Don't Look Back in Anger

The noise is the first thing that strikes you. The faint pitter patter of hurried footsteps, match programme paper shuffling furiously, anxious voices softening into whispers before breaking into shrieks of climactic anticipation. Liverpool locals try to play it down: “A’ve seen ith betther ladh”; “Doesn’th bounce lakh it used to in the old days ladh”. Last weekend’s showpiece seemed to assuage any looming nostalgia. It also firmly detached any incertitude that might have gathered after an underwhelming start to the Premier League season. Liverpool versus Manchester United tends to have such a galvanising effect, merging tradition and rivalry into one universally appealing offering. The people just want to enjoy a match, a succulent, Premier League match. 

While the fixture remains particularly resonant, I discovered last Saturday that its appeal is not all encompassing. The good weather prompted me onto the green limousine towards leafy south Dublin suburbia. Myself and a few lads got the boat out to Dalkey island, where its stone structures and imposing battlements offered an insight into a time more hostile than our own. While modernity brings peace, I imagine Dalkey’s residents are still fearful of certain external influences. I envisage them standing atop the island’s pre-historic look outs, warily watching DART loads of outsiders arriving. An influx of GAA jerseys would be met by pleas for total war; an influx of soccer jerseys might merit something more extreme. We had lunch in the town’s main restaurant where a waitress asked us if we were going to “watch the rugby this weekend”. On the eve of Liverpool versus Manchester United, such questions deserve to be met with the utmost hostility. 

The game, in the end, was more performance art than competition: a professional production using set props to complement the primary protagonists. Much of the pre-match discourse revolved around Arne Slot and his more measured sporting philosophy. Strategy maketh the man, it would appear. Even before his side raced into a three goal lead, his composure was telling. As if to juxtapose his legendary predecessor, Slot paced up and down the sideline in much the same manner that a Hindu cow might plod in front of a slaughterhouse. 

Liverpool were rampant and truthfully, United fans should find comfort in a somewhat respectable scoreline. Liverpool now arguably boast the most potent attacking three in the English football: Salah, in his immaculate maturity, remains the epitome of Egyptian Pharaonic elegance; Diaz, a remorseless scavenger and eye-catching dribbler, is striking fear into ball and socket joints the world over; Casemiro, an industrious workhorse who perfectly complements the other two, is quickly becoming Liverpool’s most prolific attacking foil.

Man United, as has become customary, were circumspect and utterly devoid of any semblance of attacking strategy. Eric Ten Hag strikes me as the type of man who might countenance a winter invasion of Russia. His team resembles an absentee voter: they offer nothing by way of opposition and even less in the way of support. I understand United fan frustrations, I endured the Liverpool “banter years”. Forget about Russia, Roy Hodgson couldn’t have organised a successful campaign in the Rhinelands. I vividly recall my mother sending me to bed for punching a couch following a Wes Brown goal for United in 2007. I remember the nausea proliferating after Steven Gerrard’s stamp on Ander Herrera in 2015. Positive memories were less recurrent. Before Sky Sports became prevalent, I’d follow each game on Gillette Soccer Saturday from my parents’ bedroom. They had the original two pedal StepMaster stowed away in some cupboard and each weekend i’d take it out, pacing anxiously until Jeff Stelling advised me otherwise. If only I had stuck rigidly to that three meal Special K diet then I would “OHMYGOD, definitely have fit into that figure hugging red dress”. More fruitful times were to come.

Jurgen Klopp spoke openly about religion during his time as Liverpool manager. His uniquely German brand of Protestantism was less reliant on rigid Christian practice and expressed itself more openly as a way of life. He often spoke about how his perception of religion manifested itself through football. For decades, Manchester United boasted a semi-celestial figurehead whose cult-like persona almost imperceptibly became an object of worship. A problem occurs however, when this personality is forced out through old age and that void is filled by a more malevolent presence. For over ten years, Man United have been suffering the consequences of this structural inadequacy. 

Klopp never sought to be an object of worship and virulently scolded crowds who chanted his name. Instead, his teams played according to certain values in a management system more tolerant towards change. Arne Slot knows the challenges that face him and will be slow to develop any delusions of grandeur. The last Liverpool manager to win his first game at Old Trafford was Bob Paisley, who went on to win twenty trophies with the club. Ever the realist, i'll keep own my personal outlook conservative. We still employ Darwin Nunez, so any expression of certainty would be fickle. But somewhere across the Irish sea, a faint din is growing louder; the good times are comin’ backh ladh.