-27T18:46:00.000+01:00

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.

2008-10-23T22:31:00.002+02:00

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.

2008-10-19T19:06:00.001+02:00

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.

2008-10-06T22:35:00.001+02:00

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.

2008-10-02T23:35:00.001+02:00

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.

2008-09-28T10:39:00.000+02:00

It’s known as the most volatile tie in the Premiership. But rather than volatility we have seen the eruption of one Fernando Torres, who in the space of three minutes beat his adversary Tim Howard twice with aplomb and a doze of clinical precision. Volatility was brewing up in the first forty-five minutes as the usually cool Torres looked to be frustrated, as the toll of six barren matches on the run seemed to burden his shoulders, questioning most of the ref’s decisions and getting into his book rather than his score-sheet. But this was a different Torres from the one against Stoke. His rust seemed to have been corroded and his touch was different, more natural to the ball, taking on players as always, this time with the added bonus of getting also past them. And rust transcended into slickness, and the net renewed its acquaintance with his shots.

Torres wasn’t the only visibly frustrated red in the first forty-five minutes. But in a day like this, where pride and bragging rights are at stake, and throw-in decisions are vehemently questioned by the under class of Merseyside, it is only expected. The reds were still able to control albeit not dominate the proceedings. Their control, composure and possession superiority took their time to properly penetrate the Everton defense. And it wasn’t muscle which did the eventual trick, but brains and vision. Robbie Keane might be lacking confidence as he still is waiting for breaking his duck but his sublime cross after another intelligent through ball by Xabi Alonso put Torres on a high-chair from where to volley home, and Liverpool on a platform that was needed to confirm Liverpool’s superiority and give the till then abstract advantage a concrete value.

And now after six matches, Liverpool have the concrete tally of fourteen points, two more than this time last year. In such six matches, the reds have won two of the biggest matches the Premiership can offer. It is still obviously still too early to draw any conclusions, but perfect endings have had far worse starts than this. Keane might have put Liverpool on a platform in one particular moment, but I believe this whole start could act as a springboard for the reds to the next few matches, that are all part of the whole season. We have so far confirmed what we already know. The basics are there. Starting from defense, in six matches, Liverpool have kept four clean sheets and letting only two in the remaining two. And Torres has once again confirmed the undoubtable. But sometimes even the converted need preaching.

2008-09-21T17:06:00.002+02:00

It was as one sided an affair as a monologue. The monologue though lacked any conviction of a great orator and the speech only rebounded off the walls of the room and never got past it. And throats got sore, lozenges got available in the shape of corners but it was it was like presenting water to a goldfish in an over flown bowl. Twenty of them and hardly one proper treat to break the deadlock off anyone of them. Probably Liverpool did more corners in this match than they did in a whole week at Melwood, if their execution is anything to go by.

Widening a bit the argument though, Steven Gerrard did execute a perfect set-piece as early as the second minute when he curled a beautiful shot in, metres away from the corner flag. But the referee seemed to have taken pity of Stoke and just disallowed the goal apparently for offside. It was a costly mistake as that most important and hard first goal to get was unjustly disallowed. It didn’t seem to bother the reds much then as with eighty-minutes left there was more than ample time to replicate the trick. It just didn’t happen though and two points were lost forever.

The aplomb I was hoping and believing to get in Liverpool’s play never really materialized. The determination was always there but Stoke were equally as determined and defended in double digits. The class of Fernando Torres never shone through, and at the moment the bounce of last year is more of a knee bend. I am not getting too worried about it though. Torres had one busy summer and his latest injury can’t have helped things. He tried to burst through every now and then but that fractional advantage he used to get over his defenders to open up his route to goal has so far alluded him. It is only a matter of time though for the lad to get back to his usual self. Next to him though the situation is getting a bit more worrying as Robbie Keane is still looking for his first goal. He got close at one time yesterday but the breakthrough he probably prays for every single second of the day is still unsighted. With Crewe coming up next Tuesday, it might be the best opportunity for Rafael Benitez to play him and ask the other chosen ten to just simply try to pass the ball to Keane even when through on goal with latter having his back to goal.

It is maybe now ideal for Liverpool to face Everton next in the league when it is determination rather than panache that usually win derbies. A bit of sleekness will still won’t hurt any chances of getting three points at the soon defunct Goodison Park.

2008-09-17T22:52:00.001+02:00

It was just M&M’s. And it wasn’t just the chocolate candy. Now we’ve got the Three M’s. Middlesborough, Manchester United and Marseille. All starting with a goal advantage against the reds, only to have it cancelled and eventually overturned. Three in space of three and a half weeks. I don’t think it’s a mere fluke. Talking in three’s, it’s resilience, buoyancy and finally springiness. Not too bad for a side and a manager who some claim lack a Plan B. But yesterday was there the need for a Plan B?

Just as Liverpool conceded, a mate next to me told me he’s not too panicked. I just nodded my agreement. Liverpool kicked off from the middle again. No need for reshuffling, nor big urges from the boss and so on. There were eleven players who were thought the best for the occasion and the goal conceded was just a shot that hit a soldier but never got close to his beating heart. And a mere eight minutes later, the equalizer was secured. Last Saturday, the reds got a magnificent result without the presence of the two main stars of the side – Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres. The sheer hard work, team work and depth in the squad made up for the unfortunate loss of both. There was talk that maybe the absence of the two maybe proved providential for Liverpool, as the reds expanded their game more between the eleven rather than narrowing themselves just through these two. Yesterday though was a reminder that along with the hard work, the inspiration such rare ones are capable to provide is a marvel and that their absence last Saturday was only a handicap that Liverpool got through by their adaptability. It was Gerrard’s turn yesterday. Firstly Torres wins the ball in the midfield, advances, passes to Kuyt who in return passes back to his captain. And from outside the penalty area, with a shot seemingly used earlier in a geometry experiment, the captain celebrated and justified the earlier accolade of Liverpool’s best player in Europe voted by the local people for the local paper, The Liverpool Echo.

And then minutes later, from the artistry of that shot, this time he crafted another one from eleven metres, not once but twice. The sound mentality of the captain shone through as he was ordered to re-take the successful penalty kick. He just repeated the same shot to his right with their keeper again diving at the other end. It was Ryan Babbel who won the kick when his change of speed and wicked foot movement committed the Marseilliase defender to bring him down. Earlier on, a lovely turn enabled him to lose his marker but his vociferous shot ended up high above the woodwork. The rapper lookalike seemed on a mission to lose the tag of a super-sub as he proved more than handful to their defence. A brilliant block by their keeper in the dying minutes denied him from his second goal of the season but his performance overall can’t have done his esteem with Rafa any harm.

The second forty-five minutes weren’t the best ever offered by Liverpool. The one goal advantage was threatened every now and then, but eventually the reds went through it. In the green shirt, with no commercial logo, Reina’s chest and presence looked even bigger than usual, as he marshaled his defense superbly, and at the very dying minutes blocked superbly to secure a perfect start on this other European adventure.

The resilience of this Liverpool side has been there for all to see. Stoke at Anfield, might ask for another quality, which after having built such a basis, it is now opportune to enforce further the springiness and free flow more into the creative qualities of this side to get the three points in a different manner. Aplomb can be now coupled with determination.

2008-09-14T08:20:00.000+02:00

I used to dream of a team of Carraghers. With the cloning science still in its infancy, the dream faded off like the many other childhood dreams. Yesterday though it came as close as possible, as I saw ten red shirted men doing their utmost to emulate their captain for the day. Aptitude and commitment were in excess yesterday afternoon. Coupled with belief and we got the result that we have craved for so long. The usual insecurity that creeps in players minds and fans alike when we meet these bitter and detestable rivals was nowhere to be seen even though the circumstances seemed to contrive for such symptom to ascend in every red’s mind.

