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Andy's Articles

andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
Hi guys, I've tried to write about Liverpool all my life so just wanted to post something I've written to see what reaction I get. So here goes! By the way, i'm truly sorry Admin guys, if I have in some ways cocked-up trying to post a thread again. Please, if I have, can you amend it for me or something - be much appreciated (Andy).


‘Plastered’
Burnley v Liverpool
31st of August, 2019.

I was not sure where we would see the game and then Deano text me to tell me that we would see it in Davie’s.

When I arrived Davie charmingly said, ‘You’re not welcome’ laughing, reminding me that when I had not been there last week, Liverpool had smashed Arsenal 3-1 and produced a great attacking performance.

I am always lucky enough to see Liverpool’s games with Dean and Davie – lads who also used to have Kop Season tickets and with whom I have shared memorable times with at Anfield. Always the same passion – always the same desire – for Liverpool to make our weekend with a win.

Feeling Davie’s walls – they were smooth as a pint of Worthington’s being poured and felt as flat as I do after another woman, I really like, finishes with me.

For a change, Davie’s three girls were actually not only all in the house together at the same time but lo and behold – all in one spot too. I took the rare opportunity of marching into the kitchen and cwtching the three of them all at once. They loved it, as they crowded around the cake mix bowl. As their laughter died down, I took my seat on Davie’s sofa and found out that United and Chelsea had drawn as I had deliberately avoided seeing any results prior to the 5.30 kick-off. ‘Yes’ I went – always happy when those two drop any points. I did not even bother asking about how City had got on – if they had drawn or lost, I think Dean & Davie would have let me known soon enough.

Burnley away. Dodgy; coming with a Sean Dyche bruising, government health warning. We had to win the battle first before we could play.

The all-blacks with the spotted light green – blue spots, did that though. The defence was immense. Centred around the rock that was UEFA’s newly crowned Player of the Year, Virgil Van Dyke. A man mountain who barked instructions to everyone – especially Adrian, who looked less shaky in goals, resplendent in an all bright green strip. On the left was Andy ‘Robbo’ Robertson and on the right, a snip at nothing – Trent Alexander-Arnold, a midfielder, converted to a full-back; he hardly spent much time defending but when he had to, he was not out-paced; as at last he seems to be back to some level to where he was last season. Joel Matip – an increasingly like Alan Hansen figure – as he glides the ball out of defence and puts a gangly foot in on an attacker – again, bought for nothing. At one point as a player clattered into him, I winced and wondered if he was going to be injured in the same way Joe Gomes had been in December. Due to this Matip had seized his chance – the rest is as they say is history. Matip has just improved every game.

The usual suspects in the middle – Jordan Henderson, Gini Wijnaldum – who rarely gets dropped and Fabinho. Fabinho – my word. He was just back to his beasty best in this game. He broke-up attacks time and again and never wasted the ball. The spine is alive and kicking (just get back Alisson to completely cement it).

Up front was Salah-Firmino-Mane. Is there a better, more-deadlier front three in Europe, never mind the League?

Liverpool were razor sharp. Incisive. Cutting through the home side at every opportunity. The first goal though did not arrive until just after the half-hour mark. Jordan Henderson cut the ball back from just to the left edge of the Burnley area and the ball was crossed in first time by Trent Alexander-Arnold. As I watched it, I saw Salah on the right of Nick Pope’s post and was wondering if he would get his head on it. Then the ball just looped over the right of Nick Pope and he could do nothing about it as it fell into his bottom right hand corner! Tent had scored a superb goal he surely had not meant? We all celebrated with me going ‘Yes!!!’ as loudly and echoingly than normal in the paper-less walls of Davie’s room.

The break-through. So crucial. Pope had already saved them but could only look helplessly as the ball had sailed over him. We all thought it was Trent’s goal. It was not though. It had taken a deflection off the right shoulder of Chris Wood and it had gone down as an ‘oggy’. When Jurgen Klopp, our manager was informed of this later he looked gutted for Trent.

Burnley tried to bruise their way back into the game. ‘They play to their strength’s’ Davie pointed-out, just no messing around and get the ball in the box. Time, time and time again Virgil van Dyke headed the ball away. He is a man-mountain. A colossus to compare with our legendary 1960’s skipper, Ron Yeats. That’s how highly I rate him. Matip too and Fabinho were no slouch’s either. If they were ack-ack guns, they would have shot a squadron of German bombers out of the sky.

