Some Liverpool fans are looking to channel anger towards Manchester City in Anfield on Sunday, but for others there are conflicting feelings…
AM I SUPPOSED to be motivated by this?
Should I be so vexed by the events of the past two weeks that I bounce into Anfield on Sunday?
I’m far from it. My bounce is more of a trudge. I’ll rock up and see what greets me, because for the first time in a long time I’m uncertain.
Manchester City’s drama is now my business. All of our business. We all need to read the statements, listen to the legal experts, and shake our heads at Andy Burnham’s inescapable Evertonianism.
A lot of people welcome this into their lives. They are fuelled by the verdict and can’t wait for Sunday. They’re right to feel incensed and conned by City’s ownership. They should be in disbelief at those encouraging City to burn the Premier League to the ground rather than succumb to sanctions.
Eventually Burnham, City supporters, and whoever else is still directly or indirectly fighting their corner, will see that this issue poses an existential threat to football in this country and that they should rally behind saving it. I genuinely believe this is where we end up here.
But, back to me. The fella who cannot extrapolate any joy, rage or general sense of feeling towards this entire thing. I’m tired of it. Tired by it. It’s excruciating for one key reason:
I just want to watch football.
That’s where I’m at my most irrational but also my most informed. Football is my wheelhouse. Getting to see the best on the planet do it in our corner of earth is a genuine gift.
If Sunday was about two of the best sides in the country going at it without any of City’s discrepancies attached, you had best believe I’d be motivated. Best believe I’d be bouncing.
The thing I’m pissed off about the most is that City’s guilty verdict makes a sham of the rivalry. It taints some of the greatest games of football I’ve seen. It makes me more angry that the legacy of what I watched is now disingenuous.
Liverpool did nothing wrong. The memory of Jürgen Klopp’s team has warmed considerably in recent days. That they and everyone else have had their name dragged into such a shitshow is regrettable.
I wanted City to be pure. I wanted to be beaten by the best side the Premier League has ever seen, with a manager who will go down as one of the all-time greats. I want them to be assembled fairly, because even though it hurts looking back, you can still shrug at how lucky you were to see an elite rivalry in which both sides clearly drove each other.
There’s been some recent Anfield Wrap shows about what we want from our football club. I’ve enjoyed them and been reminded of how complex and entangled the concept of togetherness is when engaging in supporting a major club.
The past two weeks have challenged me to think about what I want from football. I want to see the best players on the planet, but at what cost? Diplomatic threats and the potential liquidation of the football clubs they acquire?
Surely there’s a middle ground that exists between having the best league in the world and supporters and governments being financially blackmailed as a result. It feels too risky, even if the reward is trophies and success.
Ultimately, I just want to watch the game and ponder how Liverpool can be great again without feeling the need to shower every time I do.
I suppose that’s what made Klopp’s teams so special. They were human to a fault. They oozed authenticity and honesty. From lactate tests to lie detectors, his Liverpool team passed with flying colours.
So, what does this all mean for Sunday? There’s a world where City take a game away from Liverpool through bad officiating, a lack of fit players on our part, or them just being better.
How much any City result is accepted by football is the question nobody can answer. How do Anfield, Villa Park, The City Ground and everywhere else react when a sense of darker forces being at play is now proven?
This – like the entire episode – feels too big to ponder. I don’t want to think about commercial revenues in a football stadium. I want to encourage my team and vilify the opposition and referee because football is what matters.
I will get behind the lads in Red, as is the minimum requirement for anyone fortunate enough to enter Anfield. As for the opposition, I’m tired, bored and confused by the sight of them already.
Worst of all, I’ve got no idea how that leaves me feeling towards a game I’ve been so certain about my entire life.
I need to find my bounce.
