Liverpool Red Diary 27

by Joel Rookwood

There were times when my beloved club was under the stewardship of Souness and then Evans, that whilst in a state of desperate desire for whatever sorry chapters of our history we were living through to come to an end, I must confess a part of me wished for the odd devastating result, so to emphasise the severity of our despairing predicament. In such sullen days back in the 1990s we existed on a knife-edge, teetering just above the border of the unacceptable, oscillating weekly between mediocrity and obscurity.

The board were patient, for it's the Liverpool way so to be, but ultimately it became clear that neither manager was right for the club, and both in turn duly departed. When Houllier took sole charge of team affairs, there was much work to be done, and he set about revolutionising the club. Few could have predicted our rise from zero to heroes in less than three seasons that was masterminded by the Frenchman, culminating in the quintet of trophies won in the space of sixth months during 2001. And then came the runner's up spot in the league, our true bread and butter, together with a respectable quarterfinal place in our debut season in the reformatted champions league the following term, all despite a mid-season life-threatening illness to the manager.

But thinking back to the dark days of the '90s, and they were indeed bleak, the strange cognitive conflict I experienced, secretly yearning for the odd painful defeat, was not completely nonsensical. For it's the more extreme, excruciating defeats that cost a manager his job, and although every Liverpool fan looks back and grimaces at some of the results Souness and Evans achieved, such embarrassment undoubtedly speeded up the onset of positive action. If these agonizing experiences saved me another year of mediocrity, than I'd have to say I'm grateful to those woeful teams who were cheeky enough to inflict misery upon Liverpudlians, costing those incompetent managers their jobs.

But as for this season, after nine wins and three draws from our opening league encounters, with the finale of a fascinating Champions League group to look forward to, not to mention the chance of further glory in the domestic cups, it would have been difficult to believe back in November what the remainder of the season would have in store for us. Fifteen games without a league win – the worst league run in fifty-odd years, a painful exit from the Champions League, and disappointing evictions from the both the FA Cup and the UEFA Cup, inflicted upon us at 'fortress Anfield' were among the list of devastating occurrences.

And if some reds fans have become somewhat disillusioned with this Liverpool team, keen to see that the defeats at Middlesbrough, Fulham, Sunderland, Newcastle, Sheffield United, and Birmingham should not go unnoticed, it appears certain sections of the Liverpool support prayed for some similarly drastic action as I hoped for back in the '90s to occur against Man United this season, so to effect change. Because, as painful defeats go, the two inflicted upon us by our bitter rivals this term have been particularly brutal. So whoever the Liverpool fans who craved such misery were, they can't have been regular attendees of our games, no-one loves the club that much, that they would 'wish' to endure such painful experiences, unfolding in front of their very eyes in a bid to see positive reaction on a more generic scale. No-one whose heart is so intertwined with the club's fortunes could have seen the bigger picture.

But I can offer no other explanation for the misery we have suffered, the indignity we have had to live with as we left the grounds after the two league games against United this term. And for those armchair supporters uncommitted enough to actually want us to suffer in the way we did – for the greater good – your work is done. For there is no way the club can ignore these crushing defeats. A summer of pro-activity now surely beckons.

But the key difference between the reigns of Souness and Evans and the Houllier regime relates purely to the individual in charge. Under the leadership of the former managers we were going in the wrong direction, sliding down a slippery snake. Now we're on a ladder and we are - generally speaking - on the right course. This year has undoubtedly been a step back, and a massive one at that, but the foundations are in place to ensure we build on the work already conducted. The board is the right one for the club, as is the management team; some of the players however clearly are not. If this season has proved anything, then it has shown us that we are a seriously lacking in certain areas, and such problems must now be addressed.

On the back of the UEFA Cup defeat and a disappointing run of results and more importantly performances in the league, we were beaten at Anfield by Man United after a run of five consecutive wins against them. And it was no ordinary defeat. It was horrific. Such was the extent of the pain inflicted on Kopites that day that local news programmes should have brought the story forward from the concluding sport section to the bit between the reports on war and famine. It was that bad.

Out-of-sorts 'keeper Jerzy Dudek saw a back pass trickle through his legs, with the onrushing forward Diego Forlan gratefully picking up the ball and slotting it into an empty net. The Uruguayan then doubled United's lead with Dudek again at fault.