Quick, quick, lighting swift thinking and rapier counters. All the time moving slickly through the gears and then Mane had found the net with another low finish and it was 2-0 in the blink of an eye. Superb. Mane, all pace and power and guile and an eye for the precision finish as the ball nestled in the bottom right-hand corner of Pope’s goal. He has scored a few so far this season and I just haven’t been keeping track but you can bet your bottom dollar – Mane has.

Two-nil at the break. More than content with that. Last season we were 1-0 down and had come back to win 3-1. Klopp’s ‘Mentality Monster’s’ showing their fighting qualities – just like they were doing again. They had to.

More tea and more Desperado’s and Dark Fruits Cider for the boys. I’d had more than enough last weekend thank you to last me for a month! Good time though but I love tea and the sweets which we had corralled in a small bowl which Davie and Dean had nearly demolished by the whistle! Sorry guys, you can’t blame the girls as little Kelsey had offered us one of those cakes they had cooked-up as me and Dean reminisced about licking the spoon of the mixtures which went into the cakes our mums used to make – especially my mum with the Christmas cake mix – yum, yum, yum, I can taste it now and smell the cake baking for hours on end in the oven…

Liverpool were straight on it again after the break. It was surely a matter of time of when, not if they would score again. It felt good again to feel like this after those fallow years when we re-wound to four years back and me and Dean quickly shouted out, ‘Balotelli’ and ‘Lambert’ as we scratched our heads as to the third member of the less than successful trio up top. ‘Bor-en-nee’ Davie called from the kitchen. Yes, that was him, Fabio Borini. We collectively shook our heads again. Klopp had totally transformed us from also rans to challengers in only four years and also, lest we forget, to European Cup winners. Remarkable.

Salah was wriggling through. Just inside the area. He had a pass to Bobby to his right. That was the best option. Not the best one for him though as he saw his shot charged down. Bobby would have scored – id have put my house on it the form he is in. A gilt-edged opportunity to almost kill the game stone dead. Bobby just must have tutted and swatted the non-pass aside, possibly in a no-look manner, like scoring one of his tap-ins. ‘The thing is’, as I can hear my dad’s voice, if we contrived to concede and make it 1-2, then it would be a case of colly-wobbles again, just like against Southampton when we did our level best to throw away three points from a commanding position. Salah must surely have recalled that game – just like every other red. Small margins and all that…

Salah was through again within the blink of an eye. He is superb mind and is world class. This time he produced a bit of ball dragging back with his weaker right boot and, and, and with Mane screaming for a pass to the left and in acres of space, Salah elected to again try his luck, with the shot going nowhere near goal.

We were gutted but not as annoyed as Sadio Mane though. He was fuming though he did not show it then, apart from throwing his arms in the air in frustration. We, as fans, do not care who scores (yes – there is a cue there I know and that dreaded other team to be mentioned – Dean and Davie’s Fantasy Ones!!) just so long as Liverpool win – or, try and win, not taking anything at all for granted. Especially me as I am a pessimist not an optimist and even right-up until the final moments of a game I can’t rest. Salah had the chance to put the game almost to bed by passing to Mane and the fact is, he was too selfish not too. However, there have been the odd occasion, when Mane himself has not passed, so horses for courses.

Another attack fortunately quickly followed, spear-headed again by Salah. He ripped through Burnley’s rice paper defence, eating the yards-up like Kelsey devouring the handful of sweets she had grabbed from the bowl and this time, before there was any cause for discussion, Bobby Firmino arrived right on cue like an Exocet missile, and glided the ball into the bottom right hand corner of Nick Pope’s goal to make it 3-0.

It was an exquisite finish from our un-selfish Number Nine. He danced a slow dance on the edge of the area, giving it a few back-ward steps. So cool. Just a man on top of his game since the very first whistle of the season, as one of us said. We are just not the same without him. It was his 50th goal – a unique land-mark for a Brazilian who has played in the Premier League. ‘Si senior, give the ball to Bobby and he will score’ rang out again and again at Turf Moore as in Davie’s living room. He just epitomises everything Jurgen Klopp wants in a player. Brendan Rodgers may have signed him but Jurgen Klopp, as Dean said, has made him.

