Long article... maybe make a cup of tea first?
You never know what to expect in the derby game, on or off the pitch. A last minute wonder free kick? A flurry of desperate tackles, 1970s style brawl and three sendings off? Maybe a world class piece of skill to settle it and a female streaker for good measure? We’ve seen it all in the past, but I’m not sure I’ve seen such a sleepy start to a derby game as this one. Everton are a poor side these days but for almost an hour we lowered ourselves to their standards. This was definitely “two points dropped” at Anfield again, only this time we’d be hearing about it for some time.
In the lead up to the game both sets of fans were split between predicting a very tight game and a Liverpool rout. One friendly neighbourhood Everton fan had expected to ship 4 or five goals. Perversely, I expected a tight game with a single goal in it. Liverpool hasn’t scored more than one at home since Middlesborough in December and United in November before that. So, without Gerrard motoring in the middle and some bite from the likes of Carragher, I was struggling to see how we’d break Everton down.
So it was going to be a strange old day, but nothing prepared me for what happened next. I wondered past the turnstiles on the Annie Road at quarter to three, happily clutching my front row ticket. L… M… N… and then it struck me. The Reebok divider would be further along for this game and this was seat 72. Fuck. Fate had dealt me an Everton end ticket. Now, the prospect of sitting infront of a few thousand baying bluenoses, with a red scarf and completely unable to sit down when we score wasn’t worth thinking about. So, picture the comedy moment as I wander Annie Road, shouting for a red for blue swap. Bloody hilarious, not.
As luck would have it several blues were desperate to sit in their end (for once) and I was away and clear, albeit with a TV gantry view in store. So, with a bit of wheezing and a few stairs later I’m gazing out onto the Anfield turf from the highest point in L4, the back row of the Upper Centenary. Fair enough I thought, until a blue came and sat down to my left and another came and sat down to my right. Oh happy days… there I was, a rose between two thorns. I had a stronger word in mind but these two actually managed to raise my perception of blues. Still, on with the football…
The bonus of such an aerial view is seeing how both teams line up. No surprise then that Everton wanted the defence, midfield, half the attack and a couple of physios behind the ball. It didn’t look pretty. Several teams have come to Anfield copying our “4+4” defensive style but Everton were everywhere. Only Stubbs and Weir appeared to have any discipline. So was that the cue for Liverpool to stride forward and take the game to them? Well, no actually. The opening encounters were strangely subdued. Aside from Riise taking a couple of clatterings this could have been a game against any opposition fighting for Premiership survival.
Did anyone tell the players this was Everton? The local rivals with the ability to make every pub conversation from here to the next derby a nightmare for the fans? Apparently not. For the second time this week the Redmen started the game lacking that bit of speed of thought and feet. The sublime passing that had destroyed Leeds and Ipswich was conspicuous by its absence. Was it me or was Liverpool languishing in second gear? Were the players comfortable that Everton had nothing to offer and it was a matter of time before we scored? It seemed that way.
It was Anelka who almost justified the laissez faire approach. After he’d sussed that he and Owen should be making different runs, he produced two or three first half suggestions that he really does want to stay at Anfield. The first was a speculative drive from a narrow angle that clipped the side netting and drew gasps from my friends either side of me. The second was a classy flick over Stubbs to put himself in on goal… only to chose a lob rather than a low strike to beat Simonsen. The debutant ‘keeper came out quickly and stayed high to make the save. The third was neat. Anelka left Weir on the half way line with his bus pass and glided goal wards only to delay the final ball and find Stubbs instead of Owen. Stubbs must have teleported himself there; it was the only feasible explanation.
The rest of the half was dull enough to make ditchwater jealous. The blues either side of me seemed quite used to it, but still couldn’t explain why they’d felt compelled to pay good money and turn up. Maybe a pint at half time would explain things. Yes, you heard right. Somewhere in the sparkly new Upper Centenary a red and a blue shared a half time pint and talked about football… without fighting, talking bollocks or being unduly bitter. There’s hope for them yet you know.
