Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned...
On second thought, that might be a tad over-dramatic. After all, we've still got a year to go before hellfire and beasts slouching t'wards Bethlehem and just general end of the world goodness. Or something. For the time being, we'll have to make do with the Hodgpocalypse that's come and gone and left a scrap of burning, twisted rubble in its wake.
Or maybe it's just left us feeling mopey and apathetic and emotacular like it's November of 2010 all over again and he's still managing the club. I'm pretty sure it's one or the other...
* In any case, my return engagement with Ethan Dean-Ricahrds may have come out too close to the match to share the link ahead of time, but in a strange way it's just as suitable amongst that aforementioned burning, twisted rubble that is the Hodgpocalypse's aftermath. Especially the part where I get asked to describe my perfect evening with the physical embodiment of West Bromwich Albion Football Club, which after a brief detour through Siberia and globalisation manages to end rather badly in spite of the aforementioned "perfection" dealie. What can I say, I'm filled with self loathing. And now you get to read about it.
Which is probably a win for absolutely nobody and will just make Saturday's result feel that much worse in retrospect. So. Enjoy!
* Leading up to the match against West Brom, there was some cautious optimism that it might signal the beginning of the end for Liverpool's injury problems. Well, we all know how that worked out, with both the club's last healthy fullback and the top center back ending up on the trainer's table well before the game had ended. What wasn't known at the time was that Steven Gerrard, who many thought would at least be fit enough to make the bench on Saturday, had injured himself in training the day before:
Steven was training yesterday and innocuously tried to turn with the ball and felt a sharp pain. Same injury but not the same thing. We'll get him assessed and by the end of the week we'll know better about everybody.
To further depress matters, there are rumours that season ending surgery could be in the cards as a result of what seems the 374th groin (re)injury suffered by Gerrard over the past few years.
* It's 10PM, and Kate's face is breaking out...
While some may be kept busy learning about shake-weights on Fox Soccer, in a world where half the time the game you want to watch isn't available live and local, a fair few will have at some point wanted to stab themselves in the temple after hearing about Kate's face breaking out for the 374th time in a row as they attempt to find a working stream. Liverpool fan Mike Georger decided to do something a little more productive instead, writing a brief ode to the not-especially-legal phenomenon that has made following football possible for so many people around the globe in a way that wasn't imaginable only a few short years ago:
That being said there are also some things that irritate me about streaming. If there’s one thing worse than not being able to watch a game, it’s having to deal with pirates who are unreliable. I missed Pato’s first goal today because whoever was running the stream changed the channel to rugby for some reason. If you watch streams, you know the feeling of dread when the channel guide pops up on the screen. Nothing good comes from that when the channel is already on the right game.
Word. I suppose when you consider the alternative--that is, access to only some small portion of the matches you might otherwise want to watch--having to hear about Kate's face breaking out one more time doesn't seem quite so bad.
In the meantime, when you finish laughing at Fulham's newly unveiled and gloriously creepy Michael Jackson statue (HT: Mike) and get back to remembering that Roy Hodgson got his strangely dull, sleep-inducing revenge on a Saturday that also saw Arsenal doing their best to hand the league to United...