Going down as early as the third minute I was fearing the worst. And that horrible sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach, so abundant in the last confrontation against them last March came back with a vengeance and reminded me of what such a fixture can offer. Gradually though the feeling subsided as the reds got into the match with glimpses of their goal and openings being found at the other end of the pitch. Their much vaunted midfield was finding the going tough as the midfield duo of Javier Mascherano and Xabi Alonso started to exert their influence, ably helped on the sides by both Yossi Benayoun and the debutant Albert Riera. The last time we had a debutant in such fixture, it all ended in frustration, and was in hindsight a sign of things to come as Fernando Morientes struggled, in a match that was lost to a calamitous error at the back. Riera looked nippy, making himself available, eager to take on players and showed quite a few touches that made us that tad more unpredictable on that side of the pitch. The ovation he got when Rafa decided that he did enough for the day was a testament to all this.

And the lad getting on for him didn’t disappoint either. Ryan Babel joined the four sides of the ground as he applauded the Spaniard off while on the line waiting for him. The applause though transcended to sheer euphoria as a mere six minutes later the same Dutchman received the ball from the bye-line through his compatriot and with the coolness of a stoned punter in an Amsterdam coffee shop, he volleyed home.

And that was it for the day. The 2-1 score-line was kept till the very end and the hoodoo of not even scoring against them in our own home was exorcised. Now, with ten points from four games, Liverpool have the best springboard imaginable for the next month to continue building day after day, match after match. Marseille at the Stade Vèlodrome beckons but for the time being the Stoke match is lingering through my mind more persistently. It seems the bread and butter is at the moment more appetizing than the caviar that is European football. Talking about caviar and food, the magnitude of this victory goes up a few notches as Rafa had to bake a formation without his usual two main ingredients that sometimes he is accused of using to simply get him out of jail.

Fernando Torres was only a spectator, albeit from the bench rather than in the Main Stand, whilst Steven Gerrard got in only midway in the second forty-five minutes. The other ingredients though were enough to leave a taste that is as sweet as bee honey exerted from the same bee which stung you earlier on.

2008-09-01T19:24:00.001+02:00

The unbeaten start to the season has gone on, the winning start though did stumble at the hurdle represented by Aston Villa in their home ground. It was a case of déjà vu, with the most single episode that summed up Liverpool’s match yesterday being Robbie Keane’s missed chance. With the £18 million tag dangling heavily round his neck, Keane raced on a perfect through ball, but he must have got caught between two minds, ending up slicing the ball horribly wrongly when another more confident striker would have just kept his head down, ignoring that obviously some defenders would be on the case and just tried to get on target. Keane almost distrusted his ability and was giving too much importance to his surroundings when an open goal was at his mercy. And Rafael Benitez in a way has gone the same way too if the substitutions were anything to go by. The forced Torres substitution aside, Rafa put on Aurelio for Kuyt and Benayoun for Keane. Rafa looked happy enough to get a point away from home when Chelsea has also drawn earlier on the day. Babbel was left kicking his heels twice, first when he could have got the chance to play in his favoured striking position instead of the injured Torres and then when Aurelio got the nod ahead of him.

On a more positive note, the defence was again on top of everything thrown at their direction. The partnership between Carragher and Skrtel seems to be blossoming, but that is hardly surprising. Carragher has been able to play with anyone, his single mindedness and enthusiasm for the shirt makes him untouchable. And behind him Reina, amongst other saves, made one very good one over Carew in the first half that could have left the reds chasing the game. Reina’s alertness makes a severe customs official look amiable.

For a change the international break hasn’t come at the worst time possible. It is time to stock up the facts and for Rafa to over analyse the goings on of these three Premiership matches and the Champions League asides. The seven points amassed have been the icing on a rather average cake. The cake has only been on the shop window so far though, and real questions have not been asked. The next match though presents a customer that can be ruthless and is detestable in his own nature.

2008-08-28T22:26:00.001+02:00

That was a different type of a European night at Anfield. This was no pole vault springing the name of Liverpool FC to unprecedented heights, and as the bar gets raised higher and higher, the higher the decibels of the Anfield roar springing the reds as much as the pole vault itself. And below the bar there was no cushion aired with pride to soften the blow of the fall that after all was more than we expected to be. This was a mere race for the thing. There were no odds to fight off. Liverpool were the odds-on favourites themselves.

At the end the pole vault got grabbed and a place in the Champions League group stages was assured. The usual guarantee of these last few years under Rafa’s reign looked hollow as a Gillett or Hick’s promise. It was apt though for such guarantee to be renewed by someone who promises you hard work and never lets you down even though sometimes his own touch does let him down. But when the odds were stacked against and the fear of failure was burning Anfield’s green grass brown he kept on grafting and broke a deadlock nearing closely to 3 ½ hours. Take a bow Dirk Kuyt. In such circumstances he was not exactly the hero but the resolute soldier who probably time will forget.

It all started from the back before though. Pepe Reina made sure the tie was kept in the balance and the adventure of Standard Liege was kept up to certain restrictions with no serious after-effects and never achieving legendary status on the Belgian shores. His alertness was impeccable as much as his agility, as twice he pulled out two great saves. This is definitely his best ever start to a season, he seems to be carrying the euphoria of Spain’s European triumph and after tasting success albeit from a dugout, he wants more and more of it now. The penalty save in Liege was no flash in the pan.

And the fourth match of the season is now over. Number five beckons on Sunday. Liverpool have got out of them what any red would have asked for, qualification and a six point start. It is not the destination but the journey that we are now debating. It is still well early and matches like yesterday leave you with more questions than answers. A probable fired up Villa side by a certain Mr O’Neill though should be the perfect tonic to continue Liverpool’s nailed on resilience. The fancy and sexy can wait for now.

2008-08-24T22:24:00.001+02:00

Yesterday’s match and performance would have made a good presentation and interpretation of the word ‘overturn’. And while the definition and result is definite, it leaves the main door wide open for discussion, whose merits only time and the table will prove right or wrong.
A dodgy start at the opening day of the season at Anfield was overturned to a dogged one, where determination coupled with skill triumphed over what looked so far an inept and lame display even though its start has promised good things, as some interplay between the forwards was making the green grass of Anfield look lush and slick, with such promises though fading out by the minute and every misplaced corner kick, finally looking to have been buried by Mido’s shot that found the back of the net with aplomb.

But what wasn’t done in fourteen corners and eighty-five minutes, was done in ten minutes. It all started by Jamie Carragher improvising a situation and avoiding the embarrassment of another wasted set-piece. As some Boro defender handled the ball, Carra did not wait for Mark Riley’s whistle. He just pounced on the loose ball and with the single mindedness of an escaped prisoner lashed out a shot towards goal. It only hit some body in the penalty area but the momentum of Carra’s strike fuelled by his determination wrong footed the keeper and ended up in the net. The escaped prisoner was not content with just getting some fresh air, he managed to get into some safe haven that three points preclude for the time being at least. And that was through the captain Steven Gerrrad, who like the rest of his team mates was rather off colour so far. But cometh the moment and opportunity, Liverpool’s number eight curled the ball with calmness and audacity that defied the desperation and urgency of the situation.

Liverpool did get out of jail. Again you might argue. My dilemma is whether in the coming matches Liverpool will be paying time on such escapes. Else, such doggedness is the prelude of things to come, and which is liberating the whole team from past mental shackles that the last step to the podium is too still to climb. Luck, skill and bravery have never been mutually exclusive either.

2008-08-17T22:26:00.003+02:00

The opening day of the league campaign was now with us. And it was rather annoying that the kick-off was to be prolonged by a couple of hours. There were no questions or second thoughts like last Wednesday though. This is a big day, and the wait is finally over. And looking around me with fellow minded reds, you could feel the glint in most eyes. An hour or so later, and the glint was replaced by a couple of frowns. The proceedings were definitely not matching the anticipation, and it felt eerily like the Wednesday before.

