Here we go again. Unlike most non-football weekends, this one has been followed by a Tuesday game, just to stop us getting withdrawal symptoms. Our point at Arsenal, albeit against a side about as toothless as week-old baby and which would surely be relegation fodder were they to lose Van Persie, was well won, but we have it all to do again tonight. As if to prove that there aren’t that many teams you can trust in football, the scousers won at Real Madrid, then lost at the Riverside – just to prove that you can’t trust the smogs either, as if we didn’t know that already. So Liverpool will be either thinking they’re a load of crap and thus likely to lose, or be in a bad mood.

I know which I think it will be, but that’s not to say I’m thinking we’ll get nothing. Play like we did at Ashburton Grove, with passion and organisation, and we’ll be no pushover. Add to that the Cisse factor – former player returning his old stamping ground where the fans loved him (but not quite as much as we love him, mind) – and alongside Jones they can cause any defence problems. All he has to do is to mention to Carragher that some chaps wearing masks and hooped jumpers, and carry large sacks bearing the word “SWAG”, were spotted outside the defender’s house, and the whole home side will be racing off to the suburbs to see what’s left of their treasured possessions.

As there was no game at the weekend, I spent it in the Lakes, only arriving home in time (and in one piece despite my reaction to Bolton’s goal against the mags nearly taking us off the road), to catch the last ten minutes of the League Cup final, plus the extra time. OK, so Ronaldo hit the post, but had it not been for penalties they’d have still been waiting for a goal. Unlike our reserves, who beat Solksjaer’s Man Utd second string to stay top. What with the Youth doing great things as well, the clubs looks to have good things in store for the future.

So off we went for our first night game in Liverpool since yonks ago, but we were off to a bad start when it was discovered that the lavvy door was locked shut and the key didn’t work. After an extra services stop there was still a lot of dancing in the aisle, so the combined engineering skills of myself, Mr Winks, and Rob were required (with the aid of two spoons and a bottle opener) to rectify the situation and get the lock bust. Relief all round. At least it gave Ronnie the driver time to put the clock right – something which is probably illegal on football coaches. Arriving in the city of culture just after five we nipped into town and the Caernarvon Castle, where, as ever, there was a friendly local full of craic – about his time working at Consett, about playing against Bishop fifty years back, about Shack being a great player, and about supporting Everton. The Cains beers had gone, though – a bit like the apes leaving Gibraltar, reckoned Sixer by text. After negotiation the car park full of Spanish number plates, we gave up on the Arkles (‘cos they wouldn’t let us in) and had a swifty in the pub which claimed to be the home of Liverpool FC.

Fulop
Ben Ferdy Collins George
Steed Richo Deano Leadbitter Reid
Lonesome Jones

With only Kenwyne up front, we hoped for a repeat of Arsenal, but after only a couple of minutes it could and should have been so much better, as Jones forged himself an opening and burst through the middle. While the save from Riera was a good one, he should really have had no chance, and it will go down as a bad miss from an attempted poke past when anything lifted would have surely been a goal. Again, we were calm and patient at the back, while our midfield worked hard, forcing Gerrard to play very deep. Fulop saved well down to his right on the half hour, and the corner was partially cleared then fired well over as we continued to give almost as good as we got. Towards the end of the half Liverpool came at us a it more, but we never really looked uncomfortable as the Anfield atmosphere proved to be a thing of myth, legend, and European nights only.

Deservedly level at the break, and the quality at the seats (rotten at £36 a go) meant that very little sitting was done. I hope there’s no come-back against the fans for that, because there was little choice if you wanted to see anything. Slightly against the run of the half so far they went ahead on 51, but things began to slip away from us when we brought on Cisse for Leadbitter ten minutes later. The extra space they gained in midfield allowed them to pres us much more, and mistakes were bound to happen – we thought. To be fair, we didn’t make that many, but Richardson’s delivery from a free on the right as Cisse entered the field of play was awful, and soon after they got a second as Fulop couldn’t hold a cross-shot (I’d like to see it again before criticising) and the loose ball was knocked away. With fifteen to go Murphy replaced Jones, but with a two goal cushion the home side could knock it about confidently. Carlos got a ten minute runout in place of Steed and shot a yard over, and Cisse ran about a lot but rarely touched the ball.

So a disappointing defeat in a game of two very different halves, and while it might have seemed like the end of the world for a bit, it’s far from the end of the season. This was Liverpool, this was Anfield, and while our tactics in the second half let us down (although one up front, then two up front before going back to one was most people’s choice before kick-off), we shouldn’t be too downhearted. There was the same defensive resilience for most of the game, and we were one shot away from taking an early lead. Spurs on Saturday is a game in which the two forwards should be much more effective.

Man of the Match? Probably Whitehead, who once again covered a lot of ground and more than held his own against allegedly more illustrious opponents.

Keep the faith

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