The Long Farewell
Can you imagine what this game would look like if it actually mattered?
That was the question that ran through my mind throughout the match. Yes, it was nice to see the Reds with smiles on their faces, smiles that have been so desperately missing in the godawful recent run of form that cost no less than three potential trophies. Yes, it was good to see Liverpool scoring with abandon again from open play. And yes, winning always feel better than losing.
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Still, this game and the two others that are left are mostly meaningless. Not just because the season is over for Liverpool, and the team’s third place finish is cemented, but also because as soon as Wolves go home in a couple of weeks, this entire team – the squad and the staff – are due for massive changes.
After a fashion, the match today was emblematic of the last month. Liverpool dominated and were well on their way towards a historic thumping, then the team lost its mind. Had Spurs found their way back to equalize, it would have perhaps been even more fitting, but you could still see the template forming. One of those moments was Salah’s careless, Nunezesque miss from three yards. It was amusing because it didn’t matter, but if it did matter, I’m not sure we would be laughing it off in quite the same way. There were other, similar moments. The problem, of course, is that it did matter against Palace and Atalanta, the Hammers and United… the loss to Everton was deserved, yet I’m not sure if we would have looked so terrible had that game not come on the back of a shambolic run.
You get the point.
It’s easy to laugh this stuff off when you’ve already let the house burn down.
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Salah did score before Spurs staged that mini-comeback, a header of all things, as did Gakpo who was very good today. Robbo got one that even he couldn’t miss, but the goal of the day surely goes to Harvey Elliott, whose thundering curler from 20 yards out put an exclamation mark on his man-of-the-match performance. It really is hard not to give it to him, although for long stretches my choice was Quansah in back, who had a terrific game and hardly put a foot wrong against otherwise tricky opposition.
I realize it isn’t over yet, but my column is done for the season on account of international travel that will prohibit me from watching the games live, a key element of writing this column.
Jurgen Klopp, it was a blast having you around. Thank you for everything you’ve given us, including – finally! – that premier league title that has eluded us forever. When you said you were the “normal one” in that famous press conference, I don’t think any of us could quite appreciate just how abnormal everything would feel from that point onwards. I was lucky enough to become a fan during the Paisley era; I feel just as lucky to have been one during the Klopp era.
If only he didn’t have to fight a team that broke – and continues to break – the rules of financial fair play more than twenty times every season, on average. He might have had a few more winners’ medals otherwise. That he managed to go neck-to-neck with them throughout most of this period is testament to just how remarkable it has been.
Thank you and adios, Mr. Klopp.
Thank you and adios, my readers.
Gonna be plenty to write about next season with a new regime, system, staff, and squad.
See you in a few months.