There was a lack of fire, that was either yet to be ignited or else was too meek, being comfortably controlled by the red and white stripes of Sunderland. The absence of Javier Mascherano in particular was being sorely felt as the midfield battle was evenly balanced. The debuting Robbie Keane was epitomizing the game’s state of affairs from Liverpool’s point of view. Eager to shine, at times over trying, but nothing getting his way, contrarily it was him that got in the way of the season opener. Robbie Keane could be exonerated but a loss of two points would have turned the frowns into scowls, as unlike last Wednesday yesterday had no chance to be averted in a fortnight’s time with a return leg at Anfield. The two points would have been lost forever.

Fernando Torres did not need no return legs, nor whole matches to avert the situation. He needed a decent pass, a ball at his feet and just the sight of goal. He was the inflammable that Liverpool’s yet weak kick start needed. The whole difference between a glare and a smile on a lot of people’s faces. He is head and shoulders, aided by pencil heels above the others. Late it was, but Torres ingenuity has no time, and has now passed the test of time. Quiet he was in the earlier proceedings, but at the end he did not just what was needed, but what a genius must.

It is hard not to be carried away by Torres, but after a whole season proving himself, we are justified to place him in the highest echelons. His superiority and ingenuity last year was not enough in the grander scheme of things. In the rather quite summer though, Benitez made sure to complement his main striker. The partnership is yet to ignite but till it does we are safe to think that in this case such partnership can also work in a singular mode.

2008-08-14T22:31:00.000+02:00

Three months from the last proper football match with only pre-season matches in between, which only succeeded in one thing: whetting more the appetite. Pre-season matches are just what they are, a work out, where the tension, pride and drama are nowhere near. You just watch through curiosity and through some sense of duty that you feel you owe to the men in red. And so at last the official start of the season was with us. And still it didn’t feel like the real thing. Seemed all I could think of was the 16th August, and the start of the Premiership. These past few seasons this preliminary round felt more like a glorified pre-season friendly. And I felt in the same mood yesterday. And the sight of the turquoise kit did nothing to alleviate the mood.

Still the colour of the kit probably could define the night perfectly. A mixture of an impish performance but that was at least offset by a decent result, which has far from quelled the excitement for the big kick-off come next Saturday. As even though the mood wasn’t at its best, when Standard Liege hit the post, and shortly afterwards they were awarded a penalty it reminded me that while feeling casual, it can have serious consequences. Pepe Reina was one of the very few who rose to the occasion. He has had probably the best summer of his life, earning a European Championship medal and becoming a father. Maybe the tidy performances of Diego Cavalieri and a whole tournament being an understudy to Iker Casillas spurred him on to be at his best and the centre of attention which judging by the footage of the Spanish celebrations, is where he feels most comfortable at. He had something the rest of his team mates seemed to be lacking yesterday – alertness, which was probably the main factor in his penalty save, and subsequently the acceptable result. Most of the remaining ten were lackadaisical and unfocused.

Hopefully all this has nothing to do with the boardroom battle going on about the Barry saga, where once again the authority and judgement of Rafael Benitez has been undermined. Hopefully, it’s just me being paranoid, and come next Saturday, all returns to normal, a weekly dose of local football, a fortnightly extra of European glamour, with football on the pitch being the only talking point. And all this in a red kit.

2008-05-13T21:00:00.000+02:00

I have heard of the book a couple of years back but for some unknown reason, I just never bothered to try to get it my hands on it. Then, I heard a couple of very good reviews and my disinterest turned into a prowl for this book. An unsuccessful one at that, as the book got sold out and was out of print. Lately though, the book got republished and I just put my order.

I found myself reading it in the hours preceding the second leg of the Chelsea semi-final at Stamford Bridge, and it proved to be the best time-killer I could ever have in the circumstances. One minute, I was idle, bored and biting my nails, the next minute I found myself engrossed in Tony Evans’s work. It was like looking through the family album, reminiscing some memories while waiting for a plane carrying people in the same album, you haven’t seen for a while to land.

The story of Istanbul is now popular, legendary and immortalized as much as the Lazarus resurrection. Thousand of stories have been told, hundreds of articles written, but still you never get tired of it. Having said that, this does not make justice to the work of Tony Evans.

Evans retold the story of that particular night in Istanbul, and used it as the main plot. Around it, he weaved tales from previous European Cup triumphs, the mind state of a Scouse football fan, the evolution of football from a working class sport to what is it now and his train trip from Liverpool’s Lime Street to Istanbul.

And he has weaved all this with a skill and artistry reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino, having a similar result to Pulp Fiction.

A copy can be obtained from here, where for every sale, £1 will be donated to the Hillsborough Justice Campaign.

2008-05-01T13:57:00.000+02:00

I was dreading this situation and position. The season is now over and there is nothing to look forward to. But it was different at the final whistle yesterday. It was a feeling of pain alright, but there was no feeling of emptiness. There is nothing more to look forward to but a night like yesterday exhausted us all and we have been fulfilled in a different way. I still envy every red who was there at Stamford Bridge witnessing it all. Where I was, could never be compared to it, but the feeling could not be too far. Reds standing next to each other, accepting that the journey is now over, it never got to the final destination but the journey still was an amazing one, imprinting in our minds stories to tell.

The first half was not the best way to start and Liverpool were understandably below par. Martin Skrtel got injured, but seeing Sami Hyypia coming in for him does not weaken Liverpool in any way. He’s been there, done it all and is still there. It is weird how today it is not such players who write and publish their biographies. The measurement of virtues have truly changed. And then Liverpool gradually muscled up and grew in stature . And paradoxically the nippy Yossi Benayoun ran diagonally and opened up the Chelsea defense. And he couldn’t hope to have a better recipient of his pass as Fernando Torres concluded all his good work beyond Peter Cech. The temptation and opportunity of finishing them off presented itself after that, and Rafa tried to fuel that by putting the fresh Jermaine Pennant in, but it was extra-time which had to settle everything.

Ryan Babbel found the net, again after being subbed in. He has definitely been the best substitute this season, now it is up to him to start make all the difference from the supposed more privileged situation of being in the first eleven. It threatened to bridge the gap in the result but eventually Moscow proved to be too far away from London for the reds.

From this European campaign the mystical name of Liverpool F.C. rose even higher and its pedigree got even more distinguished, as the consistency under Rafael Benitez in such environment was confirmed and stamped on. It has undone a lot of the stains that the two Americans have perpetuated in front of a sneering public.
The militant city of Liverpool is never too fond of its superiors. Managers aren’t too highly thought of. But the city of Liverpool is much more complex than that. Nothing goes by default. Rafa Benitez, the manager of the football club of the city, like most manager before him is an exception. He is loved and gave us reds a fantastic time on our favourite ride that is European football. While on the pitch, nothing is plain sailing with Liverpool F.C., and long may it continue, it is now time for stability in the corridor of powers of Anfield.

2008-04-27T21:09:00.001+02:00

Champions League football has now been confirmed for another year. It was a mere formality getting honoured, as the feeling of ‘I’d rather be somewhere else’ could be read on every player’s face. Ironically such a formality was only concluded the hard way, the latest Liverpool fashion as the reds found themselves two goals down five minutes before the hour mark.

The big match is now looming ever closer and it will definitely be the antithesis of last Saturday. From all its contrasts to be expected, a similar score-line will be more than enough and will let the dream roll on and this strange season going.

Nothing is impossible with Liverpool F.C.

2008-04-23T21:33:00.000+02:00

A solitary goal by Dirk Kuyt looked to have set the first tie, and earned Liverpool a slim but yet handy advantage that can be administered on their travels at Stamford Bridge in a week’s time. The solitary goal looked to have set the reds another European night to remember whereby the big progress of the side, since the first tie in rather similar circumstances back in 2005, was vivid.