Is it no wonder, I just shouted a guttural ‘Yes’ which came right from the very depths of me?

Klopp rang the changes and Divock Origi came on and Shaqiri, plus Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain. This was not the story though which the press would no doubt pick-up on, or the fact that Liverpool were cantering towards three precious points or their record 13th League win on the bounce. What would grab the media’s attention was that Mane went off on one, pointing at Jordan Henderson, now sat on the bench – as that is what it looked like to me. We all looked at each other and wondered what the fuss was about and we had an inkling when Bobby put an arm around Mane’s shoulders, and had a word in his ear to try and calm him down.

The nub of it was, that Mane was still seething at Mo, from earlier on, when Mo had not passed to him when he was in a superb position – or that is what we figured. We did not like to see this. In one way it showed just how competitive they all are – the desire to score goals is a burning one. At the end of the day though it is a team game and that is all that matters – no matter how big a player Salah thinks he is.

Finally, we could rest. The lads played out the remainder of the game and very importantly, had not conceded and we were gutted that we had not scored more but if someone had offered us a scrappy 1-0 win before-hand we would have bitten their hands off for it.

As it was, we didn’t expect Burnley to get plastered.

Andy C Legs, 2051words
6/9/19.
 


Broomy

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Enjoyed reading that, well i for one am looking forward to these series of articles, the stories behind 'Andy, Deano and Davies' journey and escapades as ye cheer on the team with your vivid accounts on the road to number seven along with the Premier League title and your recollection of those historic nights and past players... Looking forward to the next instalment Andy!
 

andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
Enjoyed reading that, well i for one am looking forward to these series of articles, the stories behind 'Andy, Deano and Davies' journey and escapades as ye cheer on the team with your vivid accounts on the road to number seven along with the Premier League title and your recollection of those historic nights and past players... Looking forward to the next instalment Andy!
Crumbs, thank you ever so much Broomy. That means a great deal to me.
I have defo got a few more of these to post from this season and the past...
 

Commando

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A great read that Andy. I love reading posters’ accounts of their experiences watching our games. Keep them coming.
 

andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
BLIND REF!

Hi all, I have posted the below non - Liverpool piece but it is about football - right at it's very lowest grass-roots level. Any feedback or any comments whatsoever would be just great! Andy.


Blind Ref!

New Inn v Newport Something

7th September, 2019.

The ref actually sent Niffy off and he was one of a knot of spectators! He was having a terrible game where the inclusion of two pairs of spec savers would not have helped.

At one point he also threatened to give the linesman, New Inn’s recently installed assistant, a yellow card as well. The ref had as much grip on the game as bumbling pm Boris Johnston has on his caving-in Conservative Party.

I had been threatening to go and watch this local side for a while - ever since Ian Rosser (the [email protected]@er as I sometimes call him!) had invited me out to go on the ale with them three years earlier, prior to Liverpool’s collapse in the Europa League Final.

It had been a fun, filled football beary night drinking with these twenty somethings who could in theory at least have been my sons.

So, it was well over-due and what better time than the International Break when I had not had to plan my weekend around Liverpool.

By the time I strolled past the Green Lawn - their drinking den, I could hear shouts; my heart quickened a pace, I may as well have been stuck outside Anfield and had missed kick off. The feeling and desire was the same - to see the game.

The Spurs kitted team were New Inn. They were playing up the bank as I saw it. Against a yellow shirted team from four miles away Newport.

The score was 1-1 and there had been two early strikes. I hoped there would be a winner.

Quickly I was lucky enough to be recognised and greeted by a couple of the spectators and un-used subs. I’d made the right choice - this or a crossword and coffee in Morrisons - there was no contest.

New inn we’re doing ok. Holding their own. My mate Rosser (a red) was playing a sweeper role if you like, in front of the back four which I saw had the diminutive, balding, Mikey in it, whom I’d shared a sing - song with the one - time Rosser had not been around. That had meant a lot.

