If you’ve been a reader of The Liverpool Offside this season, you’ll know that this post is supposed to make sense of the Liverpool match that we all just watched. Maybe point out the tactics that saw Liverpool win, lose, or draw. Maybe we highlight the player that performed the best or worst. You know, smart stuff on the internet.
We all watched that match. How am I supposed to come here and attempt to make sense of what we just witnessed? It was chaos. It was joy. It was heartbreak. It was what it means to be alive all at once.
Instead of “Digging Deeper” into the match, I would like to dig deeper into the feelings we felt when we saw Mo Salah being stretchered off. I’ve been through some pretty hard things in my life. I’ve had a parent die at a young age. I’ve dealt with heartbreak and pain, just like you have I assume. You saw the same images on your TV as I did. Mo, there, on the ground, not moving in the 70th minute. You probably felt the abyss of darkness creep over you like a fog when they stretched him off the field. It was 2-2, Liverpool looked out of ideas and out of desire. Maybe, like me, you fired off a tweet or two about how it was all over and how the pain was unbearable.
That’s the tricky thing, though. It’s not all over. These Liverpool players are not like us. While they all have similar attributes as us humans, they are nothing like us. They are gods among men. They are immortals walking among mortal beings. No matter what happens, we will remember them for what they are doing for us. When we are unable to bear the crushing weight of this title race, they calmly rearrange a set piece routine in the thick of the moment. When the chips were down and their best player was stretched off the field, they discussed amongst themselves how to dissect a stubborn Rafa Benitez side. They’re nothing like us, and that’s the absolute best thing about these Reds.
Origi puts the ball at the back of the net and I prayed for the first time in ages. Not to a god of any sort of religion or whatever, but I prayed to these gods. This Liverpool team time and time again comes through when you least expect it. They’re a prayer in the anguishing night. They’re a refreshing glass of ice water on a hot day. They’re the smell before rain. They’re the blood in my veins. They’ll absolutely do for me.
I don’t have anything intelligent to say. This season has taken me to the depths of my emotions for better or worse. I am a man laid bare by a football team several thousand miles away from where I sit typing this right now. I’m not okay, but that’s okay. These Reds aren’t like me and that’s the absolute best. I can’t walk, but they will carry me. You’ll Never Walk Alone, indeed.
Up the Reds.