It was another great team performance that oozed with hard work. Even though taking their time, to find properly their feet like they have done against Arsenal, once they did, they never looked back and controlled, at times veering on dominating the proceedings. The four minutes added time were not greeted by jeers and disbelief as like the six ones back in 2005. They were seen as an opportunity to consolidate and further the result. Fernando Torres shot almost vindicated such mentality, but one minute later, disaster struck. The basis of the work was still there, but the facelift got scratched by a still unfathomable own goal by the supposed fresh John Arne Riise. It was a mixture of bad luck, rashness and bad judgment whereby the defender used his head but not his brains.

The facelift has definitely been disfigured, and in dramatic circumstances but the basis has already been nailed on. Liverpool have twice overcome such opposition through sheer adrenaline and hope. Yesterday, the reds showed thought and skill, whereby what we used to call hope has certainly been promoted to belief. It is sad that Rafa’s post match conference has been used to rally the lads rather than congratulate them. And while the skill and thought has been definitely added, they have not replaced the adrenaline and determination we have seen in the past two encounters. Dirk Kuyt is the epitome of such, as out on the wing, he puffed, hurried, won balls and scored. Xabi Alonso had one of his better nights this season, as he sprayed the ball around like we know he can do, aided nonetheless by the Argentinean. The pairing of Jamie Carragher and Martin Skrtel had another good night, where the menace of Drogba was only evident in his usual antics.

It is now up to the likes of Steven Gerrard and Fernando Torres to stamp their authority in a week’s time. The basis is there, it is only the facelift that has been damaged, but it is far from irreparable. The latter has proved time and again, that he can make all the difference, and that records are only there to be broken. If anything, we have to keep this dream and season going, that is keeping us all away from the depressing situation at the boardroom.

2008-04-21T20:42:00.001+02:00

As another European campaign is getting to its climax, in parallel circumstances Liverpool are still in the process of confirming their eligibility for next year’s campaign. A two-nil win at Craven Cottage has moved Liverpool one step closer to such target when realistically they were only a couple of steps away. Next year’s Champions League seems set to have the privilege of having Liverpool F.C. in.

It was a comfortable win, that betrayed any cliché that a side fighting relegation will be fighting for their life as the performance was as dire and reassuring as a Tom Hicks promise. Players who had been on the fringes for most of the season were given their chance, and they replied with an honest contribution, most notably the two scorers Jermaine Pennant and Peter Crouch. Still, I think it is safe to think that both have not yet earned a place in tomorrow’s line-up and will be only savouring the Anfield atmosphere from the bench.

It was a repeat of Anfield’s score-line back in November, but this time it didn’t require the entry of Fernando Torres late in the game to break the deadlock. On Saturday, the deadlock was broken as early as the seventeenth minute and Liverpool just spent the match administering such advantage rather than chasing.

In complete different circumstances Liverpool now face the task of building an advantage at home that can be administered at Stamford Bridge.

2008-04-15T16:27:00.002+02:00

John 'Jack' Alfred Anderson (62)
Colin Mark Ashcroft (19)
James Gary Aspinall (18)
Kester Roger Marcus Ball (16)
Gerard Bernard Patrick Baron Snr (67)
Simon Bell (17)
Barry Sidney Bennett (26)
David John Benson (22)
David William Birtle (22)
Tony Bland (22)
Paul David Brady (21)
Andrew Mark Brookes (26)
Carl Brown (18)
David Steven Brown (25)
Henry Thomas Burke (47)
Peter Andrew Burkett (24)
Paul William Carlile (19)
Raymond Thomas Chapman (50)
Gary Christopher Church (19)
Joseph Clark 'Oey' (29)
Paul Clark (18)
Gary Collins (22)
Stephen Paul Copoe (20)
Tracey Elizabeth Cox (23)
James Philip Delaney (19)
Christopher Barry Devonside (18)
Christopher Edwards (29)
Vincent Michael Fitzsimmons (34)
Thomas Steven Fox (21)
Jon-Paul Gilhooley (10)
Barry Glover (27)
Ian Thomas Glover (20)
Derrick George Godwin (24)
Roy Harry Hamilton (34)
Philip Hammond (14)
Eric Hankin (33)
Gary Harrison (27)
Peter Andrew Harrison (31)
David Hawley (39)
James Robert 'Jimmy' Hennessy (29)
Paul Anthony Hewitson (26)
Carl Darren Hewitt (17)
Nicholas Michael Hewitt (16)
Sarah Louise Hicks (19)
Victoria Jane Hicks (15)
Gordon Rodney 'Goffer' Horn (20)
Arthur Horrocks (41)
Thomas Howard (39)
Thomas 'Tommy' Anthony Howard (14)
Eric George Hughes (42)
Alan Johnston (29)
Christine Ann Jones (27)
Gary Philip Jones (18)
Richard Jones (25)
Nicholas Peter Joynes (27)
Anthony Peter Kelly (29)
Michael David Kelly (38)
Carl David Lewis (18)
David William Mather (19)
Brian Christopher Matthews (38)
Francis Joseph McAllister (27)
John McBrien (18)
Marion Hazel McCabe (21)
Joseph Daniel McCarthy (21)
Peter McDonell (21)
Alan McGlone 'Gloney' (28)
Keith McGrath (17)
Paul Brian Murray (14)
Lee Nicol (14)
Stephen Francis O'Neill (17)
Jonathan Owens (18)
William Roy Pemberton (23)
Carl William Rimmer (21)
David George Rimmer (38)
Graham John Roberts (24)
Steven Joseph Robinson (17)
Henry Charles Rogers (17)
Colin Andrew Hugh William Sefton (23)
Inger Shah (38)
Paula Ann Smith (26)
Adam Edward Spearritt (14)
Philip John Steele (15)
David Leonard Thomas (23)
Patrick John Thompson (35)
Peter Reuben Thompson (30)
Stuart Paul William Thompson (17)
Peter Francis Toole (21)
Christopher James Traynor (26)
Martin Kevin Traynor (16)
Kevin Tyrell (15)
Colin Wafer (19)
Ian David 'Ronnie' Whelan (19)
Martin Kenneth Wild (29)
Kevin Daniel Williams (15)
Graham John Wright (17)

Ninety brothers and six sisters that never returned.
Rest in Peace.

You'll Never Walk Alone.

2008-04-14T22:02:00.001+02:00

Following the heights achieved on Tuesday, Liverpool reverted back to their earthly commitments hosting Blackburn Rovers at Anfield to honour their thirty-fourth Premiership fixture of the season. Liverpool must have been slightly hungover, and took their time to adjust themselves to the low gravity and contrast that such fixture presented compared to the yet again dramatically successful European quarter-final tie, but they went with their job in the same way most reds have probably gone on last Wednesday morning. Nothing special, nothing high flying, but enough to get through the day, and doing enough to earn their pay. The first half looked rather insipid and the 0-0 score-line did it justice and was probably akin to most reds productivity in the first hours of Wednesday morning, but then in the second half, Liverpool looked livelier, eventually breaking the deadlock on the hour mark.

It was Yossi Benayoun who won the ball when Blackburn looked to be averting the danger. Steven Gerrard was then the recipient, and with a quick one-two with Lucas, the captain infiltrated his way face to face with their keeper through the legs of Samba and coolly side-footing the ball into the net. The partnership between the captain and Fernando Torres was once again in action later on the match, as a perfect dipping cross by the former was met by the latter’s header that finished in the net, looked to confirm the three points to Liverpool, and with such a peace of mind, Rafael Benìtez substituted the thirty goal man so far with the sound of another standing ovation in the background.