'Diego he comes from Uruguay, he made the Scousers cry' – the United fans now sing and probably will continue to do so for the next millennium. Despite a Sami Hyypia goal, we were unable to pull back the deficit, rendering the single strike merely consolatory.

But in the Worthington Cup final three months later, pride was restored when Liverpool comprehensively beat the Mancunians in the battle of the English giants, a victory that was as sweet as they come. Particularly for Jerzy Dudek, who was man of the match. On Saturday though, as if we needed reminding that all is not quite right on Planet Liverpool, Manchester United provided a timely reminder with one of the most excruciatingly vexatious defeats I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing.

Liverpool FC vs manunitedplc.com/nike/thetreble/scouseobsession/1969-1992didnotexist(clubdefootball) games are invariably heated encounters. But I'm sure everyone packed into the Theatre of Commercialism expected the game to last a little longer than three minutes. For that's how long it took the referee to ruin the game, after he awarded United a penalty and sent off our captain in one fails swoop.

But if you think I'm about to just blame the referee for this ultra painful defeat, I'm not. I've seen the incident once, and that was from about 120 yards, so I can't really comment. People said it was harsh, but whether it was a good decision or not, these things happen. You're as likely to be a benefactor as a victim in these situations, whether it's at Old Trafford or not, and that decision, although it was clearly a contributory factor, was not the sole cause of the defeat. This painful thrashing was inflicted upon us largely because we simply weren't good enough. We have one system, one way of playing, and if it doesn't work, we rarely seem capable of changing it. When we won the treble we had the right balance, and although we approached most games the same way it didn't matter because we rarely put ourselves in the position where we had to chase games and effect a change in the system.

But the initial devastating blow on Saturday proved a knock from which we were unable to recover. After conceding the penalty and seeing Ruud Van Nistelrooy convert the resultant spot kick, with Hyypia granted an early bath after only four minutes, the game was dead and buried. One of the reasons our section was fairly quiet during that game (and we shouldn't kid ourselves that just because we outsang them we were loud – they're hardly a barometer of volume) was because we didn't believe (and with some justification) we could get a goal back. Baros, our only realistic goal threat on the field was sacrificed immediately after the sending off, and Biscan came into the centre of our defence to help out Traore. It wasn't promising.

We needed to score, and in my opinion if we're chasing a goal at least one of Owen, Baros or Mellor need to be on the pitch. To play eighty-six minutes without all three when we desperately needed to score was never going to be a recipe for success. Owen predictably got injured against England, which left only the inexperienced Mellor to come on, which Houllier decided against, after Baros had been replaced. The manager defended his decision to leave Heskey on by claiming the former Leicester hit man presented more options in a defensive manner than Baros. The only problem is, I think he forgot about he importance of getting a goal back. But Houllier wasn't to know he would have to make such an instinctive decision so early in the game, so adopting a critical approach to his part in the day's events seems futile. Introducing Mellor would have been a massive gamble, and I can understand why he didn't take the risk. And although with four forwards at the club it seems selfish to complain about not having enough in the squad, the simple fact is that we don't. After Saturday, that's an assertion with which no Liverpudlian can argue.

Meanwhile with Liverpool not making any plans to attack, United threatened, albeit unconvincingly to increase their lead, but were denied by some decent defending. The makeshift centre back partnership actually looked fairly dependable for the hour that followed the goal, with Riise and Caragher also proving solid enough. United's lacklustre attack posed little threat for the remainder for the half, but they didn't need to, for Liverpool didn't look like even getting a shot on target, never mind scoring. The outcome was practically a certainty.

If United were to score a second goal it was always going to kill off any fading hopes we harboured of getting something out of the game. And when they almost inevitably did, the fact that Van Nistelrooy doubled United's lead with a goal from the penalty spot served only to rub salt into the wounds. The incident that saw Scholes earn a penalty from Biscan was a collision for which I had a far better vantage point, and again I refuse to complain - it looked like a penalty to me. But when you go two goals down in the back yard of your biggest rivals, you seem to feel a stinging sense of injustice when both goals come from the penalty spot, regardless of whether the correct decisions were made. But nevertheless, they all count, and the second goal served as a fatal blow. We'd been stabbed in the heart, but the faint flicker of life that remained in us was relinquished with the administering of a bullet between the eyes, as the Dutchman smashed the ball home.