I soon did not fail to notice the two tall lads in the opposite teams ranks. They were deadly with time on the ball which they often made. Quick as well. And skillfull by dragging the ball back. Though New Inn matched them for skill and touch at times.

The ref though was killing the game. He was a crab and no wonder ‘Niffy’ shouted out that he needed a motorised zimmer to keep up with play.

Half time came and it was muted ‘Why did New Inn go to the changing room and not stay out on the pitch?’ Plans were maybe being hatched or tactical switched perhaps - kloppesque style.

There were no more goals though but there should have been…

Newport missed a sitter of a header as their player put the ball inexplicably wide of New Inn’s keeper’s, right post, from in the area.

Then they blazed over when it was easier to score.

New Inn though should have taken all three points as the ever Duracell, young Ellis on the right wing, crossed a perfect, come and head me ball; the center forward failed to connect when the net should have bulged - it was head in the hands time.

There was still drama aplenty though as a yellow shirt dared to kick out at the man mountain at the back that was Copper. He got his marching orders as did Copper himself!. Just another ludicrous decision by an in-pet ref who was making them by the dozen. It would not have surprised me if he had banned sub Maz for drinking a can of lager, from the sidelines, as he prepared to battle bingo later on with his missus.

I found myself engrossed. Just instinctively shouting all the usuals like ‘Get in there’ as a fifty fifty was fuelled like Jordan Henderson battling with Fernandinho - as I may as well have been at Anfield, as my passion for the game came out - yet again proving I love it no matter what the circumstances, or how big or small the venue.

Rosser had come off and Bobby Certies came on for a cameo role - another older head at thirty plus, plus something. We all shook our heads just how he never got a card as he tackled with Roy Keane wild abandonment - still showing fighting zeal flowed through his veins and loins.

I was gutted when it suddenly ended. A tad lost to be honest. There is and never will be anything like watching live football. To quote ‘The Beautiful South’ Champions League’ ditty, ‘From Ninian, to Somerton, to Sebas, to Villa Park and Anfield, anywhere at all, even - New -- Inn’, as my near 40 year watching football odyssey could be written….

This time the ref had not been punched out like he had been a while ago - for all his faults; without his presence the game would never have been played - it was touching that Rosser patted him caringly on the back at the whistle – mind, it was surprising that he had seen where it was to have blown-it!

8/9/19
880
 



andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
Hi, I have tried to write an account of yesterdays game - be just great if someone reads it!

‘Rusty Reds’
Liverpool v Newcastle United
14th of September, 2019.

Davie greeted me, wearing the home top. ‘Looks good on you mate’ I said, still contemplating getting it. ‘Not bad for thirty spondollies’ he said, as he opened the door to the living room.

The room had been painted, all light and dark grey walls and it looked very clean. ‘It’s not finished, yet’ Carly said. It had been just plastered walls before the annoying International break.

Now, thankfully, real football was back.

Settling down, after handing Davie some more sweets, to put into the pot, I tried to get the full team out of him and Deano as they fiddled with the electronics, after Deano had in-excusably not put his computer on charge! Boy, did Davie give him some stick for that – he’d had two weeks to make sure!!

‘Sorry Crouch’, Davie apologised to me, after I had asked what the team was. ‘The usual back five and the Ox, Fab and Gini, with Mane and Salah and Origi’. I thought it was a strong line-up but we are just not the same without ‘Bobby’ who was for a change, being rested.

Newcastle, ‘The Barcodes’ as someone had funnily posted on the TIA Forum, were the visitors – we were something ridiculous like 19-1 on to win. That image of Mirandinha celebrating in front of the Kop, in 1988, had flashed through my head at one point, when they had beaten us 2-1 in 1988-89. It proved that nothing was ever 100 per-cent solid gold certain (or was it just the pessimist was naturally coming out in me?).

The Geordies had not read the script. Much as I am struggling to type this, for some reason, trying to find my rhythm, Liverpool, despite having won the toss, failed to kick into theirs. Lethargic is not a word we have come to associate with Klopp’s Liverpool but we seemed to be, in the opening exchanges. ‘Rusty’ one of us said.

Me and Dean had looked at each other, with slight alarm. Mis-placed passes by Fabinho were as rare as an Australian batting collapse but the Brazilian was not at his Braziliant best and he wasn’t the only one.

