It’s all a little bit exciting, if you’re me, which I am, to have revived something so Hanoverian as a literary feud! Such a back and forth brings to mind the savaging of John Rae by Charles Dickens post Franklin expedition (including the publication of Rae’s rejoinder in Household Words), or the attacks by William Hazlitt on, well everyone. I only wish I had the intellectual vigour of a Hazlitt or indeed any of the great correspondents of the past, to be able to maintain a contiguous train of thought for longer than a lunch time, and to not to be interrupted and thus de-railed by something so mundane as a game of football.
Still, to be galvanised at all in this age of short attention spans and antipathy to anything other than apathy is a miracle, and it is to football that, my wife’s scorn notwithstanding, I can give credit on this occasion.
Swipe
I set myself up for a pretty meaty swipe in retaliation for my retaliation previously. I sort-of lost the plot a little bit in places, correctly and astutely highlighted, and thus was due a short sharp rap. Of course, it was anything but short.
But, childhood illness and subsequent lack of free internet access (coupled with the boon of lackadaisical supervision at work) meant I was unable to admit my shortcomings publically and prostrate myself before the sword of my opponent until after the weekend’s round of Premier League fixtures, which delivered, much to my delight, an opportunity for a remise where my lunge had previously failed to score a hit. Thus, with extra armament and some topical padding, I am able to counter the counter-counter with a bit of flash footwork and my habitual curmudgeonly broadsword, transferred epithet be damned!
First things first
To begin, a quick retort (and with luck, they may all be quick) on the considered opinion (and charge) that a “Plastic Scouser” be he who “for no real reason associates themselves with Liverpool FC”. Logic and reason follow: aged 9, Saturday 12th December 1987, I was taken to see Manchester United play Oxford United at Old Trafford by 2nd Milford Haven Cub Scouts. Manchester United triumphed by three goals to one, with the two lone voices of discontent in the stand being myself and a friend who, in case it was him and my memory isn’t defective, I shall call Adrian Moorhouse. In retrospect, I worry that I have his true name and that of a Great British swimming hero (for I was regularly damp and cursed with ear infections from competitive swimming at the time) mixed up, and so is far more likely to be Adrian Moore. I hated all the gloating and trappings of arrogance displayed everywhere, even more so as I then tracked their progress to second place in the league with the reverent distaste usually reserved for nemeses (and also because I really liked Gordon Strachan, who scored twice in that game – I had a Gordon Strachan [not Man U mind] bag at school!) and witnessed Oxford’s revenge in the fifth round of the Littlewoods Cup in January 88. To whom then should I turn my empty vacuum of sporting support given the context? At the end of the season, there was only one winner. Of course, it was Liverpool who won, by 9 points. Watching John Aldridge knock in a table topping 26 goals lead to watching (or rather, listening to it on the radio whilst buying sensible school shoes) the “biggest upset” in FA Cup final history, and so I was hooked. Swansea, Cardiff and Wrexham, the teams one might suggest would have been the reason behind even a tenuous allegiance, were plugging away valiantly, most notably Swansea and Cardiff, who both emerged from the mire of the old Fourth by the skin of their teeth. But they weren’t on the tele on Saturdays (not my tele anyway, where Grampy’s fascination with British Wrestling often took precedence) and Liverpool were. Glories were few and far between after that, especially league ones, (only one more followed before the current drought), so it was hardly for the silverware that the liver bird replaced the silhouette of Gordon Strachan from my now neglected bag on my jotter cover. It didn’t hurt that Ian Rush, soon to be returning footballing and national hero also said on TV that if I didn’t drink milk I’d only be good enough to play for Accrington Stanley. Things conspire so they say. Sorry, but I lied about it being short.
Team sports allegiance is, at best, an irrational emotional response to a set of stimuli, the last bastion of acceptable tribalism (outside of the political arena) and as such, just what are valid reasons to support a club? Jingoism? Convenient location? Financial considerations? Filial obligation? Nice colours? Or that they have three stars on their badge so it looks more continental*? Who makes the decision on value? And why, if it matters at all, do “big clubs” go to Asia to cream a shit load of money from poor people who may never ever get to see “their” team play at all? I bet Man U fans are horrified by the abuse of thus taxonified “Plastic Mancs” to create new revenue streams that benefit the club to the tune of one or two David de Geas per season. There should be a protest about it or something. Glazers Out! Manchester is for Manchestonians!
No silverware no silverware, you still ain’t got no silverware.