In his five minute cameo, Andriy Voronin managed to get his name on the score-sheet, courtesy of a pass from the other out of favour John Arne Riise. He could hardly celebrate as he looked to do his ankle in the process, in what could easily be his last goal for Liverpool. A clean sheet was tainted by a Santa Cruz volley, but it only served to frustrate Jamie Carragher as another campaign of Champions League football looks to be on the way to be confirmed in the next one or two weeks.

2008-04-09T23:32:00.000+02:00

‘Anfield produces the most glorious of European nights.’ Sometimes it feels a bit of a cliché. Whole books have now been written about them all, endless tales have been told, and in a way it might feel like a statement that The Beatles are the greatest ever band in the world, a confirmation of the obvious. On nights like yesterday though, more than a cliché or a confirmation of what we have already known, it was a reinvention of it all. It was like the Beatles putting out another whole album, and you’ve got your hands on it, and you’ve listened to this whole thing on your own for the very first time. There have been great nights at Anfield, that carried their own intensity but I dare say that no match had the same drama, subplots, anti-climaxes and explosion of yesterday. The two matches against Chelsea were magnificent in their own right, but on both occasions Liverpool got early goals, and administered the match in a way they never had to come from behind and were found in a position where everything looked completely lost. These European nights never seem to stop to amaze us all, to carry us through every type of emotion. A rollercoaster would be the first word that comes to my mind to describe it, but at the moment it feels like a hollow and common description that doesn’t do the night any justice. If yesterday’s match was a science experiment, I would say Liverpool would have defied gravity. After having the whole weight of the world crashing on Anfield by Adebayor’s goal, Liverpool reacted by scoring two goals, having every red at Anfield feeling like floating on thin air.

It started awry, and the away goal advantage was succumbed as early as the thirteenth minute. The force of gravity seemed to be having an effect as most reds seemed to be rooted on the ground, while Arsenal whizzed around. But then Sami Hyypia took centre stage. His movement in their penalty area bought him space, and as he connected with Steven Gerrard’s corner, he directed the ball to a place where Almunia felt unworthy to even try to dive to. Contrary to awry, the start of the second half was pretty much aligned on the right track, as Liverpool were imposing themselves into the match, looking to undo the balance of the tie. And after the first goal by the one that has been here, done it all, got the shirt and the medal in the process, it was the turn to the European apprentice to put his name on the score-sheet and Liverpool’s folklore. Finding himself in the penalty area surrounded with white shirts, he turned and just stabbed the ball into the net, once again leaving the opposing keeper rooted on his line.

It was a strike worthy of any match-winner, a good enough conclusion to any poem. But Theo Walcott had a long run that looked more as a marathon than a sprint. It was enough to open up for Adebayor and give the away goal advantage to Arsenal. One minute later though, the fresh Ryan Babel won a penalty and we had another contrast. After so much frenzied action, everything looked to set itself in slow motion as the captain took the whole responsibility from the penalty spot to restore Liverpool’s advantage and revert the despair into ecstasy. He did it with the expertise and conviction of someone betting his mortgage.

It was still not enough, as Babel won the race and tug with Cesc Fabregas to score Liverpool’s fourth, crescendoing the whole surreality of the night and confirming the already written name of Liverpool in the last four of the Champions League.

2008-04-05T23:48:00.000+02:00

It was Oasis who used to claim of having the best B-sides, producing a whole album of them, which swaggeringly enough they called ‘The Masterplan’.
Talking about B-sides, the side that Benitez put on today to face Arsenal on their own turf, having eight changes from the one that started three days earlier, and including the debuting Damien Plessis, could just be called that. Certain names have probably confused the on looking Tom Hicks. And like most B-sides on the mentioned Oasis album, it did not disappoint at all, made us nod in appreciation of the simplicity of it all, and finally applauding the 1-1 creditable draw it earned, in the process paving the way to their more illustrious squad members to finish the job, and stamp their authority at the finale of this trilogy in less than a week.

It was the out of favour Peter Crouch who set the tone of the match, when he forced opposing keeper Manuel Almunia into a great save and got the first corner of the day. And it was only justice that he got on the score-sheet, shortly before half-time. Firstly nodding the ball to Yossi Benayoun after a long Pepe Reina spot kick, he received the ball again from the former, wrong-footed Gallas and drove an unstoppable and accurate kick at Almunia’s right. Apart from setting the tone of the match, the 6’7’’ one set the talking point of most post match rants between reds. Rafael Benitez is claiming that another contract only lacks his signing but the regular snubbing of him from the starting line-up is as enigmatic as Crouch himself – the very tall player who is weak in the air but defies gravity and is sometimes unplayable on the deck. It was Rafael Benitez who really put faith into him and from a relegated team and a ridiculed figure gave him the chance to prove himself with a big club. I understand his frustrations of not playing, and today in a true Liverpool way he answered Benitez with a man of the match display. Nothing is straight forward with Crouch though, and such a display will most probably still not be enough to get him a starting place in the big one next Tuesday, as today Rafa rotated for the sake of not rotating on next Tuesday. Still, the sight of him warming up come next Tuesday could give Arsene Wenger the jitters.

Tuesday is now ever so close, and psychologically this was another boost for Liverpool. With all three scores so far as equal as George Orwell’s animals, it could well be another draw that will be more equal than others.

2008-04-03T21:50:00.001+02:00

A total of eleven draws has been blamed as the scourge of Liverpool’s Premiership campaign, losing twenty-two points in the process and surrendering a proper challenge on the title as early as the turn of the year. Yesterday though, the 1-1 draw can hopefully be looked at as the first big step by Benitez on his march to the last four in the Champions League and to eventually the city that hosts the Kremlin. Earlier, in the build-up of the match, Jamie Carragher argued that they owe themselves an Anfield chance. With such a result, the red men acquired that and more than that gave themselves a higher probability of finishing the job and advancing at their own home in the definitely unparalleled atmosphere that the lure of the European Cup can only offer.

It was a mixture of silk and steel, class and resilience that gave Liverpool the all important away goal. Steven Gerrard ran and wrong-footed a couple of Arsenal defenders, opening space in the process, then squaring the ball to the tireless Dirk Kuyt who with his usual perseverance poked the ball into the net. It was the least Kuyt has deserved for his season so far. Whilst his goal account admittedly resembles more of a student than of the hard worker he is, his industry has bought him time from his manager and fans, and such a goal coupled with its importance is on the way of redeeming his whole season.

Alongside this possible redemption, we had the renewal of Sami Hyypia’s stature. At thirty-four years of age and on his ninth season for Liverpool, this Finn is on the verge of penning another contract for Liverpool, a contract offered to him by a manager that some three years ago, thought someone like Mauricio Pellegrino could offer him a decent challenge to his place. Once again, Hyypia made himself big, intercepted with ease and coolness and made defending look beautiful to watch and observe. On days like yesterday, Houllier’s biggest legacy multiplies himself into a hammer that breaks everything that comes his way with the authority of an auctioneer hammering his mallet to confirm a successful bid.

This away goal advantage can be felt very slender, but coupled with the residing European’s Cup shadow lurking over Anfield underneath the floodlights, would have been bought by any red before yesterday’s kick-off. A passage to the semi-finals though, would be the only valid currency after next week’s final whistle.

2008-03-31T09:21:00.001+02:00

Phil Neville won the toss of the coin and opted to defend the Kop goal in the first forty-five minutes, thus giving the onus to his defenders of facing Fernando Torres at his favourite side of the pitch at his freshest. His decision back-fired to him as early as the sixth minute, as the latter scored his fifteenth goal in his debut season, infront of the legendary stand. There have been instances where the Kop was said to have sucked the ball in, but yesterday there was no need for that, as the superlative Spaniard’s shot was accurate and powerful enough to beat the opposing keeper that yesterday happened to be Tim Howard.