The United fans were in seventh heaven, but were decidedly quiet about expressing it.

Though when the England captain came under a bit of stick form the Liverpool section, his fan club did perk up a little singing, 'Did you cheer when Beckham scored?' This was obviously a reference to his tireless efforts in an England shirt that saw him claim a goal in Wednesday's game against Turkey. I'm sure they level this at every opposing team who visit Old Trafford administering some form of abuse at him, but they really shouldn't sing that to us. Some scally aptly replied 'Did we f!$k, we hate them more than we hate you!' He didn't quite mean that I'm sure, but they got the picture. As if stirred from their silence the Manchester 'faithful' then united in singing 'there's only one Keano'. We soon ended that though by reminding them that, 'Keano thinks your w$!kers'. And short of the odd cry of 'United', that's about all they had to offer, so with that they went back to sleep. At times it was hard to believe we were witnessing the biggest game in British football.

We may have out sung our rivals, but in truth all we were really concerned with was that our team did not concede a third goal. But with eleven minutes on the clock, a third duly arrived. It may be no consolation, but at least this one was from open play. Giggs latched on to an excellent David Beckham cross on the edge of the six yard box, steering the ball out of the reach of Dudek who could do nothing to prevent the defeat looking more convincing.

But after the third had gone in the Liverpool spectators realised that the players must have been hurting too, and were in need of our support. So we gave it to them. It was either sing or cry, so we sang. We screamed our hearts out, which must have shown the players and the management that we are behind them, even though the football we are paying silly amounts of money twice a week to watch is not good enough. We are loyal to the core, and deserve more. It's been a pretty heart-wrenching season, and I haven't missed a minute of it, and whilst this wasn't the most disappointing performance of the season, it's by far the worst result. Getting beaten 3-0 at Old Trafford is a travesty, dodgy referee or not dodgy referee. But we stood by them as only Liverpudlians do, and the debt must be repaid. The only redeeming factor as we ensured our anthems echoed around Old Trafford in the closing stages of the game was that at least it couldn't get any worse. Or so we thought.

But to our horror, there was to be a final sting in the tail, for in the final minute, Solskjaer smashed home a low shot from the edge of the area to make it seem like a rout, which those of us who saw the game knew it clearly wasn't. I was more satisfied with this performance than with the game in December, where we were only beaten by a single goal. But the four-goal margin didn't tell the whole story, and it's with that fact that we can console ourselves.

We were beaten, and on paper at least we were beaten well. But after we'd gone four down, it was me who was dragged off my seat no fewer than four times as I stood on the plastic with arms in the air singing my heart out to show my love for my club. The United fans must have thought we were crazy - many would have fled the scene. But even in the face of such a disaster we will not be silenced. As one Liverpool flag states, 'There is a light that never goes out'.

Predictably the mood around the ground after the game was less than pleasant. Relations between fans of the two clubs grow ever strained, and things almost inevitably turned ugly. Songs celebrating the Munich air disaster, in which several members of Busby's 1958 United team perished, were responded to with cries of 'ninety-six was not enough' a reference to the Hillsborough disaster of 1989. Such a flow of abuse hardly serves to inspire tolerance. But when United play Liverpool it's not a question of whether trouble will ensue, but how much. Thankfully outside the ground at least it was kept to minimum. Though I'm quite sure that the trouble continued in Manchester long after we departed the scene.

But after witnessing such a soul-destroying afternoon's football, my heart was too heavy to take a further battering, which was probably a good job considering the nature of the songs that United fans were singing. That's probably the least affected I've ever been by such cruel behaviour. I only hope I'm not becoming desensitised to such vocal brutality.

