Off we go again. After all the pre-season hype, transfer shenanigans, fixture re-shuffling, League Cup draw (away to Forest again, did Keano know something we didn’t?), and Irish tour where even Quinny couldn’t sort out the weather, we’re up and running. The season starts today, the fans are, for the most part, as enthusiastic as they’ve ever been, and those who’d done the Ireland and Guinness experience had just welcomed the return of the ginger snakes Bring it on!

Well, that was the plan, but the usual first-day nerves (pathetic, really, but stomach-churningly true) saw me up early enough to see our lass off to work, and she confirmed it “eeh, football’s back, you’ll be all exited.” I was, but I’m a three o’clock man, so there was an extra two and a bit hours of pacing about the house looking for something to do. Thankfully there was the Olympics, and, although I wasn’t up early enough for the swimming gold (and world record), there was the bronze in the double sculls (sounds like a Teesside affliction) which included Rowbotham (I know, you couldn’t make it up) whose Durham Uni attendance must make him a Wearsider of sorts. Another bronze for the ladies in their version, and then the classic as far as GB are concerned, the coxless fours (insert unusual puns here). Gold won thanks to my very vocal support, generated in the Western World, surely heard in the Orient. Certainly heard all the way down our street and ruining our Ian’s lie-in. Several medals later, I could take no more, donned the colours, and headed off to the Station. Craic time.

Conversation stayed with the Games, but back to the Sol, and a word of congratulation for former burger seller Tony Jeffries, boxing his way from Sunderland towards the medals in Beijing. At least we can be rude to the people in the burger vans today, safe in the knowledge that we won’t be felled by a right hook from behind the counter. Not that we would be rude anyway, but well done Tony, and keep it up.

Arguably, the signings we’re brought in prove that we have indeed arrived at the much-vaunted “next level.” I think it’s fair to say that the Spurs Three and Diouf would not have chosen Wearside a year ago, so well done Roy, Niall, and the Quiet Men behind them. Of the reputations brought along, Keano said “I don’t care what he wears, I don’t care what he drives or who he sleeps with. I’m glad he’s with me.” Interesting. Perhaps our traditional end-of-season fancy dress should have a Diouf/rapper theme. Perhaps not.

All that aside, and despite a lot of effort, we’re still lacking a proven player up front and the same at the back, but at least Chopra’s daft (daft by him, daft by the referee) ban doesn’t kick-in until after today’s game. Another flying start by the lad this season would be most welcome, and buy us a bit of time to strengthen where we need to.

Where we didn’t sign the big-name forward, Liverpool did, as, alongside three blokes I’ll happily admit to knowing nothing about, Robbie Keane arrived. If he’d made up Sunderland’s Spurs Four, I’d have been over the moon, as they used to say on Saints and Greavsie. Alongside Torres, he should arguably provide the Reds with the most potent strike-force in the division, but we all know that it doesn’t always work out that way. I didn’t see their European game in midweek, but John in the Station was happy to report that, in a generally poor game, the pair of them couldn’t pass water and the partnership looked about as pointless as Peaches Geldof. Hopefully, they’ll still be struggling to understand each other come 5:30.

Back to the subject of football, much of the talk on the way through (after a 2pm departure, not that it put some off starting at 11:30 as for a normal kick-off) was of what sort of formation Roy would put out – the midfield options, as they say, are infinite these days – and what sort of day landlord John would have with his Horswill-escorted day in the posh seats that he won in the same auction that resulted in a signed shirt now hanging above my bed. The betting was that he’d be warmer than us by the time he got back to base.

Plenty of time for a bite to eat in town, where there were very few Scousers in evidence, and a couple of liquid nerve-settlers, then over to the ground early to join the queue in the scarily hot club shop. Things need to be bought from time to time.