Willems, all-of-a-sudden, got free on the edge of our box; Trent failed to push him to the right, as Dean later pointed out and I knew as soon as the ball left his boot, it was a goal. Adrian could do nothing about it as the ball flew past his left shoulder, into the top corner. A fabulous strike but one which should have been prevented. Still there are questions about Trent’s defending – as fabulous as he is at creating.

The old cliché came out that we had most of the game to come back; to come back and hopefully win. Win. Win. Win. Anything short of that and we would suddenly, be praying that whoever City were playing would do us a favour – as if that other team thought of us at all!

More grabbing of sweets which were rapidly going down, as quickly as I was sinking the tea, which I had read is supposed to help you improve your memory. ‘I’m ok then’ Dean said, ‘as I drink it all the time’.

Our minds cast us back to Spurs. Where we had known that ‘The Geordies’ had shut-up shop after taking a similar, precious one-nil lead and despite Spurs throwing the kitchen sink at them, they had won, 1-0.

The goal though finally woke the reds-up. They moved slickly through the gears, blowing the two- week old cobwebs off and advanced menacingly with Mane showing how to break them down with a little piece of skill to get behind them on our right. ‘That’s the answer!’ I shouted, as though being Klopp’s assistant on the side-lines, in the extended bench with the extra seats behind a frustrated and angry Jurgen.

Then again, we went down that side and again. Pulling Newcastle this way and that. Then Mane went on the other side and switched sometime with Origi. The red wave was finally crashing and we had all the possession but this time looked as though we could do something with it.

Origi had valiantly kept the ball in play on the touchline and had slid on the tram-line. It seemed innocuous but soon he had to leave. Onto the pitch came that man Bobby Firmino and he was serenaded even before he had touched the ball. Quickly he made his presence felt by uniquely, for a supposed center-forward, biting into challenges and winning midfield duels Souness would’ve been proud of.

The ball came into the box from our left and surely Matip was being pushed and man-handled to prevent him getting a head on it? Cries of ‘Penalty!’ echoed from the room, through the tv screen, to the disbelieving reds in the ground. A stone-waller.

Enraged by not getting the decision, Liverpool attacked with even more vim. Robertson was involved before Mane lashed the ball straight past Dubrovnik’s left shoulder, for it to smash straight into the top corner of the Kop net. A lightning strike, by a player on top of his game.
We all breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully history would not repeat itself as that image of Mirandinha began to fade somewhat.

Liverpool now were rattled. On a mission. On their game and somehow, they extended, exerted, their efforts – upped-their game, with even more attacking zeal as the Kop roared them on, trying to suck the ball into the net like days of yore (or even Barcelonaesque night times).

‘Come on!’ I shouted, with everything I had. Just desperate for them to score whilst they were so much on top.

Bobby played in Mane and it looked as though Dubravka would get his hands on the ball but Mane, I thought, tricked him and somehow dinked the ball over his advancing body, like a golfing chip shot, and had the easy task of firing the ball into the empty net from almost on the goal-line. It was a simple mistake by the keeper. What did we care though as we just celebrated almost in shock – at first not registering what had happened, but ‘we’d take it!’.

A 2-1 lead at the break to the rusty reds but now resurgent reds. That was more like it.

Jamie came and he laid out his folder of carpet samples. That was almost going to be the last touches. Light grey sofa with what I thought orange curtains. ‘Mustard, Crouch’ Carly corrected me and now she chose dark grey, thick carpet for that side of the room. We all three of us heard the figure Jamie said, three hundred plus notes and that included under-lay too, with Jamie fitting it. It was a case of who you know – not what you know as Jamie is married to Davie’s sister. I did not fail to notice that his two young lads had Cardiff City – nope, Newport County – nope but Liverpool tops on. ‘Good lads’ I thought – they are the next generation of reds.

Due to Jamie’s presence, the tea which Davie had brewed at the break had been left in the kitchen and when it was finally brought in and put on the side, Deano light-heartedly moaned at Davie that it was not scolding hot – as he likes it, because within seconds, like a blinding Bobby back-heel in the blink of an eye, Deano gulps it down!

