Southampton, Man City and Spurs: Six From Nine

The concept of this piece was drawn up on Thursday 28^th August. Neil had invited me to write for We Are Liverpool and I duly accepted. It was going to be printed. Printing of my work probably means extra effort, consciously or not.

I’d decided to write an upbeat review of our opening three games of 2014/15. That’s correct, an upbeat review of a trio of football matches, 72 hours before the third of those had kicked off. And 72 hours after a humbling 3-1 defeat at the Etihad.

I was going to be bullishly upbeat. How could I be so sure? What if we got humiliated at White Hart Lane?

Well that was never going to happen. Because we are Brendan Rodgers’ Reds, and we now do football really well, regardless of results.

Mario’s arrival also helped with the upbeat thing, admittedly.

So, to the real business.

There was an eerie hush around Anfield in the opening minutes of the season curtain-raiser against Southampton. A quiet anxiety. That’s what I felt anyway. Luis had gone; could we hit the heights of 2013/14? Could we make another charge for number 19?

The uneventful start did nothing to ease my tension, or answer those questions.

That was until Jordan Henderson did what Jordan Henderson does. He hounds. Hounds until he has the ball. His ball. Then he plays a pinpoint pass, with his weaker foot, setting Raheem Sterling through on goal. Sterling slots past an onrushing Fraser Forster, with remarkable serenity. A similar serenity to which Demba Ba had shown 112 days earlier in an identical position in front of the Kop, ripping the heart from every watching Red as the title was snatched from under our noses. That goal drew a line under one challenge; Sterling’s launched another.

We turn it on now, right? We score loads of goals. Merciless goals. We did it last season. We even did it last week against Dortmund.

No. Didn’t happen.

Southampton, despite their summer dismantlement, played their way back in. Clyne equalised, and they looked more likely to win. Were we still hungover from May?

Brendan Rodgers looked back and saw something on his bench he has rarely possessed in his Liverpool tenure up to now: options. A trick up his sleeve. Joe Allen was the first card he played. The dynamic Welshman immediately transformed us, infectiously buzzing about. There was a sudden urgency. Then another card – summer arrival, and boyhood Red, Rickie Lambert. And a switch to the diamond.

We went slightly more direct. Style went out the window. Three points were a must, with two tough away games to come.

Finally. With just over 10 to go, Sterling rose like a salmon, and Sturridge got the slightest of touches to guide the ball into the Anfield Road net. 40,000 red roars. Relieved Roars. Rodgers went mad. He loves goals, our Brendan. And he knew how important this one was.

Opening day, three points. Take them and run.

Next up was City. At the Etihad. We don’t really seem to win there. Like us, they limped to a win in their first game of the campaign last weekend, without really getting out of third gear. “I’d much rather play them now than later in the season”, I opined to my mates. They seemed to agree. This felt like a good time to take on City.

Team news broke. Allen in for Lucas – good. Alberto Moreno makes his debut – good.

Raheem Sterling started on the right of a 4-3-3, underlining his versatility. He’d had spells on the left and in the 10 behind a front two last weekend. Rodgers clearly wanted him running in diagonally from the right and isolating Martin Demichelis.

We looked comfortable in the first period of the game. For the first 40 minutes, in fact. We knocked the ball around with an assured swagger, perhaps just lacking some penetration and a switch of tempo in the final third. In the back of my mind was our visit here on Boxing Day last year, though. We did well in the opening exchanges that day too, but it was City who possessed the cutting edge when it mattered, and we somehow went in behind at the break.

That happened again here.

One moment of nonchalance, in an area of the pitch you don’t need to see nonchalance, and Stevan Jovetic pounced. Half time: 1-0 City. De ja vu.

The football match recommenced with a similar pattern after the break. Jovetic was at it again; he loves scoring braces against us, that lad. Great goal to be fair. I took solace in Sky’s occasional tendency to pan to our unavailable players in the stand (mainly Mario Balotelli), due to their perverse obsession with Mario Balotelli. Alongside the Italian sat Adam Lallana, Jon Flanagan and Jordon Ibe. There may have been one or two more, but I can’t remember, and frankly that doesn’t matter. My point is that we’re building a squad, and that should make you excited.

Lazar Markovic replaced Phil Coutinho after an hour. The Serb immediately seemed to bring us back to life. He flitted about on the left like an arrogant butterfly. Not a bad arrogance; a necessary arrogance. He’s going to be a player.

Talking of players, Manuel Pellegrini introduced quite a good one in the 68^th minute: Sergio Aguero. The Argentine jogged onto pitch, collected a Jesus Navas through ball and passed it into the back of the net. Does anyone know where Simon Mignolet was, or what he was doing? Ludicrous. 3-0. Game over.

For the second week running, Rickie Lambert was sent on in the closing stages. And for the second week running, he caused a bit of chaos (and a goal). It was only a consolation, although had he buried another chance which fell to him a few minutes later, it could have been more than that.

3-1. Ah well, not actually too disheartened. City are very much the benchmark.

Brendan Rodgers lifted my spirits further post-match. He knows what to say, doesn’t he? He reminds us that we’ve taken three points from two games so far; two games from which we gained zero points last season. Brendan always knows what to say.

A game we did take points from in 2013/14 was Spurs away. And how. We can’t repeat that though, surely. They’re better now, led by the impressive Mauricio Pochettino. Four wins from four in all competitions for them so far.

This was huge. Third game of the season and already it felt like a must-not-lose. Sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? But it was true, especially heading into the international break. Having to cope with a loss gnawing away at your soul, without an opportunity to put things right for 10-14 days, is agonising. Watching England (at the moment) makes it torturous. It’s the anathema of football for me.

Luckily, we didn’t lose. We were excellent. And we very nearly repeated last campaign’s 5-0 scoreline.

Mario started for his debut, which surprised me. I have this fixation for unleashing new signings from the bench in their first game, and I thought this would have been particularly wise here given Balotelli had played less than 200 minutes of football in pre-season.

I mentioned this to Brendan, in my imagination. He laughed (also in my imagination), and said something like, “Mario’s in good condition; I’ve seen him all week in training. We felt starting him would help us regain momentum after last Monday.” Fair enough. Good response Brendan, if I may say so, having composed it myself.

At half-time I apologised to Rodgers for even daring to question him. And Pascoe. We were 1-0 up and Balo could have had a hat-trick. He seemed to be everywhere. People said he wouldn’t work, wasn’t bothered. I hope those people watched this game. He buzzed around, somewhere between Sturridge (low) and Henderson (high) on the buzz-o-meter. Most significantly, his presence was a distraction for Spurs. Sturridge and Sterling had space; something they were perhaps starved of against City.

The second half felt a lot like last season. Stevie placing a penalty, and full-backs scoring mad goals. Alberto Moreno, excellent all day, nabbed the ball from an incredulous Andros Townsend just inside our half, and ran. He ran until he reached the Spurs penalty area and then smashed it across Hugo Lloris into the bottom corner. He celebrated like a maniac. I like Alberto Moreno; so should you.

Lazar Markovic then came on with his flittering butterfly, necessary arrogance, again. A good arrogance. Another 20-year-old made his second appearance too: Emre Can. Powerhouse. How is he not at least 26 years old?!

Last but certainly not least, a mention for Raheem Sterling’s performance. Pace, power, artistry, intelligence, industry; he’s got it all. What a player we have on our hands.

Liverpool Football Club is thrilling.

Six from nine. We’re going again.