Cup of Coffee

Liverpool v Wolves

29^TH of December, 2019

I was coffeed-out.

There is only so much you can drink. I had half an hour to kill before going to Davie’s for the match.

The closest place for a hot drink was Sainsbury’s. It was still open and I got a hot chocolate and plonked myself down, the only person in the café. Flipped the Mirror crossword open and tried to do it. No chance. It was just one of those days where I had now failed to get going in all three of them. Or was it that my mind was being distracted by Liverpool – that was my excuse anyway!

The sweet drink went down a treat – I can recommend it.

I contemplated navigating into a proper car-parking slot – you know, between two cars; what do they call it, parallel parking. Well, I’m sorry, if there is an easier alternative then I choose it and besides which, I immediately became superstitious, so parked down the road, on the right – where I have normally parked this season.

Carly, Davie’s wife, opened the door to me, with a smile as always. Then Fudge, the loving dog, was not far behind and as I began to stroke her under her chin, she just sat there and lapped-it up like the softy she is. I am sure she knows everyone. I am sure all pets do.

Deano and Davie were there and then Carly presented me with my top which she had kindly washed and dried for me – it felt like brand new and smelt fresh. It was like she was my little, though, big sister, the way she is with me – trying to guide me in the affairs of the heart but laughing at me at the same time!

They are all my extended family and in this holiday period, I have spent as much time with them as I had my mum and brother, if not more.

So, Wolves. Wolves who had come from 2-0 behind to beat Man City the other night and win dramatically 3-2! Incredible – it meant Conor Coady’s side had done the ‘double’ over Pep Guardiola’s so I knew, just knew, as every sensible red did, that they were going to be tough opponents.

Liverpool lined-up as follows; Alisson, Trent Alexander-Arnold, Andy Robertson as wing-backs, Virgil van Dijk and Joe Gomez as centre-halves, Jordan Henderson – despite picking a knock-up v Leicester, Gini Wijnaldum and Adam Lallana in the middle. The front three again picked themselves as most of the spine of this team does; that’s just how it is these days.

Wolves were dangerous but apart from that Adama Traore and Coady – the former Liverpool player, then I could not honestly name any of them but what I did know was that their collective was a very good, football playing unit which could cause Liverpool problems given half the chance.

I had been concerned that I had not got any sweets to go into the bowl on the table but I need not have worried. There were special ones there. Traditional Christmas ones – Roses! Anyone would think it was still Christmas – or that limbo period in between; waiting and bracing ourselves for New Year. The chocolates were just there and smelling so appetizingly, especially in their colourful wrappers – ‘Take me, take me’ they were calling and I soon gave in, just diving in without looking until the soft, sultry, sweet, texture was in my mouth, soothing instantly any tension I may have been feeling in those moments. It was like, like – well, a Divock Origi champions League Final goal in a wrapper!

Liverpool started brightly, attacking the Anfield Road End. Two chances went begging if my memory serves me correctly. It would have made all the difference if we had scored one.

I found myself kicking every ball. My feet forever moving as I lounged on the sofa, almost in a horizontal position. It belied how tense I really felt inside though. I just could not rest – Liverpool need to score – full-stop. That was all that was missing as they probed patiently for a gilt-edged chance.

‘Keep at it reds’, I sighed, as the tension arose around the living room.

Then the ball was in the box, Adam Lallana jumped for it and played it to Sadio Mane and he finished, low, to Wolves keeper, Patricio’s right.

‘’YES!’ I shouted, raising both my arms in the air, in triumph as though lifting a trophy, criminally in my book, without hearing the fat lady sing or in this case, without a VAR check.

‘Wha?’ we all went. Looking at each other and the screen. Just wondering how they could possibly disallow the goal.

How long was it – two minutes perhaps. I felt sorry for all the fans in the ground. They must have been more in the dark than we were.

‘I think they are also checking for a possible offside, as well’, Deano wisely said as it dawned on me that our chances of being allowed the goal took a seventy-five per cent swing to the good.

Finally, a massive roar came from Anfield.

The goal stood.

‘Now come on reds, get the first tackle in’ I urged, fists clenched, just knowing how slender our vital, vital lead was that we had just about got and been allowed, after VAR had decided Lallana’s shoulder, not his right arm, had touched the ball in the build-up.

The reds didn’t listen to me though. They did get a tackle in but it led to a free-kick. In an advantageous position. The ball was hacked clear, with a good old up and under and we all felt a sigh of relief. So did Liverpool’s players but Wolves were on it and got the ball to their right wing and as it was crossed into our box, one of their gold shirts slammed the ball to the right of a despairing Alisson.

It was 1-1 and we had been made to pay for switching-off.

It was gutting. It was like we had each been given a tin of roses to eat and Carly had snatched them away.

But lo, hark the angel that is VAR (not). Wait a second, as the screen was boxed again to look not at the lush green Anfield turf, but somewhere in the magnificent newish Main Stand. A monitor was being checked. Suddenly, my heart was skipping a beat at the remote prospect that maybe the legitimate – all day long, goal was being looked at.

VAR only went and disallowed it! The relief I felt was just head shaking. I could not fathom it out. I was just grateful that Liverpool were still, still ahead. As far as I could figure, a Wolves player’s boot lace was over the line in the build-up to the goal. I’ll take that all day long though. Especially, now, let’s re-wind a moment here, in VAR fashion, to when Bobby Firmino was denied a goal by VAR at Aston Villa, when we should have gone 1-0 up or to a Mane header v Watford when it could have given us a 2-0 lead, long before Mo Salah’s cheeky last minute back-heel.

Davie called it though. He said that the VAR people are never known and sit behind screens so they don’t get stick and pick-up their money without a problem.

It was, after all the drama, 1-0 to the reds at the break and it was definitely time for more chocolates and tea!

‘Fudge’ was baby Kelsey’s new best friend as she cwtched-up to the soft old dog, in the corner, whilst the drama un-folded itself into the second half with the reds briefly spurting to attack the Kop, which was urging the team on to score a second, which would have made all the difference.

A few times Liverpool seemed to be on the brink finishing – they could not pull the trigger though; it was akin to dunking a shortbread biscuit into tea, leaving it in the cup too long, before it collapses   in the tea.

Wolves pressed and pressed. Forcing Liverpool back as I again, squirmed, contortedly on the sofa, almost going into a defensive ball, as I tightened my grip on my jumper, with the tension rising, to even greater heights when not only did Virgil van Dijk of all people get caught out for his over-confidence on the ball but especially when that Traore came on and started to rampage down our left and then our right.

Trent Alexander-Arnold was having a torrid time against him. Twice he left him go and in came the ball to the edge of the ‘d’ and two shots were wastefully fired over, thank goodness as I reached yet again for the roses, for a crumb of comfort to ease my nerves.

