In My Red Heaven



What a fantastic result from an excellent game. I know it's just one game, and one for which we were always going to make a considerable effort, and you can't use it as a barometer for the rest of the season, and yet I can't help but allow myself a glimmer of hope that my team are back. We didn't even miss Master Sulky-chops as Suarez played to near perfection. The goals were all tapped in by Kuyt, but the brilliance belonged to Suarez, and maybe to King Kenny for some judicious transfer moves. Andy Carroll is yet to prove himself, but it was good to see him come off the bench for 16 minutes of play.



The mighty reds were absolute angels, darting nimbly around the pitch (even Carragher wasn't caught out of position too often - bless his Liver cotton socks) while the washed out whites (appalling kit from the red shite) were either totally ineffective (Berbatov was their only decent player - Rooney was so annonymous I only knew he was on the pitch when I heard the swearing) or dirty, cheating bastards. Him Outdoors says, 'They don't like it up them!' (It's true - half of his vocabulary comes from Dad's Army which is made only sadder when you realise the rest comes from Bull's Eye).

I'd have handed out at least three red cards for foul play (Van Der Sar - you can't elbow people in the neck just because you didn't realise you can't be off-side when the ball is played back to you; Rafael - attacking the ref in petulant display of temper tantrums is not a good look for anyone over the age of three; Nani - just because you're not getting your own way, kicking people is still wrong and if you can leap up and sprint to the ref in Rumplestilstkin rage, why do you need to be carried off on a stretcher?) and I'm hardly biased at all. In fact, I conceed that Carrager deserved his yellow for a fairly nasty foul on Nani although the latter's miraculous 'recovery dash' did nothing to further his cause.

SKY's halftime commentary featured the question - who has hit the goalposts the most in this season's premier league? Answer: Steven Gerrard. For what he lacks in subtlety, the man certainly has passion and whether the ball is sailing high, wide and none-too handsome into the stands or sinking sweetly into the back of the net, there is no question that 'he twatted that' as my friend Jersey Girl used to say. He blasted a few inches wide in the second half - I read a ridiculous comment that we might not need him any more at Anfield - just behave yourselves!

Kenny Dalglish responded with a smile and a wave as the Kop sang Happy Birthday to him - how cool would that be? Fergie the red-nosed w@#%er was in somewhat lesser spirits - he'll be off to blame the ref and his side's injuries - they hadn't got Vidic and Ferdinand; we didn't have Kelly, Agger or Aurelio after 24 minutes - and I'd be very surprised if he actually gives credit to the opposition (I'll bet he supports the All Blacks).

Of course I don't want the wrong side of Manchester (i.e. Salford) to win their 19th league title and hence one more than us - even my optimism has bounds; I know this is out of our grasp this season. I may even have to support Arsenal in the upcoming crucial games, and so might the red half of Mersyside. But this game wasn't about the title; it was about football, and we just played it better. End of.

Semi-Final speculation

Reports of the demise of European football have been somewhat previous. We heard so much about the dominance of South American football, and yet there are three European teams in the quarter-finals. Sure; the superstars have fallen by the wayside – Anelka; Cannavaro; Rooney; Ronaldo etc. – but the team-play rather than silky skills are rising to the top, and that is exactly what I like to see.

First up – Brazil v The Netherlands; the one everyone expected the world champions to win, including the world champions themselves. Expectation is a terrible thing – ask England – and the Netherlands quietly went about the business of puncturing Brazil’s illusions. Having scored a goal from an error (Felipe Melo was credited with the own goal), the Netherlands defended well and even managed to score again.

I heard the expression ‘Kuyt to the rescue’ and mention of his impressive work rate on several occasions. Just as Ferdinand might as well be christened ‘Given-away-by’, I seriously began to think that Kuyt’s sobriquet is ‘Unselfish-play-by’. Is there a prize for the most assists? If so, he should definitely be awarded it – perhaps it could be called the golden sock.

Melo’s game went from bad to worse when he was sent off for a dirty foul, stamping on the hamstring of Arjen Robben that could have ended his career. Actually, everyone in a blue shirt had a pop at Robben who spent most of the match flying through the air or rolling on the ground. The match became increasingly ill-tempered towards the end as Brazil were no longer the impressive exponents of the beautiful game and cards flew for deliberate hand-balls and simulation – forty fouls were given in all and Brazil showed more Gallic than Latin temperament problems; I can’t see Germany doing that.

The commentator quipped, “If Brazil are going out of the World Cup they are going out with a fight – quite literally.” He also referred to the Dutch defence as resembling “an orange jelly, just wobbling there – no wonder they’re nervous.” He must have so much fun thinking these things up...