Everton looked to have done enough to avert the danger from a Steven Gerrard corner, and Yakubu seemed to have taken it for himself to coolly start a counter-attack. Xabi Alonso though dispossessed him easily, fed Dirk Kuyt who sequently propositioned to Torres. Beating the offside trap, Torres instinctively drove towards the goal and just lashed a shot past the American. In his first Merseyside derby, Torres got the match-winner.

Torres’ goal was worthy enough of any match-winner but it was only to profligacy, bad luck and the post that Liverpool, particularly Steven Gerrard did not add up to this solitary goal, consequently leaving the result and the fate of the three points in doubt. Gerrard’s dominance on the pitch was never transferred to goals, but it was only the folklore of the Merseyside derby that everything can happen, that seeded these doubts as Pepe Reina hardly had a save to make, and Everton looked miles apart from Liverpool, in the process justifying their decision to uproot their stadium to Kirkby, leaving the whole city to the club with the Liverbird badge.

The minimum required, that is qualification for the Champions League seems to be well on track and within sight, as this five points margin will give the reds a breathing space, that with Arsenal on the horizon for three consecutive times will be much needed. In the meantime, a certain degree of belief must have returned to the side that made last Easter feel like Ash Wednesday.

2008-03-17T13:44:00.000+01:00

Just after the Barnsley defeat, and consequently the humbling exit from the F.A. Cup, it was widely felt that Liverpool has hit rock bottom. Like a brick thrown into the abyss of a well by some unskilled labourer. With Inter Milan next in three days time, the lure of Champions League wasn’t feeling too great. A big meal is awaiting when you have just thrown anything inside your guts possibly through food poison. The thought of it alone makes you even sicker, but you know you have to attend. Liverpool had to honour the fixture, just not to make matters worse.

At that time, statistically a mere month ago, the blindest optimists would argue that the only way is up. Surely Liverpool couldn’t sink even further. It seems that the food poison just helped to shed a few kilos off the body weight and a few inches off the waist. Since then Liverpool have looked leaner and lighter. They looked different and consequently have won matches - for seven consecutive times. Gloom has turned into glare, and optimism has turned into expectation. Once again, Liverpool repelled the adversity. Forthcoming matches are not chores anymore but the main point of your week.

When last Saturday, the Czech Matejovsky produced a superlative effort, reminding us of his compatriot Patrik Berger, after just five minutes, heads were ruffled but the same heads never went down. The hill got steeper, another gear was put in, simple. The name of Javier Mascherano got sung around Anfield to the tune of The White Stripes, Seven Nation Army song. Since that afternoon against Barnsley, the Argentinean has put his name officially on the books of Liverpool F.C. after a too long saga, put his name a few times on the ‘Man of the Match’ statistics, and now even on a score-sheet. Talk of a good month! And then, a floated free-kick through Steven Gerrard got met by Fernando Torres. And the rest is history. The latter achieved the twentieth Premiership goal and another three points were won.

To put things into perspective, through these seven games, Liverpool has beaten home and away one of the top sides in Europe in Inter Milan, and then four times out of five won at home against lower opposition in the Premiership. The other time, Liverpool put to the sword, a team that is currently in the eighteenth position.

What is though more encouraging is the way Liverpool accomplished these five wins on the trot. Scoring fifteen and conceding a mere three is a testament that Liverpool have been adventurous and played great football. Another even more encouraging aspect of it all is the way Fernando Torres had a hand in this run with his eight goals, and stamped his class all over the place. I, for one, am a firm believer in team work, but only a player of his class can make the whole difference in the small details. His telepathic understanding with Steven Gerrard is a marvel.

What Rafael Benitez has achieved against Inter Milan is to his great credit, and an immeasurable achievement. He has only repeated his triumphal tactical acumen on the biggest stage of them all. He has done it all before albeit in not such audacity. After these five consecutive wins, he changed the mood into his dressing room, the streets of Liverpool and every red’s around. He has built a strong foundation for the next five big matches.

In Rafa’s own words, it’s the next one that matters for the moment. And the next one is one of the biggest in the fixture list and the recent record is only forgettable. It is now time to consolidate this great run and for Rafa to emulate Mascherano and break his duck on the local stage against his inferior in European football. With a little help from his compatriot, big things can happen.

2008-03-12T02:28:00.001+01:00

There have been distractions off the pitch which have been marring the whole season, and leaving a sour taste and sore wounds on every red. Yesterday we had the perfect distraction from it all. Yesterday there was no need of vetoes, the feeling was mutual. Two wins over the Serie A Champions, leaders and probably champions elect is a confirmation of the sans pareil European pedigree Liverpool F.C. holds and is continuing to carry. And we are able to dream again. We respect the glorious past, we hold on every thread of folk story that make Liverpool F.C. what is today, and we are adding chapters in the unique encyclopedia that is this club.

The special night at Anfield over Inter Milan three weeks ago was respected and now alleviated with this performance. The two goal advantage Liverpool travelled with was not only looked after but ended in giving dividends. It created space for the forwards. And I cannot wish to anyone else than Torres to be the Liverpool forward. He either makes the keeper tremble, work hard or feeling useless. The striker at the other end is considered one of the very top forwards in European football and has a record that speaks for itself. On evidence of these two matches, our Spaniard made him look one of the others, one of the masses.

There was no longing for the final whistle. There were no complications at the end. It was made swift. And a usually partisan crowd which probably believes that Milan is the world stood up and applauded the team from Merseyside. No booing or whistling. Just mutual respect for a self-made aristocrat in European football which never forgets his roots.

2008-03-03T02:58:00.000+01:00

It was Jean Paul Sartre who once said, ‘In football everything is complicated by the presence of the other team’. Having witnessed what the opposing Jaaskelainen succumbed to in the twelfth minute, the validity of such quote gets well defied. A run of the mill shot by Steven Gerrard looked to be trickling harmlessly away, but a dive by the former helped the ball into the net. For a change, Lady Luck decided to court Liverpool. It was only in such a moment that such lady was apparent though, as from then on Liverpool just went on their job at the Reebok Stadium and got what they wanted, in the process getting three goals and the equivalent number of points.

There was no need of heroics, no need of a particular man to stand up above the others and take the issues single handedly. The collective effort of the eleven men in red was too much for the lowly Bolton and made a mockery of the hoodoo the Reebok Stadium supposedly holds for Liverpool. Still there was the usual man of the match, and in my eyes it goes to Ryan Babel, who decided to hug the left touchline and at the same time abandon it to cut off towards the thick of the action and test the red faced Jaaskelainen. Babel though was most of the time marginally less luckier than Gerrard as after defying the credibility of Sartre’s quote he took it up to himself to repay the Frenchman back. Still he could do nothing when on the hour mark the Dutchman got his just reward for his afternoon’s work as his shot got past him and into the net.

And then it was Aurelio’s turn to get on the score-sheet. For the first time ever. It was a sweet left volley that arched its way through the crowd. He has been close before, usually from dead ball situations. This time his instincts reaped him more dividends than his thoughts. He is Brazilian, but at times he looks more Norwegian. At the moment, credit where it is, his performances are enough to get the nod ahead of the other Norwegian Riise.

The clean sheet was later blotched. It only helped to enrage the dependent Reina for a moment though as the three points were already safe in the bag, and another away win was recorded. The quest of getting three points for the consolation of the fourth place continues on Wednesday against West Ham at Anfield. Another effective performance should straighten Sartre’s complicated matters on offer by the bubbly Hammers.

2008-02-23T23:18:00.001+01:00

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.

2008-02-20T02:21:00.000+01:00

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.

2008-02-17T02:52:00.000+01:00

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.

2008-02-03T04:39:00.000+01:00

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.

2008-01-31T04:05:00.000+01:00

It is a classic Catch 22 situation. Joseph Heller is probably immune to it all but the likes of Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley are probably turning in their graves. The chicken is crowing, while the egg is lying peacefully on the straws. In the meantime it is impossible to determine who was first, the chicken or the egg.

