Adam Bogdan: The girl next door. She’s gorgeous. I mean truly, sensationally, your-heart-skips-a-beat-whenever-you-see-her, jaw-droppingly sexy. You love her. You covet her. You cannot stop thinking about her. Alas, she is always in demand, and always has a boyfriend. They’re all assholes too. Real bad bastards. You know they’re wrong for her, and you know that ‘you’ are the one, if only you got a chance. Just one chance….and then it happens. She has a huge row with the latest bastard on the block, and she comes to you for solace, comfort and a shoulder to cry on. This is it…the chance to be the man of her dreams. She runs towards you, tears streaming down her cheeks. You run to her, arms open, ready to give her everything she has been missing (emotionally, you pervert). Just as she is about to fall into your arms to be yours forever, you trip over your untied shoelace and nut her square in the mush. Claret everywhere. She’s unconscious, carted off to hospital, and her face needs reconstructive surgery. She’ll never look the same again. You’ve f*cked it, mate. You’ve ruined it forever. It’s over.
That’s Adam Bogdan, that is.
Nathaniel Clyne: Nobody is going to be immune from criticism here, and that includes Patsy. In fact, I’ll go as far to say that I think he’s In-Clyned (see what I did there? Genius) to churn out the same level of performance week-in and week-out. That would be fine if they were 9/10 shows, but they’re not. They’re 6/10 shows. At best a 7/10 show. You know what a 6/10 show is? Come Dine With Me. It’s grand an’ all, but it’s not ‘The West Wing’ or ‘The Sopranos’. They’re shows that grab you by the throat and won’t let you leave until they are finished with you. We can all switch ‘Come Dine With Me’ off whenever we want, just like we can all shrug our shoulders at the display of Patsy Clyne and say ‘Meh’. This is Liverpool Football Club. ‘Meh’ is never good enough.
Mamadou Sakho: I missed Dejan Lovren. F*CK SAKE MAMADOU, SEE WHAT YOU JUST DID? YOU MADE ME MISS LOVREN! Yes, you were just back from injury. Yes, you showed some passion and spirit, but man-dear, you were out-muscled, out-fought and out-thought by Troy F*cking Deeney. TROY DEENEY!!!!!!!!!!! The man eats a pound of butter for breakfast, and he beasted you all over the park. I will add one more caveat to this review – you were abandoned by your CB partner in the 1st half, and that didn’t help, but I’m looking squarely at your performance, and your performance alone. It was….well, it was shit.
Martin Skrtel: BAWK BAWK BAWK BAWK BAWK…you f*cking chicken-shit. Injured? Aye, suuuuuurrrreeee you were. Oooh, my hammy is gone! Ouchy! I must come off gaffer! I need to protect my fitness!
They only thing Skrtel was trying to protect was his reputation, but that was already in tatters after the mauling that he received at the hands of Ighalo and Deeney yesterday afternoon. He couldn’t physically shove them around. He couldn’t beat them in the air. He couldn’t handle their pace. He couldn’t cope. All he could do was grab hold of them and wrestle with them, and even then they were shaking him off before the ref gave a free-kick. Martin Skrtel has been at Liverpool Football Club for almost 10 years. A DECADE. Lawrenson/Hansen/Hyypia/Carragher/Yates/Smith would all be ashamed of that performance yesterday. I’m just disgusted by it. What’s the German for ‘Pack Your Bags’? Oh, it’s ‘Pack deine Taschen’.
Alberto Moreno: At least his natural enthusiasm for life in general gave Bertie a bit more spark than the rest of the shower of shit in red yesterday. He bombed up that left flank numerous times, but yet again there was very little end product. Hang on, there was NO end product. Very little is way too generous. He’s got potential, and he’s got enthusiasm, and when the inevitable Klopp Clearance Sale starts, I hold out some hope that he stays. However if you asked me would Brad Smith have done any worse yesterday, I’d have to say probably not. When your place is under threat from an untried, untested young left-back, you know you need to buck up your ideas. Just ask José Enrique about Flanno. Aye, even when Flanno was out for 18 months with injury, José still couldn’t get his place/pride/reputation back.
Lucas Leiva: What the clusterf*cking hell was going on with Lucas yesterday? For the first 40 minutes he was the invisible man, doing a poor imitation of Joe ‘Jesus Christ’ Allen on his worst day, and then he gets shoved into Centre Back? I’ll deal with that question later, but even so, this performance was back to the ‘Oh Lord, it’s Lucas’ days that we have had too many of over the past few years. On your day mate, you can be superb, and up until recently you had got your groove back. However the level and speed of regression is staggering. Have you been to see Keith Barry recently perchance? Did he hypnotise you into thinking you were a top class DM? Maybe you did, and it was all going swell until James Milner was listening to some Frank Sinatra on the team coach and snapped his fingers while ‘swinging to the groove’…and now you’re back to being shit. Shame.
Jordan Henderson: The accuracy and variation of Hendo’s long passing was impressive, about the only thing that caught the eye (in a positive sense – I was blinded by what caught my eye in a negative sense) yesterday. Time and again you pinged a raking 40 yard pass from left to right or right to left, and invariably they were bang on the money. It’s a pity that you may as well have passed them to me in my living room for all the fecking good it did, but that’s not really your fault. Your passion and commitment to the cause is going to be needed, and I hope that you have it in you to grab certain teammates by the bollox, shove them up against the wall, and roar into their faces that this isn’t f*cking good enough, with enough passion that their faces get pebble-dashed in Sunderland Spittle.
