Liverpool proved they’re more on the beach than their seaside opposition, but The Reds date with destiny move into full focus…
SUCH a weird time.
I’ve read various adages about the last few weeks. That it’s been like being expected to go back to school even though the exams are over. That it’s like the strange week between Christmas and New Year and you’ve just got to get through it with whatever alcohol and carbohydrates you’ve got left before normality ends. You’re still celebrating but the main wave has passed.
The Champions are still in celebratory mode.
Certainly, the mood post-Spurs suggests that. If they could, the players should be able to swig from bottles of whatever whenever there’s a throw-in or even carry around them during the game. Put them behind the goal before corners.
At least that would explain the defending for the third Brighton goal.
Ah, no matter. No one cares. Well, I do a bit, but the war is over. This is just the homecoming. This is bringing games into school every day instead of learning Base Five. The teacher’s wearing jeans and a Ramones t-shirt and everything.
I love that Arne Slot said motivation is tricky. Of course it is. I love that he didn’t lie and peddle some nonsense about ruthless focus and professionalism. He was just honest. I doubt he’s worn socks for weeks. We’ve just won the league.
It’s not nice losing, though. That rankles a bit. Sorry. Just me. (I mean, it’s not but…)
More than anything, though, I’m made up that it’s Crystal Palace who are with us on Sunday. I’ve written before about my admiration for their fans and their culture of singing only about themselves, rather than indulging in tiresome badinage with the stands around them. It’s nice not to be faced with a sneery, snide support on ours and their big day.
Sadly, they’ve also begun a habit of beating us at Anfield such as Gerrard’s last game and we can’t be having any of that. That said, my abiding memory of that day was when Stevie broke away from our end of the ground and ran over to applaud them for staying behind and clapping him. I love moments like that. Respect.
Soul.
I’m here for the soul of the game, not the banter flags, stats and conspiracies. I’m here for the essence. I want to be with fans who recognise just how unlikely victory is and hold it close when it finally arrives.
I’ve written too about a mate called Matt who’s supported Palace for half a century. About 15 years ago, I introduced him to another Matt who’s supported Wigan for a similar period. They got on, drank a series of cold drinks and haven’t met since. On Saturday night, Matt Wigan texted: ‘Congratulate Matt Palace for me’.
He too has had an unexpected FA Cup final win. These are people who recognise the fleeting nature of utopia.
These are lovely times.
Like the time when Toulouse visited us at Anfield in 2007 when they sang throughout despite being battered 4-0. At the end, when we knocked in two late goals, The Kop sang along with their song too (mostly vowel based). Some even trying to match the accent, unwisely in many cases.
I just wish we’d beaten Chelsea, Arsenal and Brighton. I like winning stuff. I know, I know, it’s my problem. I’ll deal with it.
One last Christmas dinner to go. Then it’s all about transfers, release clauses, tracking planes and poring over fixture lists. Then the tension creeps in again.
One more game, one more trophy lift. The main one too. It’ll always be the main one.
Hold onto it. This is the time you’ll remember the most. This is where soul comes in. Hold it to yourself. Don’t celebrate it against a foe. Hold it for us. Hold it for you. Squeeze everything out of it.
One last all day party and a hungover parade.
Champions.