I don’t think I qualified the quantity of ex-Liverpool players in punditry as due to the fact that they were better at it than anyone else. I think what I said was that the best pundits are the ones who have an opinion, or are dicks. In my opinion, Hansen and Lawrenson are both, or either, or whatever. I compared them to Shearer, Dublin and Dixon simply because they were the most boring at the time of writing – this has since been proved wrong by the addition of Bolton talisman Kevin Davies to the new and suitably uncomfortable chairs at BBC Manchester. Lawro’s inability to correctly judge more than half the games appropriately as evidenced by his own poor mid-table position in the Beeb’s online predict-table is a source of entertainment, something that I think should be encouraged. Still, lots of Scousers, plastic or otherwise feel qualified to give an opinion on the TV, radio or team websites, as is their (and others’) right by virtue of having screwed up their own bodies in the pursuit of personal glory and filthy lucre. Oh, and the public’s insatiable and rather confusing desire to hear their gobshite prattle. What is interesting is the selection of former Manchester United players as the example to follow when it comes to the successful players-into-managers model, and the choice of phrase “at the top level”. Such a phrase does not appear to allow room for levels other than the one at the top, so we shall bear that in mind when...
...Considering the evidence of recent players (NB: my memory and will to care is spotty pre-Fergie).
Mark Hughes. Okay, so he managed a national team. So did Steve McLaren, and I don’t think any Forest fans (shout out to @BigWes as the world’s greatest newbie Forest fan!) will thank me for mentioning him and his nonsensical hairdo on the internet without using the appropriate caveat, donkey-raping shit-eater. Wales did okay (blessing of the new manager in most cases except McLaren, Megson and Clough at Leeds), then did badly, resulting in him going. Mad Fayed is suing his ass (or he’s suing Mad Fayed, I forget) for being shit at Fulham (a common accusation for managers of Fulham so I’m told). Man City sacked him despite giving him Robinho and several hundreds of millions of pounds worth of other stocking fillers, and now he languishes in a hell of his own making, too proud to do a Peter Taylor and take a job at a (league positions don’t lie says Kev) crap team to prove himself apart from old mentors and the excuses of interfering chair persons and owners. The verdict – lost the spark.
(I may discontinue the “The verdict” summation at this point, as, inevitably the puns will be awful. Sorry.)
Roy Keane. Great players do not necessarily make great managers, said a pundit on Keane’s refusal to talk to journos camped outside his house waiting to pounce on him whilst walking his hounds just after whichever sacking to which he had just been subjected. His demeanour does not seem to be suited to presiding over a bunch of fecking rich idiots who will question what he’s barking at them. Plus, he rubs the board up the wrong way ‘cos he’s fecking Roy Keane so he is, and don’t you forget it. Most of that is speculation arising from a calculated (and blissful) ignorance of things Keane, but he’s still rubbish and who can argue with that? Which of his clubs have been playing at the top level? Ipswich?
Paul Ince. MK Dons and Macclesfield can hardly be said to be “the top level”. Notts County didn’t like him, and Blackburn got shot pretty chuffing quickly, despite the ubiquitous promising start. I obviously can’t be too hard on him, as a former Scouser, but he’s still got a long way to go to get back to the top, starting as he is at the near bottom.
****Steve Bruce. Perhaps the only person currently at the top level of British football in the Man U model, and, frankly, he is by the standards espoused by my erstwhile colleague, not a good manager. Why? Because he doesn’t seem able to not be Arsene Wenger, even when he is holding his hands up. “Yeah, okay, we were shit and deserved to be five down at half time, but you’ve got to say that the referee’s decision to send off all our outfield players for smoking weed in the dugout instead of trooping out for the second half was a complete travesty. At Stamford Bridge that would never have happened. What, an FA fine and charge? I hate you.” That and he’s been manager of Birmingham and Sunderland, possibly the two least important football clubs in the world ever. And yes, I AM saying that to provoke fans of Birmingham and Sunderland, who are the worst fans in the world ever. I conducted a poll during the season 2006-07 amongst fans at work, and all but one said Birmingham rated just higher than stepping in dog shit, and Sunderland, not quite as well.
Ole Solskjaer. A shining light perhaps? He’s just won the league after all. Hmm? What? The Norwegian League? Oh fuck off. Even Roy Hodgson can win a Scandinavian league trophy. What a load of cock.