I shouted, violently towards the screen at one stage, towards my heroes, urging them like some far away sergeant major to ‘get some in’ (you must be as old as me if you recall that tv series) and ensure they held-out under another barrage of Wolves missiles as another ball was pulled across and chance somehow wasted. At this point Joe Gomez must be singled-out for special praise. He was magnificent – reading every move and covering Trent Alexander-Arnold at every turn, and boy can he put a sliding Alan Hansenesque tackle in and I can give him no higher praise than that. It was though, yet again, the team collective strength which was the most important factor; not any individual’s performance.

I can always tell how tense and tight the game is because I counted the clock down from 70 minutes onwards. Then past 90 minutes and the extra, contorted filled four minutes.

Was it no wonder, that at hearing the final whistle, I jumped up off the sofa and shouted, gleefully at the top of my voice, ‘Yes!!’ and made a bee-line for the toilet for a relief flowing wee jimmy riddle!

Whilst there, it sunk in that Liverpool had incredibly lost only one League game in 2019 – I do not think any Liverpool team has ever achieved that feat in a whole year.

However, as I left Davie’s, I still, still, could not hear the ‘Fat Lady’ singing in the distance but just, just, just, very, very cautiously whisper it, maybe she was waking-up from her 30 year-old sleep and preparing to have a cup of coffee…

30/12/19.

‘Quest to be the Best’.

Leicester City v Liverpool

Thursday, 26^th of December, 2019.

I tried all day not to be tense. Just writing about Gavin & Stacey – being Welsh, I loved it, see.

Even picking-up my jigsaw again which has lain on the table now since, since, well, after June anyhow but getting enjoyment out of it and becoming addicted; again. It was no bad thing.

I’d decided not to drink – you know I’m just getting headaches these days from even half a bottle of cider – I must be getting old; at least it meant I can go and please as I want, as I hear my dad’s voice as I type this.

I got to Davie’s in good time though. Well before kick-off; kick-off to a game I had secretly billed as, ‘our most important in 30 years’, you all know the reason behind that statement. It was almost a whisper though; not quite trying to contemplate what would happen if Liverpool lost it.

Ian and Sarah came, both rugby fans but both Manchester United ones too – almost into the ‘Lions Den’ of three, nay, four (if we include Carly) avid, rabid, ravenous Liverpool fans who bleed not Welsh red blood but Liverpool blood.

The girls were in the kitchen and with about a quarter of an hour to go I was there too. Just chatting and feeling that at any other time I would be completely enjoying myself and engrossed in the conversation about Christmas prezzies and that.

Ian had a special one ‘Crimbo’ prezzie. An un-usual one. He had a voucher for a ‘Sky-dive’. Not in a million years would I do that! Ian though said he had always fancied it and Sarah had now given him a golden ticket for his dreams to come true. The exhilaration he is going to feel will be un-describable. Secretly, I wonder if it would be comparable to the time if and when Liverpool actually lift, lift the, no, no, no, my key-board is not allowing me to write it.

We took-up our match-day positions. Me and Deano, wearing that dark silver top with the Liver Bird on it, on my right of the three-seater and Davie in his swivel, Bond villain chair. There were sweets on the table but also snacks and rolls spread out on the main table – how thoughtful. Fudge was floating around and then Davie shouted, ‘Bag’ and off she’d trot into the far corner, having been spoiled by Deano with another sweet or bit of roll.

‘She only answers to you’ Ian said, supping his Carling can.

Klopp picked the strongest team. Alisson in goals, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson as attacking wing-backs. Virgil van Djke and Joe Gomez at centre-back. Jordan Henderson, Naby Keita, and a timely returning Gini Wijnaldum in the middle. Mo Salah, Sadio Mane and Club World Cup winning goalscorer, Bobby Firmino were up top.

Leicester, having darkened the whole stadium to supposedly create an intimidating atmosphere had Jamie Vardy. Jamie Vardy who always, always scores against Liverpool every season without fail. They had James Maddison too and Brendan Rodgers – smile please for the camera, in charge. They had been dangerous all season.

‘Please reds’ I silently said, working myself-up. This was the moment. The time when it could all go pear-shaped. Where there was a danger that Liverpool could lose.

My, my, my, we were cursing. Cursing though at Liverpool’s inability to finish Leicester off in the first five minutes.

Just how many chances did Liverpool miss? Mane and Trent had one apiece. And they kept coming and coming.

‘You should be four nil-up!’ Ian said with about half an hour gone. I tapped him on the leg as though gently agreeing with him.

At one stage, Naby Keita drove from our half, on the left and played a delicious one-two with Sadio Mane, carried on with his run but failed to hit the target. If it was a Boxing Day bout – Liverpool would have been out of sight on points.

They had been at it from the first second. Right on their ‘A’ game. They fought and thought, for every ball, for any stray pass, for anything which they lost, they played as a compact team as I’ve seen in ages. Leicester were not having a sniff. It was such a controlled performance. All that was missing was a goal.

All of a sudden, the ball was played into the area and thank God Bobby Firmino got in front of Salah and headed the ball firmly downwards so hard that Kasper Schmeichel didn’t have a chance to save it at his left near post.

It was 1-0 to the reds, at last.

I just raised both my hands in the air, my muscles taught, as though surrendering to my emotion inside. ‘Yeah’s’ I shouted from deep within. It meant the absolute world to me that Liverpool had made the break-through…

With their tails-up, like a grinning Cheshire cat, Liverpool did not rest as they went on the prowl for a second goal. That they did not get it can be down more to poor finishing than anything the home team done.

‘This will come back to bite us on the bum’ an exasperated Dean said, shaking his head as he downed another bottle of his favourite ‘Des-per-ra-do’s’, said in his best Newport towny accent! As I downed my diet- coke, having previously spilled a coffee on my white-blue top, with Carly having kindly applied the magic, ‘Varnish’ on it.

The girls were floating about now and they were no trouble, going back upstairs after picking. The both of them are as thin as rakes but they were un-lucky later; the Chinese was shut – how inconvenient; anybody would think it was Boxing Day!

I was worried. Every time we had watched Liverpool this season it was like a game of two halves. Mainly they would play not too good in the first half and then improve in the second period; I hoped, just for a change, they would just ‘carry-on playing’ in a movie title which Sid James could star as a smoking Jurgen with a baseball cap on and a bottle of Bud in hand.

The reds though carried on where they had left off. Attack after attack, in such a measured and controlled fashion that it seemed they were hardly breaking sweat. I have to say I can’t recall specific goal threats but it was just the whole manner in which they bossed most of the game which was the stand-out feature.

Leicester actually ‘had a spell’ and as they upped the pace, with the home crowd reminding us that they were there, having been silenced, me and Dean looked knowingly at each other; worried.

All that experience gained becoming not only European but World Champions though, came into play as Liverpool took a strangle-hold on the game again, after Vardy hardly had a sniff and when he did, there was Gomez sprinting to block him and put him back in his pocket, like some loose change which had fallen out.

Trent kept coming forward. Robbo kept coming forward as did the midfielders, with Jordan Henderson magnificent – pursuing Leicester at every turn.

