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18-16 and the Gap’s Closing Rafa…

fans viewsPaul's new article is more of a rant this week at his general loathing for Liverpool Football Club.

Sunday, the Sabbath, the day of rest that even the Lord took off (not that he exists, but that’s a whole other article). Sunday evokes large papers, fuzzy heads and dry mouth from the night before, maybe even horror as you wake up to whatever dinosaur you brought home for a drunken embrace but mainly, relaxation, your mum plopping Britain’s finest in front of you with Yorkshire puds and loads of gravy… Ahh, Sundays…

NOT THIS SUNDAY! SUPER-DUPER-F*CK-ME-IT’S-GREAT-SUNDAY was on instead, and with it my ultimate favourite game on the calendar, Liverpool at Anfield. Now don’t get me wrong, I hate Leeds, as far back as they are from us at the moment, despise Man City (there’ll be some noise when their particular bubble bursts) absolutely loathe Arsenal and Chelsea but there is something particularly hateful and generally horrible about Liverpool FC, their support, their whole attitude.

 I can count on one hand the Liverpool fans I know that are alright, ok to talk to. Fair enough, I don’t know every Liverpool fan in the country, and I don’t really do generalisations, so I’ll put my tarring brush away for now. What I do dislike is the gross hypocrisy Liverpool fans show. They stand there with their arms outstretched, plunging imaginary planes into the ground with gleeful faces, then demand we stand in requiem, in silent homage to the Liverpool fans lost at Hillsborough. Now, don’t get me wrong, no-one should die at a football match, ever (except the referee sometimes-that’s a joke by the way), but to demand our respect when they show none of their own makes me laugh in incredulity. I still give it, as like I said no-one should die at a football match, but take a look at yourselves and think about what you’re doing. On a United message board the other day, a Liverpool fan was bemoaning the fact that if it weren’t for the European ban in the 80’s that Liverpool would have reached five European cups a lot sooner. Hello? You dickhead, it was your fans’ actions, with of course Italian fans taking some culpability, that got us the ban in that crumbling stadium at Heysel! Did you not reach those finals that were so obviously for you earlier did you not? Tough shit.

 As you can tell, I’m not fond of Liverpool FC, for myriad reasons. And so it was I watched the game, nearly ripping my fingers off as I wringed them in the second half. In fact, second half, I was distraught that we wouldn’t keep the ball, distraught that Rooney didn’t take a touch, distraught that Edwin wanted to play at centre-half. Looking back now away from the live atmosphere and tension, Liverpool were offering nothing except pumping balls into the box, typical really. The goal was well worked if not laced with some fortune, and we sat strong and deep, and broke when expedient. My crazy love for Anderson grows with every performance, and Rio, when he takes his jeans off later and shakes the pockets out will probably find a crying Fernando Torres tumbling out. People would say it wasn’t pretty, but winning at Anfield, for me, is the most beautiful thing in the world. Last year, after being run ragged and dealing with Scholesy’s phantom punch, John O’Shea prodded in the late winner and the biggest black dude I’d ever seen picked me up and carried me around the pub, both dancing like mad. Beating Liverpool is amazing, at Anfield it is sooo sweet, especially when they show the deluded, despondent Scousers in the crowd; their expression, their pain, it’s just delicious, as is the fact that we’ve now not lost at Anfield for six years.

 It’s also pleasant that we once again have exposed the delusions surrounding Liverpool. Boys, you’re shite. They have, at best, two world-class players, no team spirit, and they need to do some serious dead-wood cutting, a bit like United did in summers past (Kleberson, Djemba-Djemba Bellion anyone?) The fact that they were the worst team to ever win the European Cup (2005) seems to not have sunk in, presumably due to “Special European Nights” at Anfield enjoyed by all and sundry, papering over the cracks. Also, the backing of Benitez is frankly baffling; in fact, it is as baffling as his decision to grow a goatee. If you threw a pink fur jacket around him and some bling he’d look like a Madrid pimp-a particularly rotund and boring looking pimp, but a pimp all the same.

 Also humorous is the way their American owners are backstepping away from them like one would from an unhinged axe murderer, gingerly trying to escape out of the door without him noticing. Their new stadium has been scaled back, and there’s no money in January. It would seem that I, and no doubt many other Manchester United fans, stand to enjoy Liverpool once again flailing and drowning themselves in a vast sea of mediocrity for the foreseeable future, and that it fantastic. A certain Mr Ferguson keeps mentioning the old 18-16 scoreline on league titles, and it would seem he intends to hang about as long as it takes to overhaul our North-West rivals. Fergie, you’ve already “knocked them off their fucking perch”, but do hang around long enough to really finish the job.

 Anyhow, I seem to have ranted slightly there, and I don’t really do that. Divorce the game from the hype and yes, it is a good three points in the bag as we move into the hectic Christmas period, which culminates with a tasty FA Cup tie at Villa on the 5th January. This is one of the most, if not the most, exciting team I have seen at Man United, and it’s youth and vigour bodes well for the future. It’s the Blue Scousers on Saturday and, while they certainly have the capacity for an upset, I’m banking on a United win.

 

Come on United

 

Paul M

 

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