Emre Can: Well that’s that debate settled then. Many Liverpool fans (I include myself in this) thought that we had a real beast on our hands – a man that can, and will, win every physical tussle, who will brush aside opponents with disdain and ensure that Liverpool control the middle of the park for a decade to come. Yeah, that’s not true. He tried, alongside Henderson, but he was another who got bullied off the ball over and over again. The stark difference I found between the sides yesterday was the amount of times that Watford won the ‘second ball’. After the initial challenge, whenever the ball squirted loose, it was a player in Yellow and Red that was anticipating it and winning it. Jackie should be winning the initial battles, but he should certainly be snapping around for the second ball. He did neither yesterday.
Philippe Coutinho: Hang on, did Coutinho play yesterday? Really? He was on that pitch? For the full 90 minutes? Get to f*ck, you’re pulling my leg. No way. Nah, I’m not falling for it. He was? H.O.L.Y. S.H.I.T. What was he doing? Meditating?
Adam Lallana: A common theme arising from this capitulation at Vicarage Road is that Liverpool lack ‘characters’. Players who can grab a game by the scruff of the neck, who can lead their team into a tough away match and ensure they don’t do anything stupid and make them hard to beat. Players who, when the chips are down, will put it all on the line to try and turn it around. Liverpool fans know players like that when they see them. They’ve seen enough over the years. I know what I see in Lallana, and it’s none of the above. I feel his ‘character’ is best summed up by an incident in the first half, when defending a corner. He was on ‘first man’ duty at the near post. The corner was whipped in, and it was poor. It wasn’t high enough to beat the first man – in fact it wasn’t high enough to get over hip height of the first man. Yet there was Adam, performing what can only be described as an effete ‘skip’, wafting his right leg at the ball like a conductor wafts his hand at the string section in the Royal Albert Hall. The ball then careers towards the Liverpool goal, in-swinging between the posts, and was only just kept out by a flapping Bogdan.
Dearest Adam, that’s just BOLLOX. How f*cking DARE you do that in a Liverpool shirt. That may be one ‘incident’, but that sums up a player in my book. Would Gerrard have done that? Souness? Carragher? Would they f*ck. They’d have taken the leather (or plastic, or silicone or whatever the hell is on the balls these days) off the cover off that ball by wellying it 100 yards away from our goal. I could take a cheap-shot at you and say that the Nivea cream has made you soft, but that would be a cheap-shot at Nivea. You were never hard to begin with.
Roberto Firmino: Oi Bobby, I wouldn’t be doing a ‘Thumbs-Up’ near me anytime soon, because I’ll be taking those prissy thumbs and shoving them in thumb-screws. You lethargic, half-arsed, pampered, stupid-hair, tackle-ducking, non-sweating, non-trying, overpaid, Hugh Jackman loving ASSCLOWN.
Jordon Ibe: He had 15′ to do something. He didn’t. I don’t blame him as much as the others, but you might be surprised to find out that I’m in a bad mood. Therefore he gets a 4.
Divock Origi: A very faint light in a tunnel of darkness at Vicarage Road. I thought he looked lively when he came on, and he certainly caused Watford more problems on his own than the ‘Dynamic Trio’ who started ahead of him. He’s clearly our best option up front right now, and that makes me weep bitter, salty, alcoholic (well, ’tis the season) tears.
Christian Benteke: He had a 15′ window, when his side was 2-0 down, to try and rescue a point. He cost £32,000,000.00. We sent for a hero. We got a zero. About as effective as me chatting up Mila Kunis – a total blow out.
Manager: Jurgen Klopp: In my last review, I wrote the following when reviewing Herr Klopp
“We’ve reached the end of the ‘Honeymoon Period’ at Anfield, and from now on it’s going to get critical…in every sense of the word….”
I f*cking hate it when I’m right like that. Not only has the honeymoon period ended, but we’ve just had our first big fight. He’s been told to go sleep on the couch, and he’s fecking staying there until he makes me believe that he’s truly sorry for upsetting me like that. Lucas to CB for an hour? Really? Lallana & Firmino up front away to a team that you know (or should know) are about as physical as it gets? On a shit pitch? And WHAT the f*ck is your infatuation with wind? You should come over to my house on Christmas Day after I’ve had my Brussel Sprouts…you’d have a ball, you freak. The league leaders come to Anfield on Boxing Day Jurgen. It’s my favourite day of the year (Christmas Day sucks ass, you can all admit it – there’s no sport on for a start), so you’d better not ruin it for me. A win on Saturday and I’ll love you again. I promise.
Note: If you enjoy the guff on this blog, you can find me on Twitter (@NiallHawthorne). I’m also regularly contributing to ByTheMinSport.com. Finally I’m a co-host for the best weekly Premier League Podcast in the whole world – @ByTheMinEPL Podcast, which can be found on the website. If you’ve read this far, pat yourself on the back. Xxx.