‘Get Milly on’ I said.

‘Take Mo off’ Deano strongly suggested.

Klopp must have heard us.

Liverpool won a corner down the right-hand side of Schmeichel’s goal and as the ball whipped into the box – at last, it got cleared. However, my heart skipped a beat when play was stopped. The ref was only pointing to the spot, for a hand-ball.

‘Let’s not celebrate yet’ Deano wisely said as James Milner calmly stepped-up amidst antics which were designed to make him lose concentration.

After the messing about, Milner stepped-up and put the ball, with the inside of his right heel, past a despairing Schmeichel, in the centre of the goal.

It was 2-0 to Liverpool and I again just went ‘YES!’ in triumph.

It had been James Milner’s first touch of the ball, after he had come on for the again, impressive, Naby keita.

It was, what, 70 minutes gone but Liverpool were still hungry, still greedy to make sure of the three points on offer in a ‘six-pointer’.

Within minutes Trent Alexander-Arnold, with the freedom of ‘Filbert Street’ crossed the ball in. Bobby Firmino took one touch to control the ball with the inside of his right-boot and then majestically, with a swipe of the same foot, almost curled the ball nonchalantly into the top left-hand corner of Schmeichel’s net, to make it 3-0.

‘Oh my God’ I gasped in awe. Bobby was just making our dreams come that little bit closer with a finish which killed Leicester off.

Carly was chatting to Sarah, Ian’s missus, as we sat there, glued to the tv, mesmerised by Liverpool’s performance. It was a thing of beauty; there was more to come though, just like the bad cracker jokes which baby Kelsey delighted in saying to Deano later.

The ball again pinged out of defence, like one of those pin-ball machines, one-two-three sweep forward and as I watched Trent Alexander-Arnold I realised he was not going to break stride when the ball came to him and he finished the game off with a sublime, low, arrowed, accurate finish from the edge of the area, which nestled into the bottom right-hand corner of Schmeichel’s goal as snuggly as the fit of the pyjamas my mum had got me the day before.

It was 4-0 to Liverpool.

‘Now that’s a true reflection of the game’, Ian said, having given-up trying to secretly urge Leicester on, in the midst of a ‘Liverbird’ household.

It was a canter. Roll back the years. This Liverpool team were writing their own history.

Four nil flattered Leicester – as I wrote later on twitter, it should have been ‘8-0’.

Now it was time to play Kelsey’s spinning board game, as Liverpool had taken another baby step in their quest to be the best…

27/12/19

1670

‘Cracking’

Gavin & Stacey

Christmas Special

25^th of December, 2019.

‘Cracking!’

I mean, that is one word to describe the televisual experience form last night. Of course, I am referring to ‘Gavin and Stacey’; back after ten years away from our screens; it seemed like a flick of a switch since we had last seen them.

It warmed the cockles of my heart to see Gavin and Stacey re-kindle some of that pure love which emanated from them, cooked-up better than any omelette which Gwen could have concocted. It was a stroke of genius when Stacey got the hotel flip box of matches out and like a magician produced them and gave them to Gav – much more meaningful for them than any kitchen cupboards! It struck a chord with any romantics out there. Then in response, Gavla got their song playing, by the wonders of technology – you all know the one, I could say, in my  best Nessa voice; just like when Nessa said on that fateful night, when the four of them got into that London Hotel room,  they knew ‘what was happening’.

Then Stacey, looking stunning in a red dress, jumped into Gav’s body and snogged him un-ashamedly on the front in Barry – in the moonlight, near to where Dave Coaches had dropped her and Nessa off all those years ago; I was half expecting Dave to ghostly appear and ask them, ‘How’s sugar tits?’ but alas, we never saw him.

Bryn was in a panic as he had to cook for an un-lucky 13, with a reference to ‘Convoy’ being wasted, as he could have said ‘ten four for a crimbo pud anyone?’. Smithy was a happy soul and it was good to see him with a proper bona-fide missus but then, you knew instantly she would not fit-in. Smithy summed Mick and Pamela up by declaring they were his ‘real mum and dad’, just coming out with something which we had all felt for ages now.

Nessa was just Nessa as she had ‘Neil’ the ten- year -old ‘baby’ go around with her singing one-liners from Christmas Carols which is an art that is dying-out. Loved it when she said that they would take card – instantly whipping-out one of those, no doubt, contactless card accepting machines! Mind, she did, fair play, give the money – to Smithy who point-blank refused it; saying that Neil, ‘the baby’ would maybe need footy boots or ‘there is always something’, showing a real maturity.

And what about Pete Diddly? I mean, surely, he was just glad to be free of being the bad guy in ‘Killing Eve’ and being married to ‘Dawnie’ again and wrongly being accused of being a druggie! Just excellent when they were all dancing away sharing a spliff – well I could say you can’t make it-up, as it felt real enough and that’s the beauty of this comedy drama – it feels real; you are right there, one of them; better than any fly-on-the-wall documentary. Though, I don’t think I would still have wanted to have been on board, right there, right then, in my best Uncle Bryn voice, on that fishing trip, when it got freezing- just ‘What was occurring?’. They nearly blurted it out again last night, Bryn and Jason but for Gavla & Stacey’s three kids, the whole story may have, finally, tantalisingly, come out, but it never did and now maybe never will.

Superb as well when they were all in the pub and singing the best Christmas song, ‘Fairytale in New York’, I was just so, so, happy inside to see Gav and Stacey beaming, it warmed me no end as I sat there on my own; it just got to me – brilliant. No alcohol needed, just great tv and it did not get much better than this eagerly anticipated hour which just flew by minute by minute as I enjoyed it as much as any mouthful of the Christmas dinner me and my mum not only ate together but helped cook – with me actually doing smooth chicken gravy which even Smithy & Nessa may have approved of!

When they were stood outside and Nessa gave a drag to Smithy, after he made sure that ‘Cindy’ or whatever her name was could not see him anymore, I was not aware of the time, that the end was fast approaching.

And what a way to finish, on a cliff-hanger like that! Surely, surely, Smithy will say ‘yes’?

Another special will have to be written, to see what happens –that would be just cracking!

26/12/19 761 A. C. LEGS

‘Grab a coke.’

Liverpool v Flamengo

World Club Champions Cup Final

21^ST of December, 2019.

The flags were out – the lucky ones. Red and white cheque of course. Laid along the top of the fire – Christmas – nah, final – yes!

This is what we had waited all day for – to see Liverpool play the Brazilians because the moment we qualified for this final I got excited to see us pit our wits against Flamengo.

I’d spent most of the day just chilling in Morrisons and then in front of the tv, determined to lay and rest as much as possible, with a cold on my chest so it was a sofa and various cups of tea and coffee with ‘Only Fools and Horses’ constantly on in the back-ground as I fought, un-successfully to get off ‘Twitter’ which is increasingly addictive. Just how have I survived without it all these years!

