Banana Peels

Before this game I predicted on the LFC America Facebook page that, on account of the particular dynamics of this match, we would get at least six goals, but that it would end in a high-scoring draw. Happily, I am only one for two on that prediction, though even the one I did get right was off by a bit of a stretch. This was a game one should save so they can replay it to anyone (typically an American) who sneeringly says “but soccer is so boooriiing!” I mean, with a bit more concentration (on both sides) it could have easily ended double at 12-6, and with nary a moment of stoppage along the way.

Take that, Baseball.

Angeball can be fun to watch, often in the way we find ourselves laughing at someone slipping on a banana peel. Combined with the mercilessness of Slotball on the other end, the game promised to be a high octane affair, a promise on which it certainly delivered. I lost count of the goal scorers at some point, but the stat line says Salah got two, both sitters; his composure in these moments is second to none (he also passed Billy Liddell into fourth in the Liverpool all-time scoring chart). Diaz got two (which were much harder), Szobo and Mac Allister one each…and those were just the ones that went in. Liverpool had 24 shots, half of them on target, but the chances they wasted were easily worth a few more. Spurs, being pretty much themselves, were both shambolic in defense and occasionally brilliant in attack, getting themselves on the scoreline three times.

A nod to one Jurgen Klopp here; this team, this seemingly irresistible squad that so effortlessly breaks different teams apart in different ways, that “never plays a strong opponent” (there’s a reason why the opponents never seem particularly strong), is the same one he left for Slot to take over. It really is starting to feel like the Shankly-Paisley transition. With Man City’s epic collapse, in itself a banana peel moment on endless replay, I find myself appreciating Klopp’s remarkable achievement in building this squad, just as I admire how Slot has tweaked the way they play to maximize the enormous potential stored within. No less importantly, Slot does it while keeping players relatively healthy, in comparison to his predecessor.

I can’t really think of anyone who performed poorly today, and some of the lads were downright brilliant. The recently maligned Andy Robertson was fantastic on the left. Even though we conceded three, Virgil and Gomez were rock solid, as was Ali. Ryan Gravenberch played his normal game, which is to say, he was stupendous, and both Macca and Szobo had tremendous performances next to him in midfield. Gakpo was perhaps the quietest, and he still tormented Porro (and to a degree, Dragusin) time and again, effectively allowing Diaz and Salah to flourish. But even with all that, one player stood above all; Trent Alexander-Arnold just looked at his creative best, with pass after pass slicing Spurs open, while still tending to his defensive duties in a way that exhibited improved awareness and, for lack of a better word, givingafuckiness. So he’s my man-of-the-match, which I’m sure will stand as a solitary choice.

Any game that reaches this kind of scoreline feels chaotic, and I couldn’t help but laugh when Slot threw Nunez onto the field. It was clearly a planned sub, but it also felt like a movie moment when a hero (or villain) places their hand on a dial and pushes the reactor into the critical zone. As testament to the level of chaos in this game, Nunez ended up looking downright calm and organized, not something I had on my bingo card.

I’m going to rewatch this game this week just for the sheer fun of it all. In the meantime, Ange might get sacked after this. With Chelsea dropping points to an Everton side that has quietly racked up five clean sheets in their last six outings (boy, is that weather cancellation looking better every day or what?), Liverpool in this moment look awfully good on that perch. So, you know, even though many of our readers won’t necessarily know what this is about…

Take that, Fergie.