ANFIELD is a special place although today was not the most intensity from the crowd. More like afternoon tea – Jurgen Klopp, May 8, 2016

I’ll give you that one, Kloppo, you have got me bang to rights there. In fairness, I was pretty distracted by external unrelated factors.

For a kick off, when I got in the ground and sat down something didn’t feel right. For ages I put it down to my summer kecks being a bit tight seeing as though this was their first wear since last September, but right after Joe Allen’s goal I figured out that my seat was broken. Not broken in a ‘I can’t sit in this seat because it is broken’ kind of a way, more just slightly broken so it tilted a bit, putting a ridiculous amount of pressure on my toes which had to pick up the slack because of the lack of leg room. It was like some kind of positional pressure point torture move that gave me cramp in both big toes.

I then noticed that some of the seats had been fitted in the new dead high bit of the Main Stand and I couldn’t stop thinking about my mate and a conversation we had had on the way to the match when the first sections of the steel frame of said stand were being built last year. I won’t tell you his name for fear of him being ostracised by his family, sacked and possibly made to live in St Helens.

The conversation went something like this:

*Getting out of the taxi by the ground*

Me: “Fucking hell, look at the size of that — it’s going to be massive, isn’t it? I can’t believe how far away from the back of the existing stand it is. It is going to be some stand that.”

He who must not be named: “No, no, what it is lads, they are going to build it behind the existing stand and then at the end of the season they are going to knock down the old stand and push it into place.”


“No, I read it somewhere — they are building it on wheels. Seriously. What are you laughing at? How else are they going to do it then? Fuck off.”

You can imagine the remainder of the conversation.

The red seats 94, 95, and 96 of row 27 of the Main Stand at Anfield.

I often wonder what type of wheel he thought they had specified to enable the largest single sports ground stand in the county to be pushed into place. My favourite is that a million shopping trolley wheels where going to be used and we would have to put a couple of red lines on Anfield Road and Walton Breck Road like the one in the Smithdown Road Asda that locks the wheel if you go over it to stop people from taking the trolleys home. Just in case a million Bluenoses tried to rob the stand in the middle of the night.

I also wonder how he thought it would be moved. I mean, if you allow the fact that a suitable wheel was sourced, how on earth would it actually be moved? What level of force would be required to overcome the weight of the thing to allow it to be pushed into place? Would we be seeing an advertisement in the jobs section of the Thursday Echo around about now, requesting 1,000-plus strong men and women to commit to a bloody good push, sometime in the summer? It’s a zero hours contract unfortunately as we haven’t got a clue how long this is going to take; must be willing to be whipped, by an overzealous foreman who has got a deadline to meet and work until you die. For inspiration or an idea of the working conditions think Egyptian pyramid builders.

Or maybe the wheel system developed for the process is so efficient it is like a byfold door off of Kev McCloud’s Grand Designs that can be opened with one finger.

Anyway Kloppo, see what I mean, give me a break, eh?

From what I remember of the game that must have subconsciously drifted into my brain while I thought about the above, Sheyi Ojo is going to be some player, isn’t he? I know I keep banging on, but he just seems to have something about him. Whenever I watch him play I’m always reminded of a quote from season four of The Wire when Marlo and his muscle and second in command Chris Partlow, say that Michael, a young kid they are effectively teaching to kill people, has got big paws for a puppy.

Big paws on a puppy, to be exact — it fits doesn’t it? He is so evidently learning as he goes but he has just got it, whatever it is — star quality, the ability to make something happen, end product. He has got it. I’d back him all day long to be a superstar in a few years, no bother. Contrast him with Jordon Ibe who looks to have all the attributes, and maybe a better understanding of what is required from him, but looks shorn of confidence or the ability to make a decision. He is currently taking five touches when two or one will do and unfortunately looks like he might need to go somewhere else to learn how to impact on a game. A year-long loan deal might suit both parties. Whatever happens he needs to learn how to be decisive and to also enjoy himself. Tiny paws on a fuck off big Doberman as it stands.

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND - Sunday, May 8, 2016: Liverpool's Joe Allen in action against Watford during the Premier League match at Anfield. (Pic by David Rawcliffe/Propaganda)

Not much else happened really. Joe Allen’s hair was lovely. I found myself wondering what shampoo he used. Martin Skrtel played well, I found myself wondering what shampoo he used and why he pretended to be a baldy for years while also hoping that this was the last time I would see him at Anfield. Soz, Martin, that might come across as a bit harsh…you can come and try to push a giant big stand in the summer if you want before you get off to Turkey. Pretend it is one of their players in the box, maybe?

The game was fizzling out and my toes were starting to cramp up again when the third substitution was made. I turned around to look at the new scoreboard to see how long was left when I noticed it also displays the substitution, who is going off and who is coming on. Nice, I thought, except my head was battered for a bit as the scoreboard was saying that we were bringing on someone called Connor. I thought we had signed a mad Brazilian with an English name, like Fred, and got dead excited until I realised it was only showing the players’ first names and we were bringing on Connor Randall for fuck’s sake.

Can someone at the club please explain why we have got an over-familiar scoreboard who thinks it is best mates with all the players, like some kind of bad ming? Why would anyone think this is acceptable? Was this a one off or was this normal practice? We need — and demand answers — and we want them now. That said, it will be boss when Hendo returns and comes on for Ibe in a big Jordan for Jordan off.

Hopefully by the time Chelsea get here on Wednesday night all of their lads will have heard about our new magical giant stand that is built on wheels without foundations and will be too busy wondering how it works and worrying that someone might take the handbrake off to concentrate on the footy. Hopefully the Reds give them a good hiding and depart for Basel in good spirits (West Brom doesn’t count). Hopefully they will have fixed my seat so my toes can have the night off. Hopefully someone somewhere will have sat my mate down and explained the difficulties in building a stand on wheels, the consequences of not having foundations and the Health and Safety at Work Act, which prohibits staff members from dying from exhaustion.

Hopefully the Reds can win the cup.

Up the first-name, cup-winning, magical stand Reds.