That’s the thing about ‘Only Fools and Horses’ though, it doesn’t matter if your idling whilst it’s on at any given moment you can look-up and know what is going on and you can’t help but laugh, especially when that bus blows-up or Del Boy has a few words with ‘The Great Raymondo’. Just brilliant.

Davie and Dean and myself were the audience then, Carly was working and even though she was not there physically, she was there in spirit and no doubt ready to laugh at our antics.

The boys were drinking already but I had my tea – making it myself, as soon as Davie put the switch-up on the wall that is. One day again, I may have a few sherberts; it may even be Boxing Day. We will see.

And so, to the BBC and the preliminaries to the game. Mark Lawrenson recalled the last time Liverpool played Flamengo, in Tokyo in December, 1981. He revealed that the boys were drinking on the plane going over and they lost 3-0 to a Brazilian side which included Zico. I just about recall watching the game – showing my age. We were crap. It still didn’t make it any easier to take the defeat though and you only have to look at Phil Thompson and Alan Hansen’s glum faces when the Brazilian’s lifted the trophy to see that.

There were, a pile of sweets in the bowl and I grabbed a couple of the soft ones before kick-off. I wanted us to win but, but I just felt that if we didn’t then the League was and is, the be all and end-all this season.

Jurgen Klopp put out the strongest side he could have; Alisson, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson as wingers/full-backs, Virgil van Djke – back from illness and Joe Gomes. Then Jordan Henderson, Naby Keita and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain in the middle with Bobby Firmino, Mo Salah and Sadio Mane up top. This side had not been on the pop – that’s for sure.

Well, Liverpool should have scored after about 50 seconds! Bobby Firmino though lofted a chance straight over the bar. If that had gone in it would have settled any nerves. Almost in the flick of a one-liner coming out of Del’s mouth, like ‘cushty’ Liverpool through Naby Keita could have scored again but the opportunity was passed-up.

We were exasperated that Liverpool had not taken that early lead and even more so when after dominating the opening quarter of an hour the reds surrendered all the momentum as Flamengo increasingly came into the game.

I began to shout at the screen. Increasingly annoyed by the way Liverpool kept failing to win the ball and then lose it when they actually had it with Mo Salah on the receiving end of a particular violent outburst, straight from the mouth of any past Phillip’s in a bad temper, proving yet again I was my late dad’s son! (It was only because I care and love Liverpool so much…) We all felt the same as another handful of sweets was grabbed in frustration, as though it was a crutch to fight against the on-screen developments.

For all of Flamengo’s possession though they rarely got shots off which troubled Alisson and when they did, he was equal to them, by flinging his left arm out at one stage. Liverpool were just out of ‘Bassett All Sorts’ you could say as they struggled to stop the stream of Brazilian attacks as they streaked through our non-existent midfield.

Was it no wonder, even at this early juncture we urged, ‘Get Milly on?’.

Liverpool survived, somehow, but in no small thankfulness to Joe Gomes who was outstanding throughout the game and is back to his very best, as Liverpool began to at last mount some attacks themselves before half-time. It may have prevented them from having an ear-bashing from Klopp.

More tea, more sweets as Baby Kelsey tried not to annoy her two older sisters, Kaitlyn and Kayla, who were both under-the-weather in some description or another; poor dabs. No wonder Kelsey spent the game, sat with Davie on his wide swivel chair which would not be out of place in the gaff of a 60’s Bond villain!

I put the soft refresher sweets into the bowl and before I could sit down, Deano was in like Sadio on the break-away and began to munch on them – well, it was Christmas and there was even love-heart shaped Ginger Nut biscuits in a box which I dipped into my tea and even offered Deano that option, as he scoffed one and then gave half to Fudge, the dog. He loves that dog – as we all do.

At the start of the second half, with a rocket up their proverbial back-sides, Liverpool, wearing all-red, came out of the traps, again, in great fashion and should have again taken the lead but Bobby Firmino could only put his shot just inside the right of Alves post before coming back out of goal.

Liverpool could not have got any closer.

I concluded that we were not going to score, that the ref – what a joke, was going to constantly get conned by Flamengo’s players who if you so much as said ‘Hi’ to them, were going down as though they had just been shot. Such play-acting tactics – horrendous. In response I took-up a slumped resigned position – almost a laying down one; trying not to get myself to even feeling that we were going to actually get on the ball again, let alone look like scoring; almost trying not to disappoint myself but really, inside, wanting us desperately to win.

The game was coming to a close. Oxlade -Chamberlain fell down and that was not good. Not good at all. That lad has had enough major injuries in his career to last at last two life-times. This time it was his ankle – not his knee which he recently had surgery on. We like ‘the Ox’ though he had not had much joy in this game.

James Milner – ‘Milly’ then, was, afterall, called on.

Then we got Sadio Mane away, with about a minute left. Running away to our right, on the screen, as we saw it. Sadio was about to pull the trigger and then he appeared to be kicked on the inside of his ankle, just inside the area. The shot was a poor one. I felt as though Sadio – for him and the form he has been in, could have done better. However, within moments Deano and Davie were off the sofa, shouting, ‘Pen-al-tee!!!’.

I really didn’t think that it was one but well, I’d take it, all day long! The Brazilians had cheated and play acted, going down with cramp now at any given second – even their keeper, who had then miraculously pulled off a finger tip save from Henderson’s scorching effort, to tip the ball over the bar. ‘How can a keeper have cramp??’ Deano shouted. Exactly.

The longer the delay, with Mo Salah cwtching the ball under his arm, ready to take the spot-kick, the ref – again I make no bones in saying this – the court jester more like, actually consulted the VAR screen, which we could see. My suspicions were confirmed. No penalty – worse luck. Not even a foul as a yellow card was rescinded. If we had been awarded the free-kick I bet Trent would have taken it – ‘It would be as good as a penalty’ Deano mused.

I just shook my head. Trying not to get aggravated. Just feeling again that, despite dominating the second period and creating, again, the best chances, Liverpool were not going to win.

Liverpool though, re-grouped and stood-up to anything which Flamengo threw at them as at one stage Andy Robertson endeared himself even more to us by having an argument with one of their players, illustrating the fighting spirit which characterises this Liverpool team to its core. I would not want to mess with ‘Robbo’, that’s for sure!

Then, with Flamengo in a rare attack, the ball came out of our area and Jordan Henderson played a beautiful, long, pass forward, on the deck, to Sadio Mane who had the beating of the defender. Sadio used all his experience and passed to his left to Bobby Firmino who had machined his way up field just to receive the pass on the edge of the area. Bobby did the rest as in the blink of an eye he controlled the ball, cut it inside the defender and slow mowed the time to a frame by frame count to coldly pick his spot and make sure that he scored.

Such a cool, clinical, cup winning finish put Liverpool near the top of the world.

Now it was time for me to leap off the sofa and shout ‘Yes’ to the ceiling, if not roof-top, to no doubt awake a sleeping Kayla.