The trouble such as it was soon died down, and before long we were back on our coaches, ready for the forty-minute ride back to Liverpool. And just as we were leaving the car park, a group of Chinese United fans passed us waving red flags. I could only sit and pray that they wouldn't get caught up in something they clearly don't understand by the few Liverpudlians yet to board their coaches. And thankfully and unsurprisingly, they were left to celebrate the win, obviously unaware that they had just passed through the scene of a mini riot. Had they have walked through that car park moments earlier, when tempers were raging, they might not have been so fortunate. Man United fans they may be, but the flags they were waving around carelessly in the face of angry Liverpudlians, hardly sported any anti-Scouse sentiment, but instead the inscription was merely a single word – 'Vodaphone'. Need I say anymore? (What is more, on the opening page of United's website there is a fanzone section, which begins with a comment from Rahul Ganjoo of India!) You simply can't drag people who clearly don't understand what it is to be a football fan in to such complex matters.

On the way home, I resisted the urge to turn my phone off, in order to delay the inevitable onslaught from delighted Evertonians, and I'm glad I did for I got a text message from a friend who is a season ticket holder at Charlton. They were thumped 6-1 at home to Leeds, the side we wiped the floor with last week, and on hearing of his misfortune, there were signs that the smile was beginning to return to the old face. At least someone had it worse than us.

We endured a truly harsh experience at Old Trafford on Saturday, but the club must now ensure we haven't suffered for nothing. The pain has been inflicted, and no cement is thick enough to cover up the cracks in our squad. I can only hope we look back on this sorry day in years to come proud to have been martyrs for a worthy cause.

For our quest is the league title. Any other trophy we pick up along the way to winning the one Shankly called, 'our bread an butter' would serve merely as a bonus, as every man, woman and child fortunate enough to be brought up a Liverpudlian craves that league crown. And we have done our part in making sure it comes sooner rather than later. Houllier, the rest is down to you.

And for those of you who would rather see Houllier replaced as Liverpool manager, with Martin O'Neill or some other unproven manager with no knowledge of the European market assume the Anfield hot seat instead, then don't reply to this essay until next May. For I believe that next season will be very special. Shankly went five years without a trophy and the idiots who doubted him then I'm sure celebrated the UEFA Cup and FA Cup triumphs of '74 with a touch of guilt in their hearts.

Don't kid yourself that 2001 was lucky – that's a ridiculous assertion. Remember Roma, Cardiff, Barcelona. They were simply monstrous occasions to name but a few. Back then we had a good team, but remember who built that team, and remember who is the only man to find the solutions every Kopite yearns for after a year of misery. So, for those of you who doubt the direction the current regime is taking us in, take a moment to remember Liverpool under Evans and Souness. Remember the players, the results, the headlines. Houllier has a few remaining pieces of the jigsaw to find, and when he does, the title will be ours, and his doubters will be left to eat their words. I, for one, hope they choke.After the humiliation of Manchester and that Old Trafford nightmare, Houllier was faced with the task of picking up the side for the visit of Fulham on Saturday, in what was a pretty uninspiring encounter between the London side and our own.

Now I usually start by commenting on the opposition's fans, but this week the rant will be far briefer. It should be an epic lament of the 'cockneys', assuming any Fulham fans have actually been to London, but to be honest I can't be bothered. It would be too easy. When you beat Stromsgodset 11-0 in European Competition, like we did en route to winning the 1984 European cup, you don't rub it in their fans' faces. It's not worth it - there's no comedy in stating the bloody obvious. And Fulham's fans are the worst in the league, by an absolute mile. In fact a mate of mine captains Hyde United, a struggling side propping up the regional division, one below the Nationwide conference, and their away fans are far more vocal than Tigana's lot. And that's not even an overstatement. But the Londoners are that bad, I can't bare to talk about them anymore. I can only thank God I wasn't raised in West London.

The game was preceded by a minute's silence, to remember the ninety-six victims of the Hillsborough disaster of 1989, which impressively, was impeccably observed. Such public moments of reflection have in the past not seen such a respectful response, so thanks to Fulham and their fans, it was much appreciated.

But that is the extent of my respect for the Londoners however, as they also respectfully stood and listened to our weekly rendition of 'you'll never walk alone'. They didn't even attempt to compete with the singing of our hymn, and there was something sad about this reverential, almost awed hush. I almost missed the inevitable 'sign on, sign on with a pen in your hand, and you'll never get a job…' that away fans religiously blurt out in direct competition, with differing degrees of zeal, in reaction to the anthem.

