June the 1st, at 9.00am, a press conference is indeed called.
The conference room is alight with smiles. Rafael Benitez sits down, a calm manner about him, and a nervous Rick Parry takes his seat next to Rafa. Benitez knows he can’t smile, but he can barely contain his excitement. Rick Parry begins the press conference.
“I have called this press conference myself, not Mr Benitez, because, despite the events of the 24th of May, I have decided to hand in my resignation. I believe this is the best move for me, and more importantly for the club”.
All lies, of course. Parry has begrudgingly been forced out of the Club by Rafa and the owners. To keep his dignity (HA), he has been given the right to call a press conference and confirm his resignation. Everyone in the rooms knows that’s not the case, but let us be polite about it.
Rafa thanks Rick for his many years of wonderful service to the club, a glint in his eye, and wishes him and his family the very best of luck for the future. Thank you Rick, thank you very much indeed.
The 24th of May are what of course, allowed this situation to arise.
Liverpool are at home against Spurs, who are already down. “Too good to go down” the pundits said, how wrong they were, West Ham fans will remind you all of that. However, Liverpool football club is in a very different situation; 1 point behind Manchester United, with a goal difference of -5. Not for the first time this season, Liverpool are dependant on other forces. In this case it’s Hull City. After a wonderful start to the season, the last 7 months of it has been abysmal for them. They are a single point away from safety, their destiny in their own hands. However, they are entertaining a Manchester United side who need win to assure their retention of the Premiership title.
Back to Anfield, and tensions are on tender hooks. Liverpool fans are in a world of their own. The atmosphere is subdued inside the ground, and you can see it in the players as they walk out of the tunnel. It’s the same story as it has been all season at Anfield, where form has been poor, only it’s a hundred times worse now. United can’t equal our tally, and there’s fuck all we can do about it. You can see fans praying, atheists putting all their faith in God and their players. Children are being snapped at by their parents every time they mention “but what if we don’t win?” before the adults look nervously at the pitch as that thought echoes through their mind constantly.
And the whistle blows.
Spurs take an early lead, Aaron Lennon tears down the right hand side, whips the ball in, and under pressure from Jermain Defoe, Jamie Carragher heads into his own net - crumbling to his knees, head in hands. This can’t be fucking happening, the parents think, before their child looks up at them with a saddened, “I told you so” look about them.
Anfield has been rocked, and the only sound you can hear is that of Rafael Benitez screaming orders to his side, and players communicating. Just before the half time mark, Gerrard unleashes the fury. Only, its fury aimed at Albert Riera for misplacing a simple pass.
The ground is so tense you don’t even want to be there. This filters into the Liverpool players and plays into the hands of a Spurs side that are happy to sit with 10 men behind the ball and trying to hit us on the break. This is fucking Anfield 2008/2009.
The fans know they should be singing You’ll Never Walk Alone to inspire the players. Istanbul needs to happen again, but after a few attempts to get it going, the minority of fans trying soon realise people are too busy on their phones to sing, checking the United score of course. Indecently, it’s still 0-0, which fuels nobody with confidence.
As the second half begins, minutes in, Robbie Keane has an open goal infront of him after Gomes drops a simple Kuyt effort. Keane, who has been in fine form since February, seems a dead cert to score, before he scuffs his shot towards goal, and gives the giant Brazilian a chance to pounce on the feeble effort before it crosses the line. Oh Robbie, what have you done?
Liverpool probe on. Xabi Alonso is completely controlling the game, but that final ball looks impossible. Gerrard hasn’t turned up, and if things couldn’t get any worse, Torres limps off; infuriated, frustrated, and clearly in a lot of pain. Being replaced by Yossi Benayoun. A strange one Rafa.
A huge groan circles Anfield. Phones beep and ring, hands run through hair or cup faces. John O’fucking Shea, you must be kidding me!?
It’s bleak, at best. Steven Gerrard whips in a corner, which fails to beat the first man, but falls back to him. He takes his second chance and finds the head of Daniel Agger, who heads goalwards. A superb save from Gomes keeps the ball out, but it falls to the knees of Jamie Carragher. The crowd rise, desperate for the net to ripple, and it does. Jamie storms off towards the Kop faithful who greet him with open arms and open mouths. One last punch of the first to the crowd before he goes back to his defensive duties. A hero again, with minutes left.
Anfield comes alive. Now there’s hope. There’s something to scream for. Praying won’t make a blind bit of difference my fellow reds, and so Anfield roars. Not a single person in the ground is quiet. Everybody fucking screaming at their team to push them on. So much so, Rafa can’t get his message across because he simply can’t be heard by his players.
A few minute from time, a loose clearance from Woodgate lands to Steven Gerrard, 30 yards out. The Kop rises, willing that ball to come off of his right foot as sweetly as it can. He takes a look up, and pulls the trigger - and how he fucking pulls that trigger. He lashes the ball into the top corner, Gomes helpless. He throws himself at the Kop, the ground erupts into insane noise. But it’s not over.
Liverpool have a lead to defend, but that’s not the fans concern. Well, not their main one. Spurs look beaten, but that doesn’t mean Liverpool have won. Liverpool have won nothing unless things change in the “other game”. The fans wait unpatiently, desperate for their phone to ring or beep. And then it’s announced, before anyone else knows, across the tannoy.
“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls. Manchester United 1, Hull…1.
Hysteria follows. People hugging, kissing, jumping up and down madly, screaming and crying.
The final whistle blows at Anfield. Liverpool have won the game. The fans wait there, the players sit down and wait there. Before that sound is heard again.
“And that ladies and gentleman, is full time at Hull City!”
“I have called this press conference myself, not Mr Benitez, because, despite the events of the 24th of May, I have decided to hand in my resignation. I believe this is the best move for me, and more importantly for the club”.
That game indeed. Gave Mr Benitez the power, to make the changes he wanted, at his club.
