For me Sunday at Southampton was quite some statement. If the club’s decision come the end of January to bank on the continued fitness of Daniel Sturridge and the recalling of Jordan Ibe seemed to many to reek of a small time gambling style approach to the future, then events on the pitch since and particularly Sunday’s massive achievement have transpired to be quite the opposite. As it is whatever the rights or wrongs of what we did or didn’t do during the transfer window, Sunday was huge. And, so far, those two transfer window gambles seem to be working a treat. Daniel looks pretty damn fit and sharp to me and young Jordan after a mere handful of games has somehow become by some distance our most accomplished technical footballer - not to mention the most exciting player in the entire history of footy.
But back to Sunday.
Even having regard to the recent fine run of form and results, the outcome of Sunday’s game given the context in which it was fought represented an immense step forward for LFC. In this connection, in order to fully grasp the significance of it not just in terms of this season but in the context of the Brendan Rodgers management era so far, I think the game and its outcome need to be first viewed from a Southampton perspective as distinct from a Liverpool one.
For let’s make no mistake here, Southampton wanted this one very badly. Very badly indeed. More so than with possibly any game they’ve staged down there for a very long time. For them the build up to this particular fixture will have begun quite some time ago as they eyed up the forthcoming fixtures. A home fixture against Liverpool can do that for any side. But for a side such as they are – laden with what clearly seem entirely warranted aspirations to rub shoulders with the top teams and a desperation to widen the points distance between themselves and us for a top four slot - this game, with its inherent fortnight’s ‘rest’ period leading up to it and its accompanying 6 pointer potential will have assumed monumental significance.
To both the team and the manager for their entire blank two week period preceding it, the game will have become a virtual ‘be all and end all’.
And the fact is the magnitude of their performance on the day bore testimony to that desperation to win and to the latent ability that oozes throughout the Southampton ranks. For let’s be honest here, as resilient and spirited as we were in the face of their onslaught, we needed every last morsel of the quite desperate and concerted effort we were able to mount to contain their determination, their focus, their class and their quite relentless advances.
Southampton in such context, fully rested, refreshed and with full quota verve and energy against an equally motivated and determined yet comparatively energy sapped Liverpool courtesy of two taxing cup ties, played some terrific individual and collective stuff and had the upper edge for virtually the entire game. For our part, we essentially just dug in as best we could. Yet, as weighted in their favour as the preparation/energy odds may have been, in truth had the result gone for Southampton nobody could have begrudged them the win their play very possibly merited.
So the fact that a mixture of our team’s amazing resilience, one absolutely sensational finish and, for once, benevolent officiating saw them fail in what to them represented almost a crusade, stands as a quite colossal accomplishment by the Reds. Beating the current Southampton, hyper-charged to fuck on their own midden, is right now as big a deal as they come, so much so that I doubt any other Premiership team in a corresponding situation would have survived such a torrid 90 minutes against them.
It follows then that their despondency at the final whistle must have been immense. They’d put everything into it, been the better side, yet still come up short. Perhaps they may have fared better if the overwhelming emphasis of their efforts had been shifted slightly from their patently clear obsession with stopping Liverpool playing to honing their own attacking play a tad more. Perhaps not. Whatever the case, as they reflect this week upon that failure to secure such a desperately craved win and thereby spurning the very real opportunity of effectively despatching Liverpool from the top four race and at the same time securing a very realistic platform for cracking the top four themselves, the failure to accomplish either juxtaposed target will surely eat at them and their manager. Badly.
So do I feel any empathy for them?
Not on your Nellie. They came [well okay they were at home but whatever], they saw, they were conquered. And, as it turned out, quite convincingly, too, by the final whistle. By a Liverpool team that currently seems unable to get much, if anything, wrong. Whether playing with mouthwatering fluidity or true grit or a concoction of both, things simply seem to be flopping for us right now. The transformation in a few months is mightily impressive. Brendan and his boys deserve enormous credit. Maybe it’s tempting fate but with the confidence and stability coursing through red veins right now allied to some truly bewitching talent and a fair dollop of lady luck, it’s very hard not to contemplate success on all fronts. Top four, Europa and FA Cup? Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever transpires we’re in there with a decent shout in all three.
And isn’t it just fucking great?