We had scored. At last. In a World Club Cup Final!

As we celebrated, Liverpool and Mo Salah could have scored again, to seal it there and then. Liverpool really wanted this, especially Bobby, who had taken his shirt off in celebration of his goal, earning himself a needless booking. Just why is this a booking?

‘Kill the game’, ‘Go down with cramp’ we urged the reds, as the time ticked by and I got my maths wrong, thinking there was only two minutes left when there was actually another five to endure…

Liverpool though were in control and always, always when they have something to hold onto, I think back to those last few minutes against Spurs and to how close we were to winning the Champions League trophy. The mentality of these players now knows no bounds I’m sure, because of that night. They survived then and even scored a second goal and now, right at the death, in this final, they survived a scare as a Flamengo player shot the ball over when he could have scored.

Then the whistle went and we were all happy.

‘Champions of the World’ it sounded fantastic.

It was time to raid Davie’s fridge; grab a coke and celebrate!

23/12/19

1843

A Perfect Afternoon

14^th of December, 2019.

Liverpool v Watford.

I actually had time-out to chill and chose not to go to Writers and instead had a Morrisons Big Breakfast – never again! I’ll stick to my usual sausage bap – yum, yum! The girl behind the till though did say, ‘You’re here before the mad rush’. She always replies how it is there as the staff are constantly run of their feet like opposition defences trying to cope with Sadio Mane and Mo Salah, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson running at them.

Well, it did allow me to get some sweets though – for those of you that are interested, yet again, those soft, almost doughy, refresher ones were on the menu, along with fizzy – sharp, cola bottles; especially as I am still trying to prevent the cold getting on my chest.

‘Four and half more years’ went the Daily Mirror back-page headline with a grinning Jurgen Klopp; but I bet he is not grinning as much as we all are at him signing a new contract to keep him at Anfield until 2024. ‘He is the best manager’ a Manc nonetheless, said in work the previous day. Quite.

I was actually at Davie’s house before Dean. Fudge, she the dog, not he the dog, as she is often called, greeted me with a wagging tail – of course I gave her a cwtch but hoped she would not ‘drop one’ too often in the next hour or two.

Within ten minutes, me, Davie and his wife, Carly, had been joined by Dean and equally importantly; his lap-top. It was the security net to our watching the reds as much as Virgil van Djke is a lynchpin to our defence.

‘Deanie’, as 7 year-old Kelsey, calls him, had done very well. ‘Speedie Deanie’ he could have been called. He had been out on the Crimbo works do in ‘Kar-diff’ the night before and had not been impressed with the fatty pork served-up in a restaurant with his works, though thank goodness he had not stumped up £45 a head. Consequently he had a late one (I bet I don’t have to tell anyone reading this, that Cardiff is rammed with pubs!) but Dean fell into bed in a hotel by the train station and had already got home and beat the rush in Tesco’s and had made it up to Cwmbran in double-quick timing – the like of which was on a par with Liverpool having sliced through Salzburg away in the week, where if they missed once chance, they missed two dozen – but scored a ‘worldie’ through an acute angled right-foot shot by Mo Salah, which is already a ‘Goal of the Season’ candidate.

So, Watford. Bottom of the table. A guaranteed three points then. Yes – all the way. No, no, no. I had spent the last half hour tweeting that we should not count our chickens before they were hatched. You all know what Liverpool can be like! Give them Man City or Spurs or Chelsea and they raise their game but anyone out of the so-called top-six then it’s a case of – which reds team will turn-up?

Sweets on the table as Davie for a change (thought I’d say that for you Carly) got the tea’s in and the game was about to kick-off.

Liverpool had Alisson, Virgil van Djke, Joe Gomes at the back with James Milner and Trent Alexander-Arnold as full-backs, as Jurgen sought to give Andy Robertson a rest. Gini Wijnaldum, Jordan Henderson and Xherdan Shaqiri in midfield – in an attacking tactical move. The usual trio were up top – Bobby Firmino, Mo Salah and Sadio Mane. That was a strong team. Liverpool these days are a strong team no matter who Klopp picks. That’s another reason why every red is delighted he is staying on for ‘Four and half More Years’ – if it was an Election sound-bite, he’d win by a majority land-slide.

The reds struggled. Going through the motions. I was lulled at first into feeling that we were in no danger but as the game germinated, Watford made me go from sitting comfortably to being on the edge of my seat and being fidgety. It was like we were just waiting for Watford to deservedly score.

Liverpool were so slack in the middle and at the back. Watford fluffed their lines as Troy Denney and Saar, mis-kicked right in front of the Kop’s six-yard box. We just shook our heads in dis-belief and relief in equal measure at our good fortune.

Liverpool cannot keep doing this in games – riding their luck.

From a Watford corner, the ball was not so much hacked away but passed intelligently out on a rapier counter as Bobby Firmino flicked it on and Sadio Mane galloped away like one of them horses at Chepstow last week, and in the blink of a Jurgen Klopp smile, the ball was on the edge of the Watford area. Mo Salah controlled it with his left, went inside a player and then majestically curled the ball with his weaker right foot as the ball went gracefully past Foster’s left.  

Somehow, it was 1-0.

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

‘I don’t think it will stay this way’ I said, meaning that I thought Watford would score at some point.

Well, we just about got to the break un-scathed, through a minor miracle.

It was like Liverpool – and I’ve said this before, are doing just the bare minimum to win games. It’s like they were trying to conserve energy. It was not making my ticker go slow I can tell you. The amount of times I got stressed in the whole game was nobody’s business.

Watford should have scored in the second half as well. At one point, Liverpool got so dis-jointed that even Virgil van Djke was feeling the strain and nerves as he rolled a back-pass to Alisson which just about went wide of Alisson’s right post.

‘If they are like this now, what will they be like if they are going for the championship?’ Davie said. Exactly. The way they are playing Liverpool may not be in that position if they carry-on being so charitable.

The ball was played up to the Kop End, as Liverpool attacked and then, thanks to a great cross, Sadio Mane leapt to score a bullet header. The other three celebrated and then a few seconds I did – just in case it was a figment of my imagination. A feeling of relief. However, VAR intervened and chalked Mane’s goal off due to offside.

‘He was off’ Dean said, as they showed the replays. It still did not make us feel any better though.

Jittery. Jittery at home to Watford. I rolled back the years and saw us hanging -on against Wimbledon when we were defending Champions, then that Darren Barton scored a cracker at the Kop End and it ended 1-1. I knew then that we had majorly messed-up and I feared the same thing was going to happen on this day.

Gini Wijnaldum was holding his leg and had to go off. Another injury. That’s Lovren, Matip, Fabinho – all out and even though we have fortunately got midfield numbers, it is a worry. It meant that Milner – who had signed a two-year contract extension the day before, went into the middle as Robertson came on. He immediately added more zest, as Carly so rightly pointed out.

With time ticking by and Liverpool using their experience to good effect to kill it at every opportunity and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain having replaced Bobby Firmino, who’d not had the best of games, the reds attacked.

