I wish someone had told Liverpool’s players.
City camped in the Liverpool half, as they defended the Kop as though their lives depended on it. The ball kept coming back to the visitors and Liverpool hardly got a touch. All three of us were shouting, urging the reds to get stuck in.
Corner. Another corner, then a free-kick, then another one, or that’s how it seemed. Then Bernardo Silva went tumbling down and hit the ball up in the air and Trent Alexander-Arnold could not get his hand out of the way of the bouncing ball, as in a split-second, despite the grey-haired Sergio Aguero’s protests, a penalty was not given.
Liverpool played to the whistle.
Quickly, slickly, transferring the ball from the left of their area, up the touchline to Sadio Mane who ran full pelt to the edge of the City area. Now Liverpool were on the attack.
Sadio Mane did what I urged and beat not one but two light blue-shirted players and crossed the ball into the area. It was cleared but only as far as outside the area and who was on to it in a flash but none-other than the balding Brazilian, Fabinho, who controlled the ball with his right foot and let fly a missile, which zoomed past Bravo at his right near post faster than Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola had shouted, ‘Pen-al-tee’ only 22 seconds earlier.
We jumped around the room like three loons, as we celebrated Liverpool going 1-0 up, well, with a pause of course, as we heard through ‘VAR’ that there was ‘No penalty’ and that there was nothing wrong with Fabinho’s fabulous strike.
Still City’s Blue wave came at us, as they were not standing alone, as in their signature song. Liverpool could not get the ball off them as it proved as elusive as that slippery bar of soap which drops in the bath. Just how many times did we howl at Liverpool and criticise them for not getting control of the game? It was just us being realists as we feared so much Man City’s capacity to score goals – against anyone; especially this Liverpool team which had astonishingly failed to keep a clean-sheet at Anfield all season.
Then Liverpool broke with a stunning cross-field ball from the right by Trent Alexander-Arnold, over to the other flank, our near one as we watched it, to his partner in crime (que Scottish ‘Taggart’ accent, ‘there’s been a murrr-dderrrr’) Andy Robertson, who did not need no second invitation to run up the wing, then produced a cross which the running in Mo Salah, on the right of the box, did not need to break stride to glance in, as the ball flew past Bravo’s right, to make it 2-0.
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