Let me start this piece with a precursor. At the exact moment of me writing these words, it’s currently half-time at Anfield as Liverpool prepare to start the second half of their third round FA cup tie with West Brom with the score at 3-1.
Though my mood may change as time ticks on, I couldn’t give a flying fuck how the second half turns out, because based on that first half performance, I’ve got so much to bitch and moan about that I’ve finally been lulled out of a six month blogging hiatus.
Anyway, as you were.
Not even a week since the typically “Liverpool way™” performance against Swansea (you know, the whole beating the unbeaten league leaders comprehensively before losing to the shambolic shit show at the bottom of the leauge), Liverpool Football Club are at it again.
Right now, per the 54th minute of the game between what looks like a bunch of school boys, I’m watching the Reds punt long balls at Mo Salah against a team renowned for their heading ability.
The three goals we’ve conceded – and the one that the Video Action Replay chalked off – have all been ludicrously childish. Given Trent Alexander-Arnold is still young enough to be in college and all, but still.
After the performance of his career in my eyes against Manchester City, Gini Wijnaldum looks a shadow of a man. The idea of passing forwards clearly gives him altitude sickness, and boy is it detrimental to our play.
Nothing changes, ever. This is the exact narrative Liverpool play out every year. We’ll beat the top teams, challenge the good, embarrass ourselves against the rest.
I recall a few years ago reading in Torres’ autobiography about how much he used to love getting up for the big games towards the end of his Liverpool career. Funny, considering he’d only ever bag against Chelsea, and never show up against the Fulham’s of the league.
That mentality never changes. Why? No one is fucking scared.
They’re all absolutely certain that they’re in the team next week. WHY?! It’s time Klopp dropped half of this squad, whether it’s for fringe players or for prepubescent under-16 players who actually want to play for the fucking shirt.
I’ll give credit where it’s due. Alexander-Arnold is a youngster, and he deserves an arm around the shoulder to tell him to keep his head. Captain-leader-legend Jordan Henderson charged on the pitch and took his faux-bollocks out of his locker and made it look like he at least cared. Milner played with the experience he, well… has.
As for most of the rest, what are they doing? Let alone on the pitch, in the fucking side? We certainly have bigger fish to fry this season, and admittedly I still firmly believe we’ll get a top four spot. Nevertheless, this was about as good as our starting team can look… and we’ve lost to West Brom, at Anfield.
Fergie was famed for the hairdryer treatment when his players were bad. As for Klopp, I’m not even sure he’ll ever drop a man for playing performing like a literal flaming pile of shite.
Again, as if the consistency of the nature of problems we face isn’t enough, we seem to be coming up with more. We simply aren’t ruthless and frankly, it’s a joke.
If Liverpool are going to kick on, and become a top club again, then it’s time harsh decisions were made. We supposedly have the money in place to back a manager who’s proved he can play successful football, so now we just need to implement a spine into his team selection (both metaphorically and literally).
Drop players who don’t perform. We aren’t fucking Arsenal, after all. Goalkeepers leaking left right and centre? Buy a new one. Forwards limited in their attacking style? Sign someone in a different model. These don’t seem like difficult concepts.
As mentioned before, it’s been a while since I’ve written, and I know this doesn’t make a lot of cohesive sense. Mostly because I’m pissed off. I’m not even proof reading it before posting, because frankly, this piece is supposed to be symbolic of closure to the god awful soccer I’ve just witnessed. I might not be able to round off in my usual emphatic hyperbolic manner, but it would feel like a slap in the face for it not to be said how remarkably stupid our approach to just about everything is.
So here’s to Liverpool football club attacking my sanity, and the incoming text from my Baggies-supporting-Uncle which I’m confident will simply read ‘BOING BOING’.