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When Dwight Gayle scored his second goal on Monday night to draw Crystal Palace 3-3, I started laughing. Not a resigned, what a world chuckle, not a smirk or a scoff. This was a belly laugh, a coffee coming out my nose type guffaw, and I have no idea why. It wasn't quite the pinnacle of soul-crushing goals, but it was awfully close, and I don't think my emotions and my face had any idea what the other was doing.
It's probably important to note that I don't think I was necessarily laughing at Liverpool in the way many rushed to do after the final whistle blew. Mine was a brain-broken, run out of ways to make sense of the world around me chortle that one produces when they've just witnessed a ten-minute collapse that very likely ruled Liverpool out of the title race.
I won't ever watch the highlights of this match.
In hindsight I think the emotional ups and downs of the season finally caught up with me in that one moment, and at a time when I should have been crying/vomiting/dissociating, I could only laugh. Liverpool shouldn't have conceded three goals after taking a three-goal lead at Crystal Palace, but they also probably shouldn't be top of the Premier League table with only one match left in the season. There's not enough quality, not enough depth, not enough money spent, and not enough recent success for Liverpool to even be in a spot to blow their chance at winning the title on May 5..
In a twisted way I think I started laughing because Dwight Gayle's equalizer was fun. Not like, actual fun, because it was devastating. But fun in the sense that it made absolutely no sense, and there's little about Liverpool right now that makes sense to anyone. One match left, and Liverpool still have a chance at winning the title. They'll finish no worse than third--very likely second--in a season many (self included) had them tipped for an outside shot at fourth or fifth.
So maybe it's just Liverpool's turn. The 17 or 18 or 19 teams they'll finish above this season have already felt their disappointments and had their turn as laughingstock. Even those with better odds of finishing in the top four--or so we hear--have felt it as early as September. And then again in October, November, December, January, February, March, April, and May.
Everything's the worst, but it could probably be worse.