Roy opted for Chimbo at right back, Bardsley at left back, and a Noz/Collins central partnership. In midfield were Tainio, Reid, Richardson, Diouf, and Malbranque, leaving Murphy alone up front, if you’ve got the personnel, 4-5-1 can work, and those at our disposal this season are much more of that type. With the pitch now a yard or so shorter than previously, making my view slightly different, we set away kicking south. After several poor touches by Liverpool, Rico shot side, and we produced lots of confident one-touch stuff. The speed with which we moved the ball about was entertaining in itself, and indicative of the belief that the new signings have brought to the side. For all the money the opposition have spent, it was disappointing to see them resort to some pretty sneaky blocks on Rico rather than try to play football, but this may well have been down to us being in their faces from the off. A left wing battle ended with a header being saved after 12 or so minutes, in front of the clever visiting fans, so upset at having their allocation reduced for persistent standing that they, er, stood. It seemed to work, as the ref (from my completely unbiased point of view) favoured them in almost every 50/50 decision, exactly every one where Steve Gerrard was involved.

After half an hour we produced some passing of dizzying quality to win a corner, then the aforementioned Gerrard threw himself shamefully to the turf to the disgust if the crowd. While we were certainly the better side in terms of possession and creativity, there was always the chance that Liverpool could hit us on the break. As the minutes ticked down towards halftime, Bardsley halted Torres with a brilliant tackle, then got in a good clearing header.

No score at the break, no changes for the second half, and off we went again. Their number 17, whoever he is, got away with a couple of very bookable offences, and we started to sit back a bit too much, allowing the visitors more space in which to play.. Consequently Gerrard became more of an influence, but eventually the ref spotted number 17 dropping Rico, as he tried to break down the right, yet again and waved the first card of the afternoon. Deano replaced Tainio on 55, changing the shape slightly. Murphy cut in from the right and had a shot saved, then what looked like a very debatable free-kick on the edge of our box gave them a chance. Thankfully the wall did its job, and we were able to clear after a great Gordon save. On 72, Steed made way for Carlos, and the play shifted more to the right. Rico got in a great tackle on Gerrard as he tried to break, and then Chops replaced Diouf. When the ball fell to Torres in the inside right position with eight to go, you could sense what was going to happen, and it did. That’s what you pay your £20-odd million quid for, I suppose, and it certainly woke up the daft Scouse in the upper North stand. Not that I condone violence in any way, but you had to laugh at the attempts to keep the silly bugger safe as folks queued up to belt him, then pulled the shirt off his back. He was a bit of an easy target thereafter, as, though it was warm, there were precious few shirtless fans in that part of the ground. As Reina went to take a goal kick, someone managed to bounce a pretend bowling ball off his head in response to his writhing about after minimal contact by Chops in a challenge.

So it ended with a defeat, but with a performance that should hearten the fans. The attitude was right, with the players having obviously bee shown an extract from the rules in the players’ handbook from the mid-seventies… 8) Players are instructed that they must not under any circumstances dispute decisions given by the referee. They must at all times be respectful and observe the rulings of officials.

We knocked the ball around with accuracy, pace, and purpose, the confidence of the new boys having spread to the rest of the players. Had Tainio still been on the pitch, I doubt if Torres would have had the space from which to score, and that’s not taking anything away from his replacement Deano’s performance. While we were generally the better side, I won’t moan about being unlucky, despite the ref being very keen to blow in Liverpool’s favour for ninety minutes, because that’s exactly why they paid all that money for Torres. Mind, if I were a Liverpool fan I’d be wanting my money back on Robbie Keane, as he was completely snuffed out by Collins and Noz, and he gelled with Torres about as much as Phil Mitchell’s hair. If we’d had either Keane (R) or Torres, we’d have won the game by a good two goals.

Still, a positive start, and I’m disappointed with the result but not the performance. It might be clear that we’re still short of a left back, centre half, and forward, but it was only the latter that was evident today.

Man of the Match? The defence, I thought, were spot on as a unit, so I’ll give it to their leader, the man of Noztanium.

Are we downhearted? No. well, not until the bus didn’t turn up, leaving us stood on Dundas Street like so many read and white Muppets. I know it’s where my ancestors lived, but it’s not the place to be stood like so many red and white Muppets of a Saturday evening. Eventually we squeezed on the other bus and made it home, all safe for next week’s trip to Spurs.

Keep the faith

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