I stand by every word I’ve said in my previous posts about the boardroom upheaval, insecurities and differences laid out in the bare in a sad unorthodox Liverpool way. It has definitely affected the players psychologically and it showed on the pitch. Now, though these last few performances and in particular yesterday’s match against West Ham can only aggravate the situation. And someone or even some have to stand up and take some responsibility. It is also the Liverpool way to repel adversity. In football or otherwise we had the classic militant stance taken by most Scousers in the eighties when their bread was getting snatched away. A certain female prime minister asked them to get on their bike. It seems some of the lads at the moment have certainly took this bike idea, as they seem to get on the pitch for a ride purpose. In the year when Liverpool has been crowned the European Capital of Culture, the beliefs, behaviours and characteristics of the true symbol of the city are getting lost and muddled in a humiliating way.

The manager has been getting all the support he could ever dreamt of whilst he was and probably still is in the middle of the whole controversy. At the start of the season we were debating rotation. Now it seems in the Premiership, the manager is intent not to rotate his strikers. There is no question about Fernando Torres as at the moment he is one of the very few who can give us a glimpse of hope but the insistence of starting Kuyt is quite baffling and verging on stubbornness of Houllier proportions. Kuyt is definitely not one of the lads getting on the pitch for a ride, but he does seem to be getting on a bike to challenge someone on a motorcycle. He pedals, sweats everything out but ultimately can never be at the finishing line when it matters. His goal scoring record this season says it all. In the meantime Peter Crouch warms the bench, and stays there till the very end.

The penalty at the very dying minutes might have been cruel. Sadly though and it is another anomaly of the situation it hasn’t left me as gutted as I usually am in such situations. The club, the situation and the match itself were already too messed up for a last minute incident to make much difference. In the meantime, the position in the table stares expressionless at us, at the same time giving an eloquent statement of affairs.

2008-01-24T10:13:00.000+01:00

Another match, another draw. Another two points dropped. Another feeling of déjà vu. Another feeling of emptiness. Another match to confirm the distance between what we hoped for and where we actually are. In the meantime the air of uncertainty and unrest lingers on. It is not a cause of dirty laundry getting washed in public, but more of unwashed dirty laundry set in public to get examined and laughed at. Big Brother seems to be operating in the corridors of Anfield. The formality of a football match is only there to confirm the above.

The captain further confirms that such uncertainty has lingered for too long now and it is affecting the players. It hasn’t bonded the players together more. It has only fastened a noose on every player’s neck. While a big rope is felt by their necks, their future is hanging by just a thread. Hanging time it is. But the ones who should be hanging exonerate themselves from their jury and leave their seats empty. A football match for them is a mere side occasion in the grand scheme of things. And they probably can’t understand the fuss on it all. Much bigger companies merge, jobs are lost, a few headlines are made and in a few days the headlines look for a different story. Such is life.

Peter Crouch saved face. Rather than a giraffe he looked more like a gazelle. It was still not enough though. We have just moved further through the crossroads. We have to change the road we are in as there is only a big wall in front. The roads offered though are still unlighted and the map does not recognize them. In the meantime, another match will be just another formality. What for the Godfather was more important than life and death, it is now a formality. A word which probably was not allowed in his dictionary.

Times and things change, not always for the better though.

2008-01-16T03:37:00.000+01:00

I watched the match today or yesterday, depending on the time zone you are in on ESPN. A haphazard guess would be that both Messrs Hicks and Gilett follow the fortunes of the reds from the same channel. As the match was one minute old they inform you on you screen, just below the small scoreboard who is playing in red jerseys and white jerseys. You can never assume that the viewer knows that Liverpool playing at Anfield always play in red. Being raised up on such information, some of the statements that have shocked me so much in the past few months start to make a tad more sense. You start stomaching them. While stomaching them you still have to close your eyes and there’s still every chance it will make you all sick and the body will thankfully only put it all out in no time.

This last Klinsmann story is simply unstomachable though. It defies belief, trust and credibility. It’s not just a hiccup while on the family dining room. It’s one in a series of blurts on a banquet that has now gone beyond all the elastic boundaries of acceptability. I now know that I am longing to see the back of Mr Hicks. I now know that I can’t stand the sight of him anymore.

And at the backdrop of all this, Liverpool faced the Championship side Luton Town in a replay for the FA Cup third round at Anfield. Anfield sold out on a very cold and wet Tuesday night, and the loyal servant Jamie Carragher recorded his name of the team sheet for the 500th time. A guard of honour including his boss Rafael Benitez started his night. But that was it, he quickly went back to business of leading the back four and the whole side. Just the Liverpool way. Trustable and without much fuss. Making a positive difference in the lives of the 40,000 at the match and the rest watching from anywhere that a Liverbird means much more to them than a logo, a brand or a franchise.

As expected the men in red pressed Luton back into their penalty area, but not into as much as into their shells. That was till the first forty-five minutes though. In the extra minute afforded, Ryan Babel drove home a right-footed shot into the corner of the net. The man in black rightly halted the match after that but the momentum in Liverpool had only just begun.

Just after the start of the second forty-five minutes, Steven Gerrard scored a hat-trick in no time and Sami Hyypia added another in between. Fernando Torres was rather off colour but it seems that he is picking and choosing his off days when the side can afford to, the last time being away to Newcastle.

The first win of 2008 has finally arrived then. No corners have been turned yet but at least a muddy surface created by insiders have been dealt through, and the name of the boss who once brought a European Cup for good has been aired with passion.

2008-01-13T04:33:00.000+01:00

When Liverpool drew Blackburn away from home, we or just me found refuge in the fact that at least the unbeaten record in the Premiership is still intact and the wagon is thus still rolling. Just two months from that day, the scenario is completely different. Winter is now here, Christmas is past, a lot of happenings at the boardroom and a draw at the Riverside Stadium against Middlesbrough is only a fatal two points lost with no refuge to be soothe the disappointment. It’s January and the real target is a Champions League position rather than the title.

Talking about refuge earlier, the club at the moment is more looking that an asylum seekers place with refugee status still far away from the horizon. The trouble and squabbling at the very top coupled with the incessant media speculation has properly got to everyone now and it’s showing on the pitch. The first match after the first public outburst seemed to have brought the best out of everyone, running amok the black and white shirts representing Newcastle United, getting a 3-0 score-line in the process with the true star of the campaign so far, losing his scoring boots back at Melwood.

The adrenaline pumped then has well fizzed away and has been transformed to worry and uncertainty that together are shackling the player’s legs and the manager’s mind simultaneously. At times the display looked plain lethargic, that while watching from my temporary home in Melbourne at two in the morning made it very hard not to nod from time to time.

The tiny straw we can all clutch is the confirmation of Fernando’s class. His goal was once again on the superlative side of things, shooting outside the penalty area that still even two keepers would not have kept. The frustration of the whole match as yet, turned into one burst of sheer delight, admiration and realisation of what we have got in our hands.

At times, this is getting eerily similar to 2002/03 when the plot and foundations set in the previous seasons all got drowned off after the then manager’s health problems. Fernando Torres today seems to be replacing the Steven Gerrard of that season, as the only one really rising above the whole crisis and saving games single handedly. It was only the fourth round too that Liverpool got eliminated from the FA Cup in a replay at Anfield against a side from the Championship.

Hopefully next Tuesday against Luton, the tide is turned without the need of Torres and the possibility of this haunting similarity will be exorcised. No corner would yet be turned but at least the missing feeling of victory since Boxing Day would return, and the fragile confidence of a lot of the red men will be slightly boosted.