Jamie was still there when the second-half kicked-off. The reds could not have heard the whistle as they again gifted Newcastle a perfect opportunity to draw level and un-do all the great work they had put-in to not only get level but take the lead and suffocate the visitors thereafter, as Atsu flashed a free header wide of Adrian’s left post.

Me and Dean both looked in disgust – quite what Klopp thought was anyone’s guess. It was a warning though that the game was still on a knife-edge.

Liverpool battered them. If it was a boxing match, by 70 minutes the ref would have called time. Every time Liverpool had the ball, they created a chance. It was getting frustrating and a tad worrying to watch as me and Dean said that all it took was one goal by Newcastle and we would be up against it - again.

Robertson missed an open-goal. Or, at least I thought he had but the replays showed that Dubravka had got a bit on his shot to deflect it for a corner. Bobby had put him through after more one-touch passage of play which would not have been out of place on one of those old- fashioned arcade football button machines. It was surreal. A joy to watch but tinged with agony and frustration that there was no end product.

Then Bobby ended the game in two seconds flat with a piece of skill which should be showed over and over again. Somehow, he dragged the ball back with the bottom of his right foot and flicked it across to his left to the hungry Salah who managed to evade two challenges in a blur, to smash the ball into the bottom left-hand corner of Dubravka’s net, to make it 3-1 to the reds.

Just prior to the goal, Carly said, as though on que, the Kop had begun to sing his, ‘James’ song and now, even little six-year-old Kelsey, was singing the same song as I recovered from roaring a ‘Yeahs!’, which could have been heard half-way down the road and hopefully, at least, in the one house next door, where a Manc lives! (on the right side is a red and sometimes he has not been able to bear to watch us but can tell how we are doing by the noise emanating from Davie’s house!!).

They kept on it. On their guard. Their foot on the gas but now playing in third gear as Van Dyke snuffed out any danger from a rare attack down our left. Matip had been excellent too. ‘Han-sen’ Dean had quietly breathed that name in my direction. It was the greatest compliment the German/African could ever have. Shaqiri came on for a cameo as Gini was finally rested, as did Milner. What a bench we have these days…

Near the end I we thought that Mane had scored a deserved hat-trick as Bobby got beyond the last man on the right of the Geordies area and squared the ball across to Sadio, who gleefully lashed the ball home. I celebrated. Then I realised I had broken my golden rule of not making sure a linesman’s flag had not been raised - which it had (years ago I’d celebrated wildly as ‘Rushie’ had scored yet again against Everton without checking the linesman first, who’d called offside. Very rarely do I not check now in a split-second, just to be on the safe side).

‘It was a joy to watch’ Dean summed – up, as we prepared to leave.

I wonder what else will be there the next time we come into the living room – if Davie has his way, maybe a ‘This Is Anfield’ sign!

14/9/19 Andy C Legs 1869
 

Broomy

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Enjoyed reading that article Andy, these are the match reports i'll be returning to read again come the end of the season, brilliant mate, can't wait to read more of your articles from Davies house following our upcoming matches with Napoli and Chelsea!
 

Commando

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Great read again @andyclegs. I think I'm going to rival Mrs CDO's love of the soaps in the way I'll be waiting for your match reports. The visits to Dave's front room will be looked forward to not as much for the post match report, but just as much to find out how the decorating is going on. We'll be hanging on with bated breath to see if Carly will serve some Hobnobs with the teas. Will the tea be hot enough for Deano?

Keep them coming. (y)
 



andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
I am firstly just glad that anyone took time out to have a read of my Rusty Reds - it means a lot. Never mind the encouraging, replies....Just fantastic, thank you ever so much... The credit all goes to my mates who are as mad on LFC as I am!!!! Andy
 

andyclegs

Andy C Legs
Joined
Aug 22, 2019
Messages
109
Hi, I am just going to post this and if anyone reads it then just great! Any feedback at all would be brilliant. Cheers, Andy.
Avon Calling

Napoli v Liverpool

17th of September, 2019

I was having a nap after tea - as you do. Then I heard something drop through my letter box. It was a package of some sort. Instantly I thought that it was that book on Cardiff City, I’d bought off Amazon.