For each of these former Man U players, I can produce 4 ex-Liverpool players who had a stab at management (including Paul Ince again) with a similarly disappointing record of success. I could even include Dean Saunders, on the up at downtrodden Darlington, Graeme Souness, winner of leagues in Scotland, cups in England and Turkey and (nearly) something in Portugal, and Robbie Fowler, rumoured to be, incredulously, on the shortish list to replace Nigel Worthington at Northern Ireland but still having coached a ‘top’ Thai football team. That’s without talking Keegan or Tosh, both international managers (as was Steve Staunton – don’t laugh, he was!). Oh, go on then, you twisted my arm. A quick run-down of former Liverpool players in management and top level coaching recently or not off the top of my Wikipedia:
Gary McAllister, Ray Clemence (get well Ray), Steve Nicol, Didi Hammann, John Barnes (also an international manager), Terry McDermott, Sammy Lee, Ronnie Moran, Ray Evans, Nigel Spackman, Jan Molby, Steve McMahon, Ronnie Whelan.
Yeah, okay, Barnesy was pretty rubbish at everything except “Strictly...” and the square ball. Still, that’s a lot of people just from memory.
A manager’s life is subject to the whims of a) the fans – occasionally; b) the board – quite often; c) bellicose oligarchs with a taste for instant success – Chelsea. Who, other than SAF, can point to a near perfect managerial trajectory? No, I seriously don’t know any other manager who could not be accused of some sort of misstep or miscalculation in his career at some point. Even Shanks had the media hounding him for such travesties as getting shot of McKay etc and blamed any losses on his constant tinkering, season on season.
Cometh the hour, cometh the Kenneth
Yeah, so Kenny said that Liverpool didn’t play well. Comparatively, they didn’t. We beat Chelsea on Sunday (this will recur frequently from here on in, so be warned) and played really well. If you look at both games, we played better against Chelsea, and worse against Swansea. I await protestations otherwise. We could’ve scored early, and it may have opened the flood gates. But the main truth here, I agree, is that it might not have too. Who can predict the outcome of any game even with such an influence as being a goal to the good or not? Misters Andersson, Schmidt et al** certainly might, at least statistically attempt so to do, but that’s not for me. I prefer to remain in doubt, and suffer the delicious agony that results from not knowing. However, I might take issue with the assertion that the rest of the players in red were mediocre. More in a mo on that little chestnut.
ADULT CONTENT WARNING – STRONG BIASED OPINIONS CONTAINED HEREIN
I said that Liverpool should be exploding at pace, for it is what I want to see them do. They can ‘cos I’ve seen them do it. It’s proper disconcerting to opponents, especially if they score in the process, and I think it’s a great way to discourage opponents from playing well, or their natural game, or whatever. I agree that pressing high up is very important against sides that play possession football – see the weekend where Giggs raped Rangel and Hernandez rammed it home with a slap on the backside. Look at what Adams, a man who “doesn’t have the pace or energy to drive the team” did against Chelsea, always first to the man with the ball (except when it was Bellers) and – result – stealing it from a dithering Mikel to give Maxi the opportunity to score a sublime goal against the creaking Blue machine and thus condemn AVB to a season of will-he-won’t-he guess the next move by Abramovich. I can also just lightly point out the amazing play of one maligned Mr Henderson by shitting on both Ashley Cole (wait – wasn’t he also shit on by Chelsea reject Glen “Can’t Defend” Johnson for his stupendous and ultimately definitive goal?) and whoever else came across to cover – I don’t care, but it was fucking great. He needs to adapt to us, not the other way around, so if he learns, great, and if not, he gets shipped on for a nice fat profit to someone like [INSERT ANY PREMIER LEAGUE TEAM CURRENTLY IN THE BOTTOM HALF OF THE TABLE HERE] who’ll pay over the odds for our rejects. Mediocre? I found myself punching the dog in celebration. I don’t do that for mediocre (NB I didn’t punch the dog – that was hyperbole, although he bloody well deserved it). Mediocre surely doesn’t apply to World Cup winners, European Champions, Champions League winners. Recent winners I should point out. England internationals. Recent internationals. Scorers of 4 international goals despite playing on his own with no striker “dropping off” or “cushioning headers” and with a bad back. If you want to pick me out the mediocre players, I’ll have a look, mark your list in red pen and give it back with “Must try harder” in the margin.
