Grudge Match

As compelling a contest as it was, it shed no light on the title race bar letting City gather a slight bit more pace. Liverpool did themselves proud. Chelsea did themselves no favours. But as the saying goes ‘You can only beat what’s in front of you’ and Liverpool gladly obliged. The match was watched by a travelling contingent who still tenderly felt the pain of loss at watching their former star striker line out in an, up until last week, unthinkable blue strip.

Once the Torres factor was experienced it died down along with his influence on the match. He looked eager but most of his endeavours didn’t come off. Jamie Carragher was a key element in that. The Liverpool stalwart has been the subject of discussion these past two seasons. Is he still capable of providing a reliable defensive option? On his display today he certainly is. Combining passion with inside knowledge on Torres strengths he reduced the Spanish hitman to 29 touches, one of the lowest on the pitch.

The match itself was engulfed in Torres transfer fever, which took the emphasis away from whether Dalglish could joust with the managerial bigtimers. His team set up confounded Chelsea. Marauding wingbacks pushed Ashley Cole and Jose Bosingwa back, nullifying their threat in the process. Martin Kelly must provide a thrilling sight for any Liverpool fan. Encompassing three words that any fan loves to hear about players coming through the ranks; athletic, skillful, passionate.

A tackle from Lucas Leiva was never far from a Chelsea midfielder in possession. Encouragingly he is now beginning to combine dynamic forward forays with his sterling defensive work. The man is a testament to confidence and dedication. A much maligned figure, he has been pilloried in the press, seemingly just for being himself. In truth he was the fall guy for the brunt of xenophobic fuelled criticism on former manager Rafael Benitez. To see him begin to reap the rewards for his hard work is good for the heart.

To dismiss Chelsea as a force would be supreme folly. An addition of the calibre of Torres would add to any squad. Combining him with Drobga, Malouda, Anelka, Essien and Lampard is mouth watering. Once they gel, many teams will be swept aside, and glimpses of a promising partnership with Drogba were beginning to show today. Perhaps it was eagerness to include the striker that dulled their attack, but for now first blood goes to Liverpool, as the fans will hold on to this grudge for a long time to come.

An open letter from Woy hodgson

Hello thewe,

Woy Hodgson here, I don't know if you wemember me but I happen to be the most wespected coach in Euwope. I have pinballed awound outlandish footy outposts for 35 years desperately searching for a language that will adequately hide my disarmingly charming lisp. Alas there is no such language or culture and I have returned to the banks of the Mersey from the great bustling cosmopolitan eyesore that is london town to assimilate my lisp into the rough vocalisation that is scouse. I am here to impose my tough, british stlye of football (cobbled together very britishly in football backwaters across europe for 35 years) upon the bastion of british footballing pride that is liverpool football club. Gone are the dastardly ways of Senor Benitez. Professional analysis of everything possible to do with the game therefore leading to well informed decisions in the future? GONE. A far reaching and studied network of contacts across Europe? GONE. Pride in the club and an instant innate understanding of what the fans stood for? GONE. Finishing games having scored a goal? GONE. Progression to the latter stages of cup competitions on a regular basis? GONE.

Upon my appointment by Mr.Purslow I was given two directives. Chiefly I was to get those players smiling again. As we all know there is a direct cowwolation between smiling players and football success. And if you follow the 'mass media' (a term I coined in the opening stages of the Finnish season back in 19 tickety too)I am sure you will have spotted a picture of Steven Gerrard smiling in a training session. I myself took this picture with my wind up polaroid camera which I acquired in Marbella on holiday with my wife in the summer of 1912 on our 30th wedding annivewsawy. I took the liberty of posting it directly to my inside man in the Sun newspaper. You'll not see Steven glumly answering questions at Champions league conferences before semi finals and finals. He can now answer with relish as we plummet like a lead weight to the 2nd division. Oh and you wont see him frowning as he has to start out of position on the wight wing AGAIN and finishes the season with an FA Cup winners medal, a champions league winners medal and his highest ever goal tally for a season in the clubs most successful period for twenty years. No not under me, Woy, I have used knowledge of football psyche I learned from the Inuit when I lived in an igloo shaped like an 'R' and meditated under the auwowa bowealis while managing a team of seals, to diagnose Stevens real condition. A twendous feaw of sidelines. Woy will wemedy this. Straight down the centre for Steven from now on.

My second directive was to get the club to a nice healthy league position. Now I want people to judge me after ten games. I know we lie in a lowly 19th place, having not strung two successful passes together all season, but I have a solution to this. Bwing up Fewnando Towwes evewy chance I get, I hate him because I cannot say his name. I am going to show him not one whisper of a morsel of support in the 'mass media' for the entirety of the season, therefore earning his respect (in truth I am clueless as to how to win the respect of a top player, let alone convince one to sign for me. I have however acquired Paul Knochesky for the tidy sum of 5 million pounds. He has the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen. They wemind me of the sunsets in the fjords of Trondheim when I managed there in 1321 AD).

All in all I have devised a sure fire means of us winning a league title. After some long nights spent in my scwiptowium (built by belgian monks I became fwiendly with while touring the continent in a white van solving football mysteries for shit clubs) by the light of my womanian waspbewwy candles (bought while I managed a pub team of vampires in neighbouring twansylvania) using my pinewood abacus (got that as a goodbye pwessie fwom Mr. Al Fayed down fulham way) I have concluded if Liverpool continue on our inverse upward trajectowy we will win the league by March. 2097. Of couwse this is allowing for a sewies of catastwophic nuclear howwow wars that wipe out most of humanity and set us back as a species to the stage where we thought our shadows were out to get us and dreaded when they popped out the second the fire was lit. Bastards, all they wanted was the heat from the cutting edge technology flames (which I actually invented just west of eastern borogrovia in the winter of blah blah blah blah blah........................).

Youws,

Woy Hodgson