WORSE than a defeat. Come here Luis. Talk to me.

Worse than a defeat.


Blaming the centre-halves is basic. Beyond basic. A deflection. A break. And then Skrtel pushes out because no one is holding mid. Why is no one holding mid?

Martin Skrtel was brilliant tonight.

(Fucking jump on his back Coutinho. Jump on his fucking back.)

Football - FA Premier League - Crystal Palace FC v Liverpool FC

That said, no one has let anyone down. If anyone has let anyone down, no one has let anyone down. Look at those Reds. The Trickiest Reds you’ve seen. Say that to my face. Say that to anyone’s face. This is the first time since Liverpool last won the league they go into the last day of the season with the league either won or able to be won.

Bleating about the manner of the play that brought Liverpool here is:

a) Wrong
b) Plain fucking inaccurate in this instance. Soz abar the facts.

It was, till 80, a faultless second half. Johnson, Allen and Sturridge in the second 45 were terrific. The business.

If there’s a criticism, a weakness, put a block in when it goes 1-3. The lads are there to do it. The lads to put that block in are there themselves.

Such a shame when the performance had been what it was. Such a shame.

But put Luis Suarez in my arms. And I’ll say this. 2-3, we need a favour. 12-0 wouldn’t be enough. 3-3, we need a slightly bigger favour.

Come here Luis. 2-3 is closer to 3-3 than it was to 0-6. I promise you that. You went and caught the ball because you know that gorgeous. And you were a wave, an endless wave, because you all know that.

You all know that.

This weekend at Sound City Married To The Sea sang a song and it made me think of all this. It goes:

Come on, I wanna dance to the music in your head

Viva! Viva!

A hopeless romance.

The issue is we’ve made the music in City’s head easier. Smooth.

There’s only one romance in these parts. And nothing is easy. Nothing. Is it hopeless, is it brilliant?

Come here Luis. It hurts. Christ knows it hurts. You think it hurts? I was nine since we last won the league. Nine. Walk around the pain.

The quantative difference is, in real terms, this – a draw vs a defeat for City. It is minute. 2-3 vs 3-3. Minute.

This is a brilliant romance. I’ve seen brilliant romances. At the cinema. Some end up with the woman getting on the plane and you ending up with Claude Rains. Some end up with a Jim Carrey shrug and an acceptance of brilliant defeat.

And in some, you get the girl. You neck her. You neck her.

Sound City I told the people I left with these words:

“We meet again as Champions. We meet again as Champions.”

A kiss. A cuddle.

We meet again as Champions.

Come here you. Come here Luis. We meet again as Champions.

Come and dance to the music in my head.

Viva! Viva!


Pics: David Rawcliffe / Propaganda