I watched the Ghana v Uruguay game propped up in bed with a couple of female friends in a hotel room; there was honestly nothing dodgy about this (although the discussion about how nice the Ghanaians looked in their red and yellow strip against the bright green turf was a little iffy).

There was everything dodgy about Luis Suarez hand-balling Dominic Adiyiah’s definitely goal-bound extra-time shot off the line. He was given a red card and sent off. Ghana were awarded a penalty as the last action of the game – Asamoah Gyan should have scored and Ghana should have been in the semi-finals. He hit the cross-bar and they’re not.

The match went to penalties, the first of which Gyan took and scored with commendable coolness. Mensah and Adiyiah couldn’t convert their penalties – only one Uruguayan missed, and it’s all over for Africa. Penalty shoot-outs are a lottery: exciting when your team isn’t involved; sickening when they are. One of my friends was demanding, “Why can’t the ref just give a goal?” It’s a fair enough question, and I’m sure she’s not the only one asking, but them’s the rules and although there will a call for them to be changed in future, for now Uruguay are justifiably into the final four.

Asamoah Gyan was understandably distraught. So, slightly less understandably, were my tender-hearted maternal friends. “He’s not your son” I pointed out. “Yes, but he’s some poor mother’s son” one of them snuffled, somewhat illogically. I have seen this happen to England before and wasn’t going to waste my tears on other countries’ sons.

Speaking of cheating hand-of-God South American nations, I thought I might have split loyalties when it came to Argentina v Germany; who do I dislike least? After all; we’ve fought wars against both these countries (okay, so it might be hard to find a country that Britain hasn’t found itself in conflict with over the centuries). As it happened, all it took was one look at the puffed-up pigeon-chested Maradona to make up my mind and have me screaming at the TV, “Come on Germany!”

And they are a good young side with decisive passes and innovative play – of course, the word ‘clinical’ is never far from any description of the Fatherland, and it was a definitive demonstration of what to do with that unpredictable beach ball – split the defence and put it in the back of the net – but it was sublime to watch.

I like Lionel Messi and I like Javier Mascherano; in them I think Argentina has the best striker and defensive midfielder in the world, but as we have seen; this isn’t a tournament for individuals; it is a exhibition of cooperation and the Germans worked together as a tight unit, yes, alright, even an efficient one. There was added satisfaction in the fact that we put two goals past them and Argentina couldn’t even manage one. England don’t look quite so woeful in that light.

And then there’s Spain... People have been calling them under-performers, but they are through to the semi-final after grinding out a 1- 0 victory against Paraguay. The game had end-to-end missed penalties, disallowed goals, retaken penalties, unawarded penalties, squandered free kicks and one of the tightest mid-field contests seen so far in this tournament. Spain may not have set the footballing world alight, but you don’t have to play pretty football to win.

The only bet I have that is still vaguely alive is for Torres to pick up the golden boot. It doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, but he could always prove me wrong by bagging a swag of goals against Germany and progressing through to trounce the Dutch (assuming, as I do, that they beat Uruguay) with yet more bulging of the old onion bag. Like I said, it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.

Up Where We Belong

Capitan Fantastico does it again as Stevie G leads his side to another glorious victory - 5-1 against Newcastle at St James' Park. Though I felt slightly sorry for Shay Given (it would have been at least ten if it weren't for his excellent goal-keeping) and didn't like to see little Michael (Owen) with blood pouring from his knee, that's not enough to wipe the smile from my face. The boys done good.

Even Lucas and Benayoun played well - and I'm not usually forthcoming in my praise for them. Mascherano's return is welcome - he adds the needle to the midfield and his challenges are of the 'uncompromising' variety, shall we say. I would have liked to see Robbie Keane come on and so, by the look on his face as he smarted on the bench, would he.

Of course I miss Torres, but they managed admirably without him. Babel is becoming a tower of strength (sorry) and it's always nice to see Hyypia head one into the back of the net. I still rate Kuyt for his hard work, positional play and tactical awareness, even if he does lack a certain finesse and you could probably make an entire DVD of shots of him tripping over the ball - I'm sure someone already has.

Benitez managed a smile, which may be a first, and didn't even look too annoyed to be bothered by a mobile-phone-wielding fan as he sat in the stands supposedly recovering from surgery while chattering away and passing directions through to Sammy Lee.

Watching Liverpool must be one of the worst ways to relax - I certainly bite off all my fingernails and feel my heartbeat rise each time they step on the pitch - but at least this time he was rewarded with three points and a chink of daylight at the top of the league.

So Liverpool will now head into the New Year at the top of the table where they belong. I'm sure someone knows when was the last time they did this. I don't. What I do know is that I believe they can go all the way this season. Bring it on! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.