Origi, who had just come on, raced down the inside right and messed his shot up. The ball fell to Mo Salah, on the right edge of Fosters six-yard box and Mo being Mo, only went and audaciously back-heeled the ball into the back of the net!

It was just fabulous. No wonder we celebrated another special goal by him, in the same week mind, with such happiness and relief.

‘That puts more pressure on them (Leicester)’, Dean said, as he prepared to go home and have a few chilling hours on the sofa, in front of the TV having performed his chores.

It sounded like a perfect afternoon!

15/12/19

Four Hours

Liverpool v Everton

4^TH of December, 2019

I had four spare, un-expected hours to take; how better to spend them than watching my beloved reds.

As I drove to Davie’s, I said the line-up to myself, as you do. Adrian in goals, Trent-Alexander Arnold, Andy Robertson, Virgil van Djke, Dejan Lovren at the back. With Jordan Henderson, Gini Wijnaldum and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain in the middle with Bobby Firmino, Mo Salah and Sadio Mane up top. I mean, Klopp very rarely changes this right?

Oh, how wrong I was.

It was Dean who greeted me at the door, with the ‘Oh Oh’s’ in the festive window on a fogyish December night.

Quickly he told me that Divock Origi and Xherdan Shaqiri were up top with Sadio Mane. At first, I did not believe him, thinking he was pulling my leg, I believed Davie even less as he is prone to try and joke about the side. However, it was no joke; Klopp had mixed things-up and we all agreed, it has gone stale of late.

Not only that, Adam Lallana was in the middle alongside James Milner – who would be captain and also Gini Wijnaldum, but my, what a strong bench though! We hoped the changes would do the trick.

With the soft sweets so easily being tucked into Liverpool started on the front foot, attacking the Anfield Road End which it has been revealed will be up-graded to the tune of another 7,000 seats, so pushing the grounds capacity past the 60,000 mark – cha-ching!

Mane was on top form. Mane was magnificent – aided by Origi who likes Everton. Soon the reds were ahead. Mane teed-up Origi and before you could say ‘Pickford failed to hold the ball’ Origi finished with a sublime touch, rounding Pickford and slotting the ball without breaking stride, into the bottom of Pickford’s goal and Liverpool were away!

Of course, I jumped off the sofa with baby Kelsey having also got off, as I celebrated!

In the blink of an eye Mane also played a sublime defence splitting angled pass through to Shaqiri and in one fell, left foot swoop, the ball was nestling into the bottom corner of Pickford’s goal. It was 2-0 to the reds and it was as though Shaqiri had answered our question – ‘Where is he?’.

‘There he is!’ – I pointed at the large TV screen, as ‘Shaq’ celebrated. It was only about twenty minutes gone.

A rout was on the cards.

Liverpool were playing like they could – with fast attacks and nice one-touch touches and generally enjoying themselves. It has been a while. They were free-flowing.

‘Keep a clean sheet and we’ve won’ Deano announced as we three had dreams of a 5 or 6 – niller.

However, Everton had not read the script and they got a needlessly given away free-kick and from it, Keane beat Lovren and shot home from close range, into the bottom right-hand of Adrian’s goal. 2-1.

It was sickening.

That was another clean-sheet gone in a flash. No wonder we all said about getting that strapping centre-half from Napoli; the man-mountain that is Kalidou Koulibaly.

Carly – Davie’s wife, who had earlier gone to a supposed meeting which had been nothing but a time – wasting exercise, had put out a box of Milk Tray – could she have been the equivalent of the suave, posh Milk Tray man! It was a dangerous thing to do, oh so tempting, so tempting, ‘Oh sod it’ I thought as I put a square one into my mouth – well, it was nearly Christmas!

Liverpool though soon got their two-goal advantage back as the ball was played out and Trent Alexander-Arnold was running with the ball down our left. Inside of him was Mane. Without breaking stride, Mane shot the ball with his left peg, at full pelt, past the right of Pickford, near the post for possibly one of his best ever Liverpool goals and he has scored a few crackers. 3-1.

It was just fan-tas-tic and a real joy to watch – a line which I have not written too often this season.

There was more though…

Dejan Lovren played a long ball from inside his own half and completely cut-out the midfield. Origi was onto it in a flash and controlled it first time over his head and smashed it into the top left-hand roof of Pickford’s net to send the red fans into a frenzy of joy which ‘Father Crimbo’ himself could not have left under the tree.

It was a stunning goal from the Belgian who likes Everton – having re-launched his Liverpool career in the same week last year, with a 96^th minute last gasp winner.

No wonder the Kop was in good voice as ‘Mane Christmas’ boomed around the ground on more than one occasion, along with a few lines of ‘Shankly’s Best’.

For the sake of repeating myself – it could have been 6 or 7 not just 5 or 6.

We were all enjoying it. The half had seemed to go on forever mind and it extended into the break for us though with a sucker-punch at the tinniest tail end, as Everton were allowed to cross in from Liverpool’s right and there was the dangerous Brazilian, shaven-headed, Richarlison, to fire into the bottom left-hand corner of Adrian’s goal, with a flying – un-marked header.

It was 4-2 when it should have been 4-0. I hoped that Davie’s new found election slogan for the Klopp Party, of ‘We don’t do clean sheets – only three points’ was going to come true again.

As two of Davie and Carly’s three girls rummaged through old, old, photo albums, to which there was a snap of a cheeky chappy blond lad who was the spit of the oldest Kayla, and Davie appeared to be talking to himself whilst making the half-time cuppa, we hoped that Klopp was going-off on one at the boys in red at our defensive lapses and also telling them that they just had to manage the game and get the three points.

The Liverpool players must have taken heed. They kept the ball more. It was the key. Trying to stamp out any possible Everton comeback.

Before we knew it, an hour had passed as Liverpool tried to hit Everton on the break – content to sit back. Still though I was on the edge of being very nervous. I mean – really? Yes, definitely, as even though we were two goals-up, just as the Dairy Milk were going down to the dangerous second layer, in an instant the game could have turned dodgy, with an Everton goal.

Deano summed it up, ‘It would be torture’, if Everton had scored it.

Jordan Henderson came on and Liverpool got a tighter grip.

Liverpool could have made the game even safer when all of a sudden Henderson, with almost his first touch, played in Sadio Mane and as he ran alongside Gini Wijnaldum, Mane should have scored, but Mane could only put the low shot wide of Pickford’s left post.

In an almost carbon-copy move, Henderson again picked-out Sadio Mane and again he could have scored but Mane tried to round Pickford on his right and roll the ball into the net. In the end the move came to nothing.

They were had been Mane sitters.

Everton should have made Liverpool pay as they had a glorious chance but Moise Kean flashed his shot wide of Adrian’s right post.

It was edge-of-your-seats football and with a minute to go, Gini Wijnaldum fired home from the right edge of Pickford’s area, as the ball ended-up in the bottom left-hand corner of Pickford’s goal to make it 5-2.

