Jelly Babies

Jelly Babies

Wolves v Liverpool

23^rd January, 2020.

I parked the car almost adjacent to Davie and Carly’s house but do you know what; I was almost tempted to park it down the road, on the right, by the speed bump – just in case, just in case I jinxed Liverpool’s incredible un-beaten start.

Davie greeted me and I said, ‘Where’s Fudge?’ as she always barked; she must have heard me because no soon had I said it than there she was, that big old white/ brown coloured dog with paws as big as my hands.

I wrapped my hands around her soft fury head as it lay in my arms, looking down at her gob-stopper brown eyes and I smoothed her for at least a minute – one-to-one quality time. Davie called and whistled; off she went, leading me to the living room.

‘I haven’t got a good feeling about this tonight’, Dean said, looking smart as hell in that white away top – it makes me think that just for a long change, that I’d invest in one, as well as the half a dozen of the books on ‘Number Six’ I’ve got – I couldn’t resist!

Davie quickly made the tea as he happily poured the sweets I’d bought into the bowl. The soft refresher ones – found in Aldi as it goes, how convenient, especially as I’d dropped my mum off and done my weekly shop there, whilst also fitting in a visit to my mortgage company – ‘making the most of my minutes’ as an ex was oft to say.

There was no boisterous talk of the ‘t’ word which I shout at the boys for even daring to utter, as we caught-up and we discovered that Deano had booked yet another trip to the ‘states’ – for next September. Somewhere different on the agenda for him though, as he showed me a sweeping beach with stunning blue clear sea – somewhere in Hawaii. I thought ‘great’ but my ears really pricked-up – as though hearing Man City had dropped points, as he told me he was going to go to ‘Pearl Harbour’.

‘Take plenty of photos’ I urged him – as we are both well into our war history. In fact, I had supposed to have seen ‘1917’ with him earlier in the week but Deano had sheepishly text me that he ‘Can’t wait’ so downloaded it. ‘I still love you’ I replied as I just knew I had to go it alone to the flicks to see it on the big screen. It was worth it – as I felt I was there in the middle of the trenches.

Wolves – dodgy, dodgy, dodgy with a capital ‘D’ for good measure. I had even taken note of some of their players, suggesting that we get ‘Jimenez’ their tall forward and of course ‘Traore’ – no, not the one who scored an own goal at Burnley which was his glory, as in our old song, but the battleship like winger who could weave his way like a corvette. He would again be the one to watch.

My heart had skipped a beat when I had read that Virgil van Djke may have been missing – it will happen one day and Liverpool better be prepared, however I was relieved when the boys told me that he was playing.

‘Crouch’ said Davie, ‘don’t go running to the kitchen this time, then’, as I told them that I had woken-up with a bruise like pain in my lower back!! I had been able to live with it the whole day in work and the last thing I wanted was, for the reds to give me a separate pain in the a**e!

Liverpool, amongst the darkened stadium and stage-managed light show lined-up in a roster which has become as familiar as finding your way home; as Alisson was in goals, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson were the wing-backs. Virgil van Djke and Joe Gomez were the rocks at the back. Jordan Henderson – the ever-increasing driving skipper was in the middle along with Gini ‘the dynamo’ Wijnaldum and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain. The terrorising triplets were up top in the form of Mo Salah, Sadio Mane and Bobby (who’s not scored at Anfield all season – who cares?) Firmino.

‘Come on reds!’ I roared.

‘I bet we will be slagging them off in twenty minutes!’ Davie said.

‘We’ve become spoilt’ Dean said. Quite.

The thing is, as I again can hear my late dad’s voice as I type this, we just know that Liverpool can blitz teams, tear them-up in a devastating spell, almost on a whim, ala United and when we don’t get this, we are not happy – like spoilt kids (unlike Davie/Carly’s three girls who we actually seen during the course of the match, as they came down from eternal evening hibernation in their rooms).

The reds began to find their feet. We observed that it usually takes a short while for them to feel their way into games and then – bang!

A corner on the Wolves left and the ball was in Patricio’s top left-hand corner, via a powerful header, from, from, well, Jordan Henderson of all people! He had somehow made a stealth bomber like run and the ball seemed to come off the top of his shoulder. VAR took a peek but allowed the goal.

Liverpool were ahead.

‘Keep a clean sheet now, and we’ve won’ – Dean said.

