Hell yeah I am. For the first time since the last couple of matches of the 13/14 season I've been thoroughly enjoying our football.
Well... that's not quite correct though. I enjoyed last season obviously, Klopp's arrival had me grinning from ear to ear and the things he managed to do with the squad he inherited in such a short time were a sign of things to come. I almost lost my voice (heh) after that Lovren goal, you know. For a moment there it was like everything was right with the world.
But we lost. Twice. No getting around it, no deflecting - we lost and those defeats stung like hell. And the fact that we had a decimated squad with "some" deadwood (to the point that we pretty much let go of the Premier to focus on the Europa), while making it admirable that we actually managed to get to those finals under those conditions, also meant I spent a lot of time worrying over stuff - if Sturridge was going to get injured again or not, if Hendo was ever going to reach his personal best level again, if we were going to collapse under the weight of a strenuous schedule and a pre-season headed by a different manager with different methods and different objectives. I enjoyed it, in the end, and it could've been far worse - but it wasn't complete enjoyment.
And 13/14... that was a rollercoaster. It really was. Up until that Hull match, I thought we were frustratingly inconsistent - and that match epitomised everything that frustrated me about that LFC squad. Hell, a lot of people were declaring Sterling's career at the club was completely over after that match - and, honestly, I thought so too. He was abject. It was truly one of the worst matches I had seen since Brendan took the reigns of the club. And then... and then...
I seriously can't wrap my head around what happened next. I don't know if it was Suarez's genius finally exploding at the right time, if Gerrard finally realized that year might've been his last chance to fight for the title at LFC, if Brendan managed to really get into their heads and properly motivate the players or all of the above or none of the above, but it was magical, and thunderous and mental as fuck. Sometimes it defies words. Thrashing Norwich (with the obligatory Suarez hattrick), the absolute demolition of Spurs (with even Flanni Alves scoring!), the Merseyside Derby with Sturridge scoring twice ("sometimes you have to just chill out, look at the Everton fans and let them realise what time it is", bless you Danny), dismantling Arsenal beyond repair during the first 20 fucking minutes of the match (Skrtel scoring twice!!!), Stevie's celebration after scoring the penalty at Fulham ("this is it", I thought then. "it's on!"), embarrassing the mancs at their horrible place (Stevie kissing the camera, just like that other time...), the mental "fuck you, we'll score more than you" match against Cardiff, that Sturridge goal against Stoke City, defeating City thanks to a Vincent Kompany fuck up and Coutinho seizing the opportunity... it's sublime stuff. I had never seen such a dominant Liverpool team [I was born in '88 and english football started to get broadcast around these parts by the late 90s/early 00s], it was a relentless red machine that only desired complete domination. Even at a great cost.
But how it whirred and clanged and banged! The way other teams fell before us was almost absolute, barely a whimper of protest. And if they dared to oppose us, if they mustered the courage to try and snatch the game away from us, the red machine became even more merciless, more crushing. A thing of exhilarating beauty, finesse and power. A sight to behold. Stopping at nothing, desiring domination...
Even at a great cost, indeed. Hendo getting red carded late during that ManCity match was also a sign of things to come, I think. Whether you consider it the deciding factor or not, that's on you, but he was pretty much vital in our midfield engine during that season and it was absolutely unfortunate that he managed to miss the Chelsea game. And then... and then...
That slip. That fucking slip. I was already a bundle of nerves before the game, and when that happened I did my finest Ralph Wiggum impression ("you can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half!" as Bart would say) and felt this horrible void inside of me growing. I just couldn't believe it. The match in which our hopes resided was being decided (and then defined) by the incredible, untimely mistake of the man that had been, pretty much, the face of the club during the last decade. It was something that boggled the mind back then, and it still does. Something beyond comprehension, the punchline of a cosmic joke that meant that the footballing deities hated us for whatever unknowable reason. That match was heartbreak, pure and simple, and it soured me on the whole thing. I wasn't enjoying the season by that point, to be honest - pure joy replaced by the growing sensation of inescapable pressure, exhilaration turned into nervousness, hands in the air replaced by fingers in mouth, teeth gnawing at nails, trembling and trembling and trembling. No joy. And when that happened, it felt like the last fucking straw. And then... and then...
Crystal fucking Palace and the team fucking up a 3-nil lead. I think the previous Chelsea match managed to unsettle everyone in the squad and they couldn't deal with the pressure. Hell, I couldn't deal with the pressure and I was just a fucking supporter watching from the other side of a screen on the other half of the world - I wasn't there, week in week out, playing matches and dealing with the expectations of thousands behind my back. So that happened, and then it was gone. The season started with hope, and it turned to something much more beautiful and transcendental than that during the middle... and it ended with heartbreak. I couldn't even enjoy the victory against Newcastle and the lap of honour - I couldn't savour the triumph when the ultimate grasp had suddenly (and unfairly) slipped from our grasp.