No wonder the Liverpool crowd had sung, ‘Going down’ to the Blues, as yet another defeat left Everton in the bottom three.

It was a relief once it was over and little Kelsey had long gone to bed having taken her medicine for Scarlet Fever – poor dab and Deano began to wrap-up his newly bought pc, after his other one had crashed recently. However, he had managed to save all the holiday Disney snaps though.

All in all, it had been an enjoyable four hours.

5/12/19 1360

No Fat Lady Singing Yet.

Liverpool v Brighton

29 November, 2019.

I thought that I would take advantage of the time and do a bit more ‘Crimbo shoppings’ – especially as I will not be around to do it next Saturday. Even if it meant clearing out half my wages; you know how it is! As though something was trying to tell me that I was spending too much, I managed to get my card blocked after failing to recall my number twice – correct me if I’m wrong but don’t we get three goes at it? Thank goodness it’s contactless!

A quick cup of coffee in Morrisons and yet more petrol – just where does it go as I only drive as far as Newport and back, if that, in the week and a hop and skip over to Davie’s; scene of many reds games.

I knew the Liverpool team before-hand; thanks to Facebook. Just gutted about Fabinho being out for up to an estimated 8 weeks…. Just what are Liverpool going to do without him? Well, we were doing well before he came into the team, about a year ago now so, maybe his loss may not be so bad but, we all know what a class player he is and has been over the last 12 months. Just Boss.

When I got there Carly – Davie’s wife answered. A least this time she did not have to shoot-off to work mid-way through the coming game – how horrendous. Dean was there and Davie of course; the two lads I’ve known for at least 15 years from going to Anfield and now watching Liverpool with them has become something laid and embedded in stone- not for no reason Carly has called us, ‘The Three Amigos’. She gets much valued, raw entertainment from us as we watch the reds; as we display the full spectrum of emotions; from anger to despair and sometimes joy and no wonder she laughs at us and sympathises and supports in equal measure.

There was someone missing though! A little girl. Kelsey. Just, where was she? The blond straight hair and angelic face was not to be seen. Always she wants to be by the side of her best friend, Davie. I scanned the room, and, and then, there she was, hiding, crouched down, between the back of the sofa and the wall! A bundle of happiness and joy – a radiant smile on her face.

Tea, sweets – soft ones, and then, the boys made me aware that Man City had just drawn 2-2 at Newcastle. Well I was absolutely delighted. We all were!! However, I sounded a note of typical, idiosyncratic caution, ‘It won’t mean anything if we (Liverpool) don’t win today’ as I tried to excitedly work out how many points Liverpool could possibly be ahead of City, ‘if’ and it was a big ‘if’ Liverpool managed to negotiate their way past Brighton.

Liverpool lined-up in the usual order with Alisson in goal, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson as full-backs – wingers, Virgil van Djke and Dejan Lovren as the centre-halves, Jordan Henderson as captain in the middle with Gini Wijnaldum – so which one of them was doing Fabinho’s job? With Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain as presumably the attacking driving force from the middle. Mo Salah, Bobby Firmino and Sadio Mane were up top. Not a bad team – in fact half of them make it into my ‘Liverpool team of the decade’ but that’s another story.

Brighton came and started well, as the home crowd loudly chanted sang out ‘Justice for The 96’ so that whoever watched the game, knew that everyone associated with Liverpool FC, was still fully behind the families.

Liverpool were playing better than they had been for a while and soon got into some sort of attacking groove. I have to say now that I can’t specifically recall too many efforts except that I think Bobby Firmino had a good chance and that Sadio Mane cut in from our left and delivered a great ball into the area. As Carly said, ‘He is playing brilliant’, or words to that effect. Quite.

The home team got a free-kick on the left edge of the Brighton penalty area. A bit way out but Trent Alexander-Arnold whipped the ball into the 6 – yard box and there was Virgil van Djke to head the ball into the top left-hand corner of Ryan’s net.

In a flash it was 1-0 to Liverpool.

Virgil ran over to the right and celebrated as we four also went ‘Yeah’s’ realising the possible significance of the strike.

The sweets were going down – especially those Marshmallow ones I’d got from ‘Home Bargains’ for under a quid. Well worth it people! Especially nice with a sip of tea in a cup which had ‘30’ on the front of it. I joked that it was my cup, with Carly saying that I looked younger than my age – ow, mind I did slip her a fiver before-hand! Carly was wrapped-up in the game as much as us though as she at one point began to sing along to the Kop booming-out, ‘Poor Scouser Tommy’; just a fab song and one I made a point of learning years ago when I got my season ticket; I too could not help but also sing along!

I was still moaning though. Moaning at Liverpool’s sometimes slackness of a pass here or there or not being ‘on it enough’. Maybe I was showing my age. Mind, we all were not happy – it was just our desire to see Liverpool win, win, win – a slogan for any Klopp Election Campaign, backed-up by results; not crappy empty promises.

Brighton were dangerous, no doubt about that, especially with that nippy Connolly getting through on a few occasions. A second goal was needed – fast.

Liverpool had three shots smashed in on the trot, as Brighton defended for their lives and at some point, the reds gained a corner, to the right of Ryan’s goal. Trent Alexander-Arnold whipped it into the box, signalling before-hand with a lofty arm held gesture. There was someone to head- butt it powerfully into the roof of the net. I did not know who had scored but was very grateful; it was only Virgil van Djke again!

Love him. Love him. Love him. Do you think I expressed my emotions enough there! He had single-headedly given Liverpool a massive advantage in the game and possibly in relation to the table.

‘All we got to do now is keep a clean-sheet’ Deano said.

Liverpool though tried their best to ignore Deano, especially when Dunk found himself clear, in the six-yard box and all he had to do was dink the ball home at Allison’s left near post and Brighton would have been back in the game.

There would have been nothing wrong with the goal had Dunk scored. It was just that Liverpool were just annoyingly, dropping-off the pace, yet again; which is always a danger – was it no wonder we were being so, so critical.

Half-time. Goals being shown from the other games as Davie got the tea’s in. Typically, British. You can drink any other drink but you can’t match a cuppa. End of story! Love it.

Liverpool nearly put the game to bed with a few more efforts ranging into the Kop End in the second-half. They just could not seal it though. To completely calm our nerves. Mo Salah was trying but everything he was doing seemed to end-up with the ball bouncing off him. The front three were not firing as even Sadio Mane went off the boil.

At one-point Davie said, ‘It’s like they have been told to play like this (Liverpool) by Klopp, to conserve their energy’. I think that there was a grain of truth in what Davie said. Liverpool it seems do just the minimum to try and win. As though they see the long-term not the short-term. As though almost, they have been told to pace themselves. If this is the case at all, it does not do anything for our emotions watching the games at the time but who can argue as somehow Liverpool had been picking-up the points at a rate un-known in modern times. Didn’t some manager (I wonder who!!) say that the season was ‘a marathon, not a sprint’?