Next, competitive. Are we not competitive? Let’s do the maths, unfortunately by comparing Liverpool with the handy example, Swansea City. Versus teams in the top 4 regularly over the last 4 seasons or so, Liverpool this season have recorded a 1-1 draw (Man U), a 2-0 win (Arsenal) and a 2-1 win (Chelsea) taking 7 from 9 points available. Swansea have recorded a 4-1 loss (Chelsea), a 1-0 loss (Arsenal) and a 1-0 loss (Man U) taking 0 points from 9. And, risking a thrashing to embarrass me this time next week, they also got thumped 4-0 by league leaders Man City. Which, on that evidence, is the competitive side, capable of being in the top 4 at the end of the season? Granted, Liverpool has slipped against teams with attributes considered poorer and inhabiting lowlier league positions, but then Swansea lost 3-1 to Shrewsbury if I am not mistaken, a team so lowly I can’t even tell you what division they’re in without recourse to the BBC website. Competitive? Ask Chelsea if we can compete with the squad as is. If there was a choice of forty years of experience (of winning everything there ever was for a league player, deprived of European football and unfortunately Scottish, to win) versus AVB’s youthful curly hairstyle and smart casual dress, I tell you who I’d pick.
A quick gloss over Andy Carroll (can’t argue with you there) and Luis’s temperament (he does have a lovely smile though) and it’s on to Kenny’s managerial record. He inherited someone else’s team, granted, but then no manager brings his own squad with him to work. Clough inherited the champions of England, but lasted 44 torrid, underachieving days before yielding. Kenny won the league in his first season, and two more besides, and the FA Cup twice, before the tragedy of Hillsborough and the emotional strain finally caught up with him, meaning he could no longer give his all every day for the team. Anfield was suddenly a reminder of death, not a celebration of life, and he couldn’t cope, by his own admission. He didn’t quit when, having “spunked money” it stopped working. What happened after that, on his return to football, is something of public record, but he still managed to get Blackburn promoted (with someone else’s team) and then three years later, with his own team, win the league. Financed by a fan with cash, he was trusted to build his team for success. And he left Blackburn in good stead. At Celtic, as director of football, not manager, he was unhappy at the treatment manager Barnesy received by some unsentimental former Dalglish admirers and, even though he was appointed manager once Barnes had been sacked, he was looking for the exit.
At Liverpool, his marquee signings were the work of Damien Comolli. Since November 2010 he has been in charge of player recruitment, later to become Director of Football but with similar responsibilities, and Kenny was given, in theory, the last word. I say in theory because, if a guy who could be seen to be your boss came up to you and said “we’ll give you a future England number 9, no matter what the cost, [or, for what we can recoup on Torres minus £15 mill] so see if you can fit him in somehow” would you say no? I’d say gimme gimme gimme. Likewise, if he said “here’s X million quid worth of British talent, possibly great but that’s up to you and Clarkey to sort out” would you refuse? I suspect that David Moyes would shoot you dead if he heard that you did.
Big n Good
Okay, time is short and I’m feeling rough – baby germs are the most virulent germs in the world, ever: FACT. The big admission is, yes, I got sidetracked. Big club / good club. At this point, refer to argument headed “ADULT etc”. We’re in sixth (at present) and that means we’re better than 14 other teams in the league. That makes us better than Arsenal, Aston Villa, Everton, Fulham, Norwich, QPR, Swansea, Wigan, Wolves etc etc, all teams with some heritage. Kevin Davies said that the league table doesn’t lie, so my wife tells me (I fell asleep waiting for him to say something interesting), therefore we are sixth best in a league of 92 professional teams, which makes us a whole lot more “good” than etc etc. We beat Chelsea and Arsenal (and Man City 3-1 last season) whereas others have not. We are competitive, we are good, AND we are big. Until we’re relegated back to the old fourth division as quickly as Swansea were in the 80s, I think we’ll still be good. Big clubs tend to be good clubs, and the biggest clubs tend to be the best clubs. There are exceptions, as always.
I’m now very tired and it’s time to go home (from work)! If this trailed off, sorry. Oh, wait – there are questions to answer about Steven Gerrard. Using Kaka as an example is specious, given that Brazilians generally use the international team to get them lucrative moves to Europe (read Alex Bellos’ Futebol*** for more on that) and once there, they tend to try to gather as much money together as possible for whatever reasons by engineering moves around and about. Garrincha did it, Pele did it, Ronaldo did it, Ronaldhino did it, Robinho did it, and on and so forth etc. Would Giggs have stayed at Man U if the silverware wasn’t flowing? He was courted by both Spanish giants and at least one Milan giant but chose to stay where he could win stuff. Gerrard, who has won the Champions League, something that, on evidence, he wouldn’t have done if playing for Chelsea, has stayed loyal, for whatever reason. I’m pleased. So should every red, artificial or not.
* I couldn't quite believe it when I read this for the first time...
*** Another great book.
**** At the time of writing Steve Bruce had a job at Sunderland. Now he doesn't. C'est la vie.
**** At the time of writing Steve Bruce had a job at Sunderland. Now he doesn't. C'est la vie.
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