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So that was completely riveting and engaging. You'd have to tell me if that was an apt description of the international break because ETW did not watch a single live minute of action during this early and unwanted intermission. Apparently, a few Liverpool players performed with distinction. Groovy.
Roy Hodgson was busy inventing pace in attack and midfield diamonds too. Nobody said he did? Needless Wesley Snipes work you say? Oh well, the statement stands undiluted and unamended. Danny Welbeck isn't some final third hobbyist masquerading as striking competence, and his two goals possibly revealed as much. Swallows and summers I suppose. Still, it is mildly pleasing to see him score the first goals in a new life free from crimson demons.
Adam Lallana is coming, Raheem Sterling is everything, Philippe Coutinho is back where he belongs, Mario Balotelli didn't do very bad things, something familiar happened to Daniel Sturridge, an injury dared to venture near Jordan Henderson, Shaqiri actually mentioned Liverpool in the real world where people live, Steven Gerrard talked about finishing in the top four without sounding overambitious in a new reality, Joe Allen and Emre Can got broken during the international break, and the walking ball of intensity known as Victor Valdes may arrive to challenge a man wearing 22 in Liverpool colours. Much joyous tidings indeed.
Frankly, this weekend is going to be interesting and will probably be the most exciting one of the fresh season to date. Manchester United will parade a fleet of new devils, and victory is the only option. This isn't some weedy attempt to needle Liverpool's rivals, but imagine QPR coming away with something, anything. Just. Imagine. It. The sharpening of previously fawning media muddlers combined with trial by banter from rival fans across the webosphere would be delicious as a main course. Yet it is witnessing the fruitless, futile, and feeble efforts of the enemy that cannot be surpassed.
Naturally, such pleasures are to be experienced in real time, but QPR will probably lose, though such a thought was shared so that the opposite could happen by promoting the notion of an enemy victory into the reality's contrary consciousness. Reality, working in its wicked way to undermine one's flailing grasp at the illusion of competence, dastardly undercuts such a prediction to bring the opposite into existence. Or something.
Arsenal and Manchester City will be the first offerings, and if time deigns to offer unworthy flesh and bones an opportunity to observe what should be an entertaining clash, dare not miss out. Manchester City appear to be lacking bodies in the very department that was made the champions such a redoubtable foe.
The top four's resident North London side has acquired a new frontman, so commentators across the globe have a neat and easy parallel to draw in the early stages of the game before making more considered and expert opinions. Maybe they should inform viewers that mistakes are inadvisable, and goals win matches.
Arsène Wenger's loyalists have an opportunity to strike early, if that actually possesses any useful meaning, against a side that wasn't stoked at losing at home before the international break. Everton and Tottenham Hotspur travel to teams that could sneak a point or three while Southampton's home match against Newcastle has the air of tasty highlight game about it.
August's Premier League player of the month is a doubt for Chelsea, but the addition of Loïc Rémy should ensure that José Mourinho's side retains a sharp edge ahead of a probable three points. Do your worst reality. You can't? Why the fuck not? Ah, is it because Chelsea are infallible and will sweep all before them, including your good self? Good to know.
Chelsea have been impressive against such difficult opponents too, so many definitive conclusions can be made about the destination of the league title. Reality, don't you go throwing fan predictions at the start of the season to counter. Trying to trip me up there. Why is it different? Reality, be fair to anyone reading this because it's late and people are tired. Nobody's got time for those 1000/2000 word mumblings. There's important stuff to do...like stuff. Have some respect.
It's been a while, and I'm cranky as a fucking crab unsuccessfully trying to get out a barrell. Liverpool face an opponent that has enjoyed visiting Anfield in Brendan Rodgers' time at the club and scored first a bit too much for my liking. Liverpool should be feeling like that cinematic embodiment of bliss, Wade Whitehouse: "You know I get the feeling like a whipped dog some days. Some night I'm gonna bite back, I swear."
Liverpool, please stop being the whipped dog at Anfield whenever Aston Villa come to town with a midfield. Bite back. Signed, who cares about the damn signature. Just win the game.