Liverpool were holding all the cards as the time ticked on and the screen annoyingly kept flashing to other games with not score updates but near misses. ‘Get the game on’ we urged, more than once in anger, as Chelsea nearly went two-nil down to West Ham. ‘Liverpool is all that matters’ I shouted, as I watched us through a small square screen.

Jurgen Klopp had made two changes with Salah and Bobby Firmino having gone off. He still had one up his sleeve as in my head as I figured that Joe Gomes was going to come on with five minutes left. However, events on the field led Klopp to making another forced choice.

Brighton played a long ball over which floated to near the left edge of Alisson’s area. There was immediate danger and Alisson instantly made a decision as he ran out of his box and put his arm up to touch the ball as an attacker zeroed in on goal with Dejan Lovren behind the Brighton player. We all knew it was a straight red.

Liverpool, from being fairly comfortable had now gone to being a bag of nerves.

No wonder before-hand I had shouted down Davie’s jingoistic comments about possibly lifting some trophy or other before May in my most vocal dad voice. ‘Why, don’t you believe in us Crouch?’ I’d been asked. In my response I said ‘No, not yet’ as I am too old to believe yet and now, my scepticism was nearly being proved right.

Alisson went off and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain was sacrificed as Adrian came on. Not a bad deputy we all agreed; recalling that he had come in and did very well at the start of the season. ‘Three game ban then’, we all concurred matter-of-factly but as it turned-out, wrongly, as to the length of Alisson’s absence from our League campaign.

Adrian must have had a chat to every single reds player – maybe even arranging details of a ‘Xmas lads night out without the boss’ because he took an age to actually get into his goal – our goal, the goal which every Liverpool fan wanted him to defend with his life if need be. Brighton were not hanging around though, as soon as they got the nod, they took a quick free-kick and deservedly made Adrian pay for his pathing-about, as the ball rolled into the right-hand corner of his goal. 1-2.

Liverpool were from that moment on in danger of letting the lead slip in the game and their potential increased lead at the top of the table. It was that serious and we all knew it.

Brighton were on the front foot with about at least ten minutes left with Liverpool needlessly down to ten men thanks to sloppy play – as I did not hold Alisson completely to blame for the near disaster which was potentially un-folding at a nervy Anfield.

The visitors had a few pot-shots which Adrian saved and pushed away but on one of them he failed to keep hold of the ball and it spilled behind him and with our hearts in our mouths, Adrian managed to grab the ball at his left near post, before it trickled over the goal-line.

It was that close…

‘Game management’ I softly said, as Liverpool had a rare foray up-field as Origi got hold of the ball and then Liverpool naturally wanted to attack and score and kill the game off in one fell swoop but the attack came to nought when if they had used their heads they could have kept the ball in the corner and wasted a minute or so, as Deano suggested.

The ball kept coming back but do you know, Liverpool – European Cup winners in June when they had to keep their nerve in the final, somehow managed to I can only imagine, draw strength from that adversity – the same  strength they have shown to win games 2-1 for the ump-teenth time now, somehow; perhaps winning ‘old big ears’ that night has given them that extra one per-cent which is currently making the difference, as they again, held on and won…

It was relief. Relief that Liverpool had not let their chance slip to increase their lead.

As I began to shut Davie’s gate, in the dark evening, I said to him, despite Liverpool now holding an 11 – point advantage at the top, ‘I won’t believe that we are going to win it until the last two minutes of the season and no one can over-take us’.

I love Liverpool too much for my heart to be broken again – no wonder I am so sceptical; afterall, there is no fat lady singing yet…

Oh my, we were now dancing in Deano’s flat, Liverpool had been totally out-played and out-fought but not over-awed or out-thought; Liverpool had simply absorbed all the pressure like a sponge and had hit City with two rapier like counter-attacks.

‘Just keep it to nil’ I urged, as Dean concurred at one point. We all knew that if Liverpool could keep City out then they had a chance to re-group at the interval and hopefully come out and play better in the second-half.

The sweets were going down as quick as the cola as we collectively, along with Anfield, went ‘Phew’ when Michael Oliver, the ref blew-up for the interval. Just what would the second half contain?

It was more of the same. The interval may not as well have happened.

City again had all the ball. Suffocating Liverpool and continually threatened to score.

‘Get hold of the ball!!’ we screamed more than once.

Liverpool did keep it for a few seconds as they pussy-footed around with it – passing it back to Alisson through Trent, then Robbo, then Virgil van Djke,  then Alisson back to Virgil van Djke, Alisson to Dejan Lovren – it did take the sting out of the game but it was still giving us heart attacks, as one slip and City would have been in.

‘Get at them!’ Dean urged, commenting how weak City were at the back. Liverpool finally heeded all our advice.

There came a three – minute spell maybe when Liverpool properly passed it around, popping it in midfield, like we owned it, like against Spurs at home. With Fabinho and Gini Wijnaldum, getting into some groove and then Jordan Henderson drove down our right tram-line and he must have been listening to us, because when he got to the edge of the Kop End area, near the goal-line, he hooked in a delicious, inviting, please head me, cross, to the back stick, and there was Sadio Mane to dive (opps, sorry Pep, did I say dive – well, Sadio did then and he meant it alright) with his head where it hurts, hurtling the ball to the right of Bravo, to make Pep Guardiola eat his words, as Sadio Mane made it 3-0.

We all cheered to the rafters.

No wonder Manchester City were losing it. Kylie Walker their right-back had a go at Andy Robertson who just wound the City player-up even more by smiling at him. Raheem Stirling continually tried to entangle the reds defence in a succession of knots but was un-successful, despite his efforts and diving theatrics.

Liverpool actually got on top for a little while and looked menacing as the whole ground, which included Sean Cox, the Liverpool fan who had been battered to a pulp by Roma thugs nearly two years ago, roared the reds forward, with at one point, a clear rendition of ‘Every Other Saturday’ booming out (God I love that song).

Sergio Aguero went off and Jesus came on and with about a quarter of an hour to go, City finally scored. The ball came across from Liverpool’s left and there was Bernardo Silva, to shoot low and hard, to make it 1-3.

We all looked at each other – in fear.

City still had time to get something out of the game but Liverpool, with James Milner on in place of the exhausted Jordan Henderson, somehow kept City at bay, despite those corners which were played short and popped into the box. City should have scored from one of them and it was a miracle they didn’t.

I kept looking at the time and as the ball flew across our six-yard box for the umpteenth second I just desperately wanted the game to end, there and then, just like I had at the break.

Anfield’s crowd kept the tired 11 red-men going, being their 12^th man as they hung-on, despite having a two-goal advantage. After all is said and done (in my best Nessa, ‘Gavin and Stacey’ voice!) it was Manchester City we were playing against – probably the best side in the world.

At the end, I just felt relief.

It had been such a tense and enthralling, emotional game that we had all been magnetised to it…

12/11/19 1815.

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.