Houllier sensed that the Londoners would not be throwing much at Liverpool, and opted for an attacking line up which featured Heskey and Smicer in midfield with Owen and Baros in attack. With the two strikers looking impressive and hungry for goals in the opening period, it was perhaps a little surprising that the opening goal fell to the enigmatic Heskey. Owen and Baros missed a hatful of chances between them before the former Leicester hit man got Liverpool under way shortly before the interval. When the goal came, it was by no means a classic, but it did at least serve to send the home side on their way to a vital three points.

Fulham rarely threatened, and as a side were a reflection of their supporters - flat and uninspiring. The only reason I was looking forward to this game was for it was to be my first glimpse of John Harley since he turned professional. I was at school with him when I was a schoolboy at Gillingham FC, and haven't seen him play since his pre-Lilleshall days. But Harley was missing from the starting eleven, and so I still haven't sent him play professionally. The only other player worth looking at was Steve Finnan, the Fulham right back who is supposed to be on his way to Liverpool in the summer. He did nothing to impress me, but it's hard to tell how good a player some one is when they're playing in Fulham's back four.

As the Londoners refused to have a go at us, it was Liverpool who, almost reluctantly, added to the scoring on the hour mark. Three minutes before the second Liverpool goal Fulham replaced Pierre Wome with Abdeslam Ouaddou, a substitution that epitomizes everything that's wrong with Fulham. I'd be surprised if their own fans have heard of these two. I couldn't even tell you from which continent they hale. Anyway the Scousers doubled the lead through none other than Mr Owen, who after being put through by Smicer, ran forty yards and finished with a goal his performance certainly warranted.

After scoring the second however, the game petered out into a bit of a non-event. Fulham hit the bar through Saha in the closing stages, but even had this shot have proven to be goal bound, it would never have served as anything more than consolatory. The game was won before the Fulham team got on the Liverpool-bound coach in London, and the immediate future certainly looks bleak for the Cottagers. I just hope they don't offload any of their overpriced overrated foreigners on us if they get relegated, which I have to say wouldn't fill me with sadness. Money got them to the Premier league, and I for one don't think they deserve to be here. I'd much rather see them in the first division. Wolves, a club which deserves a stab at top-flight football, coming the other way.

And as for Liverpool, for some reds fans and ex players the season is virtually over. In fact certain former Liverpool favourites have been very vocal of late in their criticism of the current regime, which is never good to see. I can handle Mark Lawrensen dishing out weekly praise to Man United and dismissing Liverpool at every opportunity. A great player he may have been, but he's undoubtedly an idiot and we're used to him acting like one. But it's disappointing to see other more respected Liverpool legends such as Ian St John have a go at the management. I've always loved the Saint, he used to live on the same street I was brought up in Childwall, but some of his comments defy belief.

The embarrassing thing is that whenever a former Evertonian speaks out, it's only in support of the manager or the team. And our neighbours from across the park have seen some dark days recently. It's just not the Liverpool way to be critical, and I wish these ex players would just get behind Houllier, even if they don't like his way of playing, or keep their opinions to themselves. We haven't got a monopoly on English football; we've no divine right to win the league every year. And having a go at the manager every time we don't win the title is hardly productive.

It won't surprise you, I'm sure to hear the league title isn't Anfield bound this season, but there is still plenty of football to look forward to in the five remaining games of the season. First up there's the most eagerly awaited derby in over a decade at Goodison Park, then Charlton, who we owe a battering to, after they beat us at their place. West Brom are up next, which is the only ground in the league I've never been to, with Man City and Fowler's first visit back at Anfield since he left the club last season next, and finally Chelsea away on the last game of the season, in what could (although it admittedly seems unlikely at this moment in time) be the decider for the final Champions League place. If nothing else, the final game of the season could decide who is top dog on Merseyside, and for that reason alone it could prove to be a hugely important game.

There maybe no cup finals or championship deciders to look forward to, but rest assured, this season still has plenty to offer for all you loyal Liverpudlians out there. After that, next season will see vast improvement, of that I have no doubt. I only wish we could ask for the patience of a Saint as we bid to bring the Championship back to its rightful home.

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