Before anyone complains (quite rightly!! Lol), let me explain, as I have been researching about my second cousin, Leighton Phillips, who played for ‘The Bluebirds’ from 1967-1974 and I have been gathering as much info as I can on his career - hence the book (by the way, Phillips very nearly became a Liverpool player – I kid you not).

So, I got up in anticipation, wanting to add to my 18 pages I’ve already written on his 16 - year career and I hoped the noise would herald more stories about that mid 60’s - 70’s time. However, I was gutted but extremely lucky.

It was ‘Avon’ that had dropped a catalogue onto my mat - I don’t currently have a missus of any description and as I ‘tutted’ I turned to see that some dozy idiot - ME - had only left the bleeding gas hob on, with a saucepan on top!! (an OMG moment!).

That’s why I was lucky – but I did not realise it at the time though that I had used up all my and Liverpool’s luck up for the day, in one fell swoop….


That was never a penalty. Andy Robertson got to the ball first and Jose Callejon who called himself a footballer but is really an actor and who should win an inaugural Balon d’oscar trophy, deliberately fell over.

The three of us, me, Deano and Davie, were up in arms - turning the air bitter ‘Ever-tun’ blue.

Up to that point, with me having made the early cuppa for me and Deano, as Davie and Jamie were sweating their cobblers off delivering their old sofa to Tom’s - Carly’s brother’s, we thought the reds had been playing quite well. (Tom for the record is also a red and once sported a t-shirt with Fergie having to call a helpline ‘1-4 1-4 1-4’ which made me chuckle in 2008 after Torres had destroyed Vidic).

Roberto Firmino had put a clear header wide of the Meret’s left post when it would have been easier to score.

Adrian, who looked more composed than at any time, had not only made a close-range double-save, but early in the second half, then produced a breath-taking, acrobatic, nimble, one-handed save at his left near post to win our plaudits - his best saves to date for us, by a country mile.

Sadio Mane had shown there was no volcanic seismic plate rift between him and Mo Salah, for when Mane skipped forward on the break he elected to pass to Salah on his left, instead of running on and being selfish. Salah though did not make the most of the opportunity, as the ball slipped away from his grasp.

‘He should have went on his own!’ Davie exhorted to Mane, now having changed into his new home top.

Mo Salah had though, been alert enough on the press and his presence may have forced sloppy play on the right edge of the Napoli area and he was onto the ball in a flash. Bearing down on Meret, at his right near post, Salah saw his rapier strike saved by the prostrate Meret, who managed to steer the ball to his left. A clear a chance as we had all night.

Several times though, as we now sat on the comfortable table chairs usually reserved for the other side of the room, where ‘Fudge’ was often commanded to get to her ‘Bag’ - obeyed obediently and immediately by Davie but not usually so by Carly, we debated whether a change was required up top.

‘Leave it for seventy minutes’ I’d said, hoping we would click slickly and glad we were playing ten times better than the shambolic way we had played there last season.

Gini Wijnaldum was on and James Milner was off - having picked up a yellow. It looked to me as though Gini was playing up top at times - the positions he was taking up.

As soon as Llorente came on I knew who he was - even with my limited knowledge of other teams, especially European ones and we all thought the same thing with Deano coming out with it; ‘He’ll be out for revenge’ as he had played for Spurs in Madrid. It would as usual prove a prophetic statement from Deano.

By about 9.30 Carly came home and if she did. It was the worst time to come back to a testosterone filled house as Virgil van Dyke? Andy Robertson? Adrian? or a combination of all three - had a defensive lapse and presented Llorente with a simple tap in, to make it 2-0.

Shaking of the heads as Carly made a cuppa and tried to relax - some chance though as we were all gutted by a score line Liverpool did not deserve.

Xheridan Shaqiri came on but with less than ten to play but what sort of impact had Jurgen Klopp expected him to make? I like Shaqiri, but he is no miracle worker.

At least the new sofa was going to be delivered, next week, as Deano complained about a bad back! It’s coming after one of the three girls - who were all there for a change, were going to have a sleep-over. Maybe by then Kayla - the oldest, will have an up and running mobile life again, because Deano had spent most of the first half trying to re-programme her phone after it plunged in some water.

By then, hopefully Lady Luck will have shone on Kayla and Liverpool; not some dozy twonk, who had earlier, nearly burnt his house down…

18/9/19 989