Anfield on the Hudson

Autumn of ‘01. A long time ago, when we were in recession, at war, and a wiz kid striker had just scored a hat trick for Ingerland abroad. Yes the world was a very different place then and it was also the last time we beat the Mancs at Anfield in the league, in a match seen at LFCNY’s old home the Kinsale Tavern by Elvis Costello among other New Yorkers, honorary and otherwise. Since then there have been more Elvis Presley sightings than joy against this lot but who knew the winning formula was oh so simple. Go a goal down inside 180 seconds, keep Torres on the bench all day, don’t introduce Gerrard until 70 odd minutes, and Bob Paisley’s your uncle. By Big Apple standards, the distance between 11th Street Bar and Nevada Smiths is really just a stone’s throw away (believe me, it’s been tested this way I’m sure) but methinks the mood was likely light years apart on Saturday. Hahaha. This felt good. Talk was we were interested in O’Shea last season - can see why. Nice one son. Masch was a monster and Babel’s now scored against United, Chelski, and Arsenal. Have a feeling this is the beginning of a big season from him.

After the Barrygate buildup, figures this would be a dud. Alonso scoring the winner would’ve been nice, and he deserved the chance from the spot in Stevie’s absence after Keane was clattered, but this was pretty dire stuff. Banner ads crawling across the TV screen offering the opportunity to buy Everton “soccer” jerseys did little to improve the mood. Ah, the joys of watching soccer Stateside. Still, another clean sheet for Pepe’s collection, and atop the league after the guns of August have fallen silent.

Am back after vanishing without trace, a la Rip Van Winkle (or Robin Van Persie). Been told that since my last entry, Man Yoo are now poor relations in their own city, Lehman Brothers have gone bankrupt, and a moose shootin mother of five from Alaska is up for Vice President. Yeah, right. They say distance lends enchantment but three weeks on the best that can be said about our sub-Standard show against Liege is that we’re through to the group $tage$, something an about-to-embark-on-the-UEFA Cup AC Milan would kill for. Dirk really is the anti-Ronaldo. While the Portuguese poser scores thousands, all either set pieces and/or against duff teams, Kuyt never scores. Except against Chelski (twice), Arsenal (twice), AC Milan, Inter Milan. Brilliant cross by Babel - imagine what we could do with a specialist left winger.

Okay, a bit late off the mark but today’s New York Times has an article about how George Orwell is blogging from beyond the grave on a 70 year time delay so maybe not so bad. Opener against Sunderland presented the conundrum of whether to sing “Keano, Keano”. Too much to ask, against a team with managed by Roy of all people. Weary performance on Wearside but three points and more evidence we possess the world’s best striker. Job done. I see Boro are sponsored by Garmin, a leader in GPS navigation. Xabi has been finding the target with his old laser guided efficiency of late, but this is not one of his better days. Still had a roundabout hand in both goals, mind - chuffed to bits our Barry fixation is apparently over. We need another central midfielder like a hole in the head - today’s game offered (redundant) proof that what we are really crying out for is quality width. Injury time screamer in front of the Kop, to win a game we were losing a few minutes earlier, when he’s not fully fit - the Stevie G legend just grows and grows. Two games, two rubbish performances, top of the league. Maybe, just maybe, this is the year we are lucky rather than good.