2008-01-10T10:18:00.000+01:00

I’ve just landed at Dubai Airport. Next thing I do is switching on my mobile, but no messages come in. My mates wouldn’t let me down. I asked them to keep me updated about the goings on at Anfield, so after forty-five minutes the match must be still scoreless. A coach came to pick us up and I make my way to the gate, then take my trainees off as I go through their security procedures. Shortly afterwards I get a message in. Torres scored. A bit of relief, beats a massage after a seven hour trip on a plane. I look at the monitors to check which gate I am to board for my next flight to Melbourne via Singapore. It all turns in Arabic fonts and if you think Greek is hard, try that. The airport is dead busy, even though it’s their midnight. I stroll through a shop, it has all your classic polo shirts, but the price is as expensive as anywhere else in the world. Globalisation, at its best. I just go through the reception desk to ask which gate my flight’s at. The polite receptionist informs me it’s number 21, which now thinking about it is my lucky number. It’s when’s my birthday’s on and I still remember having that seat in Cardiff in the League Cup Final over the Mancs.

I made my way to the gate, with us still 1-0. Put my laptop out and tried to get some connection from the available Wi-Fi. I did get a network, logged on the official site, and the result hasn’t changed yet. Wigan gave the Reds a stern test in their backyard earlier this season. It was only a solo dinking effort by Yossi Benayoun that earned the Reds the three points. Pies weren’t exactly forced down the small town natives throats. Overall though, since Wigan moved to the Premiership, the reds always got the three points. And Peter Crouch broke his duck against them. In the meantime am through the e-season log in and get Steve Hunter’s commentary, helped by Phil Neal. It’s the first match I am just listening to rather than watching, for some three years I guess. I just try to visualize what’s happening without actually watching anything. It’s time to use my imagination. It feels like a laboured performance, that so far the class of Torres has made all the difference between three points won and two points lost. Being one up though am not feeling too bad. The hardest thing’s done. It’s much harder putting the shutters up than putting the same shutters down. The key is now in Liverpool’s hands and thus come closing time the shutters would be already half way down.

The weak connection gets cut out. Am thinking it’s the e-season ticket playing up and brings me back memories of trying to follow the commentary through a dial-up connection, at the same time learning the new word ‘buffering’. I actually re-connect and get through the commentary without much hassle.

Titus Bramble for some reason brings me memories of Phil Babb. Phil Babb probably got the edge over him in the one-time hit wonders, but over all the former edges him. It’s a travesty his one-time hit wonder actually broke him rather than made him. Bramble runs him well close though. Apart from the other embarrassments and indecisions, I remember him stripping off his trackie to come in for Newcastle at Anfield two years ago on a Boxing Day match. The whole Kop laughed and actually applauded him while getting on. It was not the Anfield’s usual show of respect reserved for classy players. No, it was a gesture of goodwill during the festive season, to someone who reinstated comedy into football.

Today, he apparently scores a scorcher. The poor comedian manages a good one-liner in a funeral.

A double save by the ex-Kirkland defies the captain, and the three points banked on earlier on. Dirk Kuyt and Peter Crouch are thrown into the fray, but the result feels already framed up. The ninety minutes are almost up and I’ve got to board in quickly. Pressing issues from both sides, a bit of a G-clamp actually.

With the shutters supposedly half way down, the usually picked on lad hid himself, sneaked in and helped himself.

2007-12-31T06:50:00.000+01:00

The earth got all ploughed up in a hard way, the seeds were all thrown but it just failed to rain at the right moment. And Liverpool only left the City of Manchester Stadium with a point after a scoreless draw. After seeing the then leaders Manchester United lose at Upton Park, the onus was on the reds to make up lost ground and sustain the challenge on the title, but the psychological barrier of earning the full points after seeing other teams failing proved once again too hard to break. It was not for the usual lack of aptitude or belief this time though. It was a mixture of a sturdy defense marshaled by one Richard Dunne who just got into the way of everything the reds threw at him, and just a case of trying to walk the ball in only to be repelled at the very last minute.

Yesterday was a case of a side with the best away record travelling a short distance to meet the best home side in their own back-yard. A record attendance was recorded in the rather new stadium, it would seem that the red part of Merseyside still generates more interest that the red part of the same city.

Fernando Torres started his seventh match in succession in the Premier League, showing that the early talk about rotating too much is getting less credible day by day. In a way though, it could be argued that the toll of having another match in a short space of time at a time when he is used to be on his holidays is taking its toll on this gem as at times he looked rather off colour compared to the brightness we have been accustomed to. Torres was presented with a couple of chances that he never pounced on hungrily as usual and his usual burst of pace was often curtailed by his direct opponent Richard Dunne, who probably had his best game ever. The Spaniard’s strike partner for the day, Dirk Kuyt worked tirelessly as usual but once again failed to score and not being an enough menace in their penalty area. His header some five minutes from time only got cleared off the line after being parried by their keeper, Joe Holt. Maybe a bit of more spring on his header would have given the reds the so deserved three points.

The best display by the man in red was by a mile Javier Mascherano. On a day, where the midfield maestro of yesteryear Dietmar Hamann, the one called Kaiser for very serious reasons, was on the other side, the Argentinean took it upon himself to show that while the German will always be fondly remembered, we’ve got in our hands a very similar type that can run all day, tackle, break attacks, win the ball back and start attacks himself. I was having different thoughts lately about spending seventeen million on a defensive midfielder, when sometimes we could do with a tad more creativity, but on days like yesterday you get convinced that in their hands Liverpool got a gem, still in his early days that loves the shirt he plays in, that can’t be afforded to let go. And in enough time to take a couple of leafs from Hamann’s book and win free-kicks in his own half, on evidence yesterday twice in succession, shielding the ball in an inimitable way, only provoking the opponent to take his feet rather than the ball. It would make the very complete midfielder.

Such two points lost confirm Liverpool as outside challengers, rather than in the very fray of things. Still on a different cloud, but for sure a better man.

2007-12-26T19:29:00.001+01:00

Fernando Torres opened up the Derby defence with the technique and glee of an excited kid unwrapping a Christmas present. He received the ball just outside the penalty area, took on his opponent on his own rather than passing, then just went past the next Derby defender and just clipped the ball in the far corner. With the match just thirteen minutes old, and a Derby defence seemingly water tight as a wrapping paper you would have thought that the focus has now turned on improving the goal difference column rather than the points won one. Openings and good chances followed in the next thirty-two minutes or so, but they were treated with the respect of a spoilt brat who had too many jumpers and argyle socks under his Christmas tree.
The no easy games cliché looked as dead and buried as the turkey digested during yesterday’s lunch. After going one goal up, Liverpool recorded 86% of the possession in the first fifteen minutes, a six-nil win at Anfield in September, and a record of seven points out of eighteen matches only confirmed the threat of today’s opponents.

The affable and ex-Liverpool reserve Paul Jewell seemed to have roused his troops at half-time. And Liverpool probably felt they have done already enough to return to Merseyside with the three points. They disrespected their opponents and just looked all over the place, wasting pass after pass, lacking assertiveness, cutting edge and solidity at the back, when taking in consideration John Arne Riise was deputising as centre-back, it was not too surprising. An accident was waiting to happen, and it actually did happen on the sixty-seventh minute when James McEvely slotted the ball home after Liverpool failed to defend properly a free-kick. The present unwrapped by Torres in the first half looked now broken and effectively put on the side.

Liverpool quickly regrouped, Dirk Kuyt was thrown into the fray for Ryan Babel (who so far always looked better and more effectively when subbed on rather than when starting the match). The returning Xabi Alonso got the best out of the Welsh keeper Lewis Price after a curling shot from just outside the penalty area. Steven Gerrard went even closer, getting the better out of Lewis Price but not the crossbar as he rattled a shot after some very good work by Yossi Benayoun who subbed Sami Hyypia earlier on.

It was only a reprieve though, when some two minutes later, Gerrard simply poked the ball into the net, after a close save on Torres to save Liverpool’s blushes and basically get Liverpool out of jail from a position of not just two points lost, but squandered and scattered shamefully.