So I was fucking miserable for a while, and though my national team managed to qualify for the second time in a row for a World Cup (something beautiful, something unthinkable for our generation here in Chile) the football deities decided to make my happiness shortlived when they declared that the Chile NT was going out (on fucking PENALTIES) to the worst brazilian team of all time, and Suarez doing the stupid, unjustifiable shit he tends to do also meant that FSG had a way to get rid of a talented but problem footballer and Barcelona snatched him up. Miserable 2014. Fucking miserable.
And we replaced Suarez with a man almost as crazy but not as nearly as talented as him. And also good lad Rickie Lambert (who I could never hate, even if he wasn't that good for us). I'd rather not speak about that season, because if I was already miserable, I plunged into new, uncharted depths in this one. Horrible football and a horrible atmosphere online. Whatever good will Brendan had by the start of the season, it was already gone by the mid point. The man had a tendency to spout some ridiculous stuff every once in a while, and a lot of times I wished he could've remained silent instead of running his mouth with PR soundbytes - but the amount of vitriol, pure hate BR received was unjustified IMHO. Making digs at his personal life (none of our fucking business) was uncalled for. In any case, a lot of people wanted him absolutely gone, 13/14 be damned. And the fanbase fractured again - those who wanted him out ASAP, those who wanted him to stay and fight. Unpleasant, miserable times. Fucking miserable. And then... and then...
Crystal Palace being out bogey team once again (twice in the same season!) and finally, the Crown Jewel of this season of shite: Stoke fucking City scoring 6 goals against us. Six fucking goals. Brendan had slowly lost my trust and my faith during the course of the season -he seemed to have lost the plot and even if we had a run of good results for a while, the team never really convinced and it all seemed a bit fragile to me, almost like a mirage- but by the last stretch of matches I was just fed up with him. The Stoke result being the last straw, his own personal nadir, the biggest stain on his LFC tenure. Too much. I wanted him gone. I never hated him (and I still don't), but I wanted him gone - because I lost my trust in him. That was it. I could no longer trust that he was going to turn things around, even with new-and-different players. And, honestly, I thought he should've been "mutually consented" after that Stoke match. I couldn't really see a way back for him after that one.
So imagine my surprise when all reports indicate that he was still going to be Liverpool FC's manager at the start of 15/16. The transfer window was solid but unspectacular to me (except for -in one hand- Firmino, who I thought was great; and Benteke who, on the other hand, I thought was a square peg in a round hole. Oh, and flogging Balotelli out to Milan, which was great) but, once again, no trust in the manager. And the fanbase was still horribly split. And it never quite gelled - wins against Stoke, Bournemouth and Villa; defeats against West Ham and the mancs; drawing with Arsenal, Norwich and -the final nail in the coffin- Everton. It was all so... pedestrian, in a way. Inconsistent once again. A bit lost. Not fulfilling potential. New signings still finding their footing.
The reports of Brendan leaving after the Merseyside Draw shocked me. I was of two minds, to be honest: I thought it was too late, so to speak, 'cause he should've left after the previous season, but it was also too early in the season for him. If FSG had backed him during the transfer window, they kinda gave him no real room to work with those signings. And if they thought he wasn't going to get the best out of them, then they should've (again) sacked him earlier and drop the charade. In any case, I was kinda nervous because I thought we were going to get another "young but unproven manager" to oversee a rebuilding process. Another rebuilding, after all those previous rebuildings... a sadly common occurrence in LFC. I thought we were going to get a guy like Sean Dyche or Eddie Howe - and I mean no disrespect to either of them, 'cause they have done great jobs in their respective clubs, but I don't think any of them are ready to manage a club like Liverpool. The expectations, the pressure, the potential fallout... it's too much. And then... and then...
Rumours led to columns led to tweets and facebook posts led to more rumours and gossip and ITK whispers that lead to a bunch of people tracking an aircraft from Germany to Merseyside. And a loveable swabian with a huge smile and a fiery temper that managed to have pretty much all of us eating out of the palm of his hand, while heartily laughing and declaring himself to be "the Normal One". It's a change of pace, from the whispers of unrest behind closed curtains and ego clashes and a fanbase split. A breath of fresh air, as the cliché goes.
So, yes, to reinforce what I said at the start - I am absolutely enjoying our football now. Even when we seem to stumble and fall, it doesn't look like we're really losing our way - because I trust in Jürgen Klopp. And, honestly, it looks everyone else -from the players to the board room to the employees to the fans- trusts him too. Long may he reign.
[Also, heartfelt apologies for this huge wall of text!]