Once this blue had got used to the lavish hospitality of our newest stand and the taste of Carlsberg rather than Heineken he shared some thoughts. Of course he was bitter but he was also a football fan. I guess you’d have to be to watch that dross every week. So, was the Kings Dock a good idea? Heck, no. Only Kylie would manage to fill it and the money needs to be spent on the players, not a new stadium. Who’d have thought a blue would echo Rick Parry’s words so convincingly? Where did it all go wrong for Everton? There was no surprise here, apparently it was missing the European boat and losing quality players when English teams were banned. No blame for Liverpool there though. Why was one of the biggest cheers so far for the Arsenal half time score? It seems they simply do not want us to win anything, regardless of who else wins. No surprises so far then, until the main reason for his bitterness surfaced. It was because Liverpool fans no longer considered Everton good enough to be the biggest game of the season. The fact that the United game appeared to be more of an event than the derby had provided a very real sense of rejection. I suspect Liverpool fans are split on this one, but before I started an out-of-towner debate it was the second half… and Liverpool were attacking the Kop.
The blue had also slated Walter Smith at half time for lacking the balls to make key substitutions. Ironic then that both Radzinski and Graveson were on at half time. Fate was playing tricks once again and within five minutes they’d scored with their first move that could be called an “attack”. Pistone and Naysmith had combined in a Murphy free zone down the left. Abel was left two on one and the resulting pull back found Radzinski unmarked near the penalty spot. He managed to scuff a shot towards the right hand upright and the world went into slow motion. Not least Kirkland, who seemed to take an age to get across to make a despairing dive. 0-1 and blues dotted all the way round the ground made themselves known. The two either side of me managed to contain themselves sufficiently to avoid blows but it took a bit of Anglo Saxon from those infront to get them to sit down.
Now we had a derby game. Thommo replied instantly, sending Heskey on wide on the left, taking Wright off and dropping Riise back to left back. Instantly, Anfield became recognisable once again and the Redmen looked like Liverpool FC again. But why had it taken an hour and an Everton goal to put the spark into our game?
The chances followed as Liverpool stepped up a gear, Owen hit high into a standing Kop from Heskey’s cross and then drove one into a sea of players that could have gone anywhere. His third chance was a header from another Heskey centre that went narrowly wide. This was now a siege and only time was going to deny us three points.
A jaded McAllister came off for Smicer and now we had the width we needed to sustain the charge. But Murphy now joined Hamman in the middle and some of the sting was taken out of the passing. Murphy seemed to be short on confidence. One dribble and several passes resulting in the same thing – conceded possession. Maybe that miss on Wednesday had taken its toll on him or maybe the home fans just aren’t his friends anymore. Either way, I doubt his home opta stats are too impressive at the moment.
Apparently Thommo had asked Heskey to play wide AND move inside at will. To me, this has to be the key to these situations. It’s not just down to width, there has to be an element of total football in there too. We’ve been very good at maintaining our shape over the past two seasons, maybe too good. Opposition defences get used to marking certain players and expecting passing sequences, some even enjoy it. In short it’s too easy for them and Fortress Anfield becomes more of a bouncy castle for defenders.
The answer has to be an interchange of players. Both Xavier and Riise are admirable on the overlap, but it’s more than that. When one player switches roles he causes problems. So when Heskey went rampaging on the right he caused mayhem. Had we lost our shape? No, I don’t think so. Henchoz covered left back, Riise was well forward and Murphy covered left midfield. Behind them, Hamman was… well just being Hamman. Meanwhile, the Everton defence was facing a new problem. Add a slick couple of passes and they were opened up. Heskey through to Anelka and this time his shot is low and almost Thierry-esque. 1-1 and my turn to make some noise.
The onslaught continued but it was crowded in there and time was ticking away. Hamman hit a shot straight at Simonsen and Murphy’s header was tipped over the bar spectacularly. Shame because Spud needed that goal baldy, I mean badly. At the other end, Kirkland pulled off a fine Dudek impression, saving Everton’s second credible effort knee high to his left and ensuring the day wasn’t a complete nightmare.
So the game ended in disappointment. Another ten minutes would have seen a second goal and another Merseyside triumph, but it wasn’t to be. My memories of this derby will be more about the fans than the game. At one end, the Kop who have moved on from singing about opposition managers (Harry Catterick) and filled the air with Scouser Tommy, Liii-ver-pool and I’m sure I caught a burst of “The reds are coming up the hill”.
Meanwhile, the blue end indulged in “Who had a heart attack, Hou-Houllier”, a rip off “Eeee-ver-ton” and cheering the Arsenal scoreline. It seems it’s not just the team that’s twenty years behind us. But don’t tar them all with the same brush… my thanks go to the blue who bought me that pint, made the day a little different and showed me that the old derby spirit lives on in many of us. Mind you, I’d still close my curtains if they were playing in my yard.