Liverpool kept control of the ball. Passing inch perfectly – as Davie observed. Just about getting to the ball in the nick of time, getting a toe end to it and controlling it. The confidence was just oozing out of them. If they were a cat – they would have been purring.

How many clear-cut chances did they have – a few. We cursed – Mo Salah mainly as he went through one-on-one and yet again failed to hit the target. The game could have been so much more comfortable and put to bed by Mo all on his own. You can’t change him though – he’s a genius.

Wolves sensed there was a chance as they kept trying to play down the channel and through Liverpool’s high line. They should have equalised and for better quality finishing may have gone in at the break level.

‘That flew by’, Deano said as we dived into more sweets – with me also having got ‘Jelly Babies’ – Doctor Who’s -Tom Baker’s favs.

There was a real concern though for the reds as Sadio Mane – a candidate for not only our player of the season but surely Footballer of the Year, had just stopped and gone down. Then he had got back-up as the home crowd had a go at him, then back down again.

‘He’s f**ked’, Deano gravely observed. It was bad news and they did not expand on it at the break – a bad sign. Takumi Minamino had come on – not as we suggested, Divock Origi. To be fair, he looked a bit lost but showed one or two good touches.

Davie asked about what ‘Orthodontist’ means as baby Kelsey, sporting an apt all-red ‘onsey’, was going to have to have a job done on her teeth in the not too distant future and as soon as she found out that it was a brace then the oldest, Kayla, wanted one as well. Kids – what are they like?

Wolves came out at the start of the second half and we all looked at each other, as though just knowing what was on the cards. It would not have taken the genius that was Alan Turing, the Enigma code-breaker, to fore-see what came next, as Liverpool were second best to every ball and being run ragged by Traore and company; especially as he time and again, beat ‘Braveheart’ Andy Robertson.

Traore crossed the ball over and for once, Joe Gomez or Virgil van Djke could not conjure-up a majestic interception, as that man Jimenez, planted his header into the right of the all bright green Alisson to make-it 1-1.

‘The next five minutes is crucial’, Deano said, all tense like. He was right.

Liverpool could not get a grip. All the control they’d had was gone. Traore was running them ragged.

‘We’ll have to buy him so he doesn’t do this to us again’, Davie suggested as Robertson and even Henderson, bounced off him. ‘Is he English?’ Davie said.

‘If he was, they’d want to call him up’ Deano replied with more than a grain of truth.

We just knew we would be lucky not to lose the game.

‘I’d take a draw now’ I had said worryingly at one stage. Wolves were that dangerous.

Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain went off and he can have no complaints. We had not been impressed with him as Deano had slated him for not passing as good as he could have.

‘Never mind’ Dean tutted as Fabinho came on. Not a bad sub to call on.

However, Liverpool weathered the storm – not exactly trough the wind and rain, but certainly by keeping the hungry gold Wolves at bay, from their larder like net.

Bobby Firmino got in the clear, after an intricate move and, and, well, could only shoot straight at Patricio, with the goal at his mercy.

‘That was an open-goal!’ Deano gasped, his blood boiling like a mini Mount Etna.

By now Carly was home. She made a cuppa and we told her that we had been ‘crap’ but had had chances. Presently she sat down next to me on the sofa and told me about how beneficial the green tea was that she had suddenly started drinking.

‘It’s got anti-oxidants in it Crouch’ she said as I recalled smelling it many times a few years back, when Liverpool had mounted their last challenge on the un-mentionable ‘T’ word.

Mo Salah, found himself just inside the area. Back to goal and he somehow rolled the ball forward with a piece of dazzling skill which only he can produce, as he beat two players. Henderson, who had been again leading the fight to stay in the game, saw the gap and as Mo laid the ball back to Hendo, the skipper played the ball forward into Bobby Firmino’s path. Somehow, don’t ask me to describe it, Bobby, with a band of gold’s around him, viciously fired home into Patricio’s right-hand side.

I just could not help but cwtch Carly in celebration as I just dare not leap off the sofa, for fear of hurting myself and just in case, as Davie said, VAR intervened.

It was majestic. Over and over they showed the goal as we heard the reds fans singing Bobby’s beautiful soulful song which every red is addicted to as much as wanting to talk endlessly this team of mentality monsters which never give-up and which never settle for a draw.

‘Massive. A massive win!’ Deano said.

‘That’s the hardest game we’ve had’ I suggested and it was – no wonder we were all excited; now.

Before I left, I dipped into the sweet bowl, there were no refreshers left – only Jelly Babies.

24/1/20 1843