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Liverpool vs Manchester United: Benny Hill and the Big Red Boa Constrictor

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By Simon Meakin

Simon Meakin takes a look at this Sunday’s titanic clash with Manchester United, in a match preview like no other.

And we danced all night to the best start ever!  Woo!  Yeah!  Big shout out to young person’s beat combo, One Direction for perfectly encapsulating what is now officially, The. Best. Start. Ever.  And, not only in the English top flight but in any of Europe’s big leagues. 

I’m now wondering how may more games we need to win to break the record in Europe’s small leagues (I believe that’s their official title).  Although I’d imagine someone like Dynamo Berlin in their 1970s Stasi-backed pomp probably managed to rack up 300 wins on the bounce without breaking a sweat (I can’t imagine who would have even dared try to take a point off them knowing that that the team, coaching staff and entire support would probably have been dispatched to the nearest gulag quick-sharp, while the result was “unwritten” in the paper next day.

Our football now seems to have entered a new dimension. The games against Sheffield United and Spurs felt unlike our previous matches this season.  Completely dominant in possession against sides that barely attempted to cross the halfway line.  It’s starting to become reminiscent of peak Pep-era Barcelona (see the 2011 Champions League Final against Man U as evidence.  I’ve never seen them so impotent.  And that’s when they were still quite good).  But (whispering it quietly) it does make for slightly sterile football matches.  I think we actually managed to send ourselves to sleep for the last twenty minutes at White Hart Lane (or New White Hart Lane, or Not White Hart Lane or Highbury or whatever they call it these days) given how easy things had been until then.  All part of Jose’s latest master-plan no doubt, and it almost worked. 

And to make it clear I’m not complaining here – I’d be delighted to send millions of Sky Sports subscribers to sleep if we romp to the title.  It’s up to the other team to try and stop us.  We are basically crushing the life out of teams.  So after my range of Big Red Combine Harvester merchandise mysteriously seems to fail to impress the LFC marketing department I’m planning to sneak back on to Dragon’s Den to unveil my latest new club nickname. The Big Red Boa Constrictor!  Although that does sound a bit Benny Hill-ish (“Hello there young lady! Would you like to come home and see my Big Red Boa Constrictor?”)  Although I might suggest to Jürgen that he could maybe mix it up in training by hiring a saxophone player, having Jordan Henderson dress up in a nurses uniform and getting the entire squad to run in and out of the bushes in Stanley Park really fast, all in a line, while Jordan’s clothes mysteriously fall off and everyone tries to slap Fabinho on the head.  Always worth trying something different to gain that little extra edge surely?

Anyway, back to by far the greatest team the Metropolitan Borough of Trafford (it’s not far from Manchester I believe) has ever seen. The auld enemy (not sure why I’ve come over all Scottish here.  It’s not the Old Firm Derby).  But ever since I was a small child these have been our biggest rivals.  These have been the ones I’ve been most desperate to beat.  More so than Everton or whoever we were fighting it out with for the title.  Even when they weren’t that good (although sadly I’m too young to remember when they were really bad and Denis Law managed to relegate them to a backdrop of their fans fighting, while wearing ludicrous trousers).

But even in those days we always seemed to struggle to beat United as often as we should have (sorry I should be clearer here.  That’s Manchester United.  There is only really one United and that’s the late lamented Hereford United RIP, God Rest Its Soul).  And that didn’t exactly improve when Ferguson turned up and they actually started winning everything. Okay, sometimes we might have been occasionally well beaten but I’ve lost count of the number of times we seemed to lose to scrappy late goals or their keeper having a blinder.  John O’Shea only scored about six goals in his entire career but I reckon about 14 of those were winners against us.

But that only makes the good times all the sweeter. Top of the list has to be the 4-1 demolition at Old Trafford when I thought Torres was without question destined to become our greatest ever player (rest easy King Kenny. Your crown is safe – for now).  Other highlights include a pile-driver from a young Stevie G, THAT goal from Riise and a hat trick from the mighty Dirk Kuyt from a combined distance that was probably less than the length of my big red boa constrictor (I’ll leave you to debate how long that might be).

Favourite memories from matches I was actually at include winning 2-1 at Old Trafford circa 1990. The first victory there for many years and the last for quite a few more, and achieved despite John Barnes deciding to go for own goal of the year by sending a lovely lob over the keeper from 25 yards.  And also last year’s 3-1 win at Anfield when Santa came to deliver an early Christmas present, including an extended Christmas break to a Mr J.Mourinho care of the Lowry Hotel, Salford. 

Less pleasant memories include seeing Jamie Carragher trying to outdo Digger by scoring two own goals.  And the aftermath of our 2-1 win at Old Trafford circa 1990, when we thought we were being clever slipping out of the police cordon leading us back to the Liverpool coaches to get back to my student digs, only to find that thousands of angry seething Mancs had all spotted our sneaky move and decided they were going to lynch us (in some cases trying to climb out of the back window of the top deck of a bus in their desperation to get at us). Rapidly coming to the conclusion this wasn’t the best thought out plan ever, we turned tail and just about made it back to the cordon unscathed (in my mind I cleared the central reservation Colin Jackson style although I suspect the reality was a little less graceful). 

I’ve always wondered what became of the one nutter who followed us, thinking we were up for a ruck, and went charging into the angry mob on his own, while wearing a Liverpool shirt. He actually thought we would be right behind him. It really can’t have ended well for him.

As for Sunday’s match I really, really want to win this one. Not only to take another step closer to the title, and not only because of the rivalry but also because these buggers have had the temerity to be the only team to have stopped us winning.  I’m not sure we’ve ever managed to beat every other team in the league in a single season (we failed to beat City last year, I probably don’t need to remind anyone about not beating Chelsea in the ill-fated Brendan Rodgers title bid season and even our record breaking 1979 team couldn’t beat those lot from Goodison). Win on Sunday and we’ll only have West Ham to go.

So it’s going to be tight.  But as ever I’m going to predict a Liverpool win. 2-0 to the Big Red Boa Constrictor.  Salah to finally break his duck against Man U and Shaqiri to reprise his act from the bench.  Although unlike Jose, Ole will remain at the wheel having perfected the art of winning just enough games to remain in his job without ever threatening to turn Manchester United into a force again.

Oh, and memo to Jurgen. As a Hereford fan, do not let the kids lose to the Slop in the FA Cup. Repeat do not let the kids lose to the Slop in the FA Cup. Don’t expect them to be as big a pushover as that shower from the last round. Curtis get your shooting boots on again!

Van Dijk, shotguns and flat caps: Can the ‘Big Red Combine Harvester’ keep chugging along?

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By Simon Meakin

Liverpool face Brendan Rodgers’ Leicester City this weekend. Can Klopp’s Reds continue their impressive run? Simon Meakin takes us on a meandering run through Saturday’s big match, with the usual detours along the way.

So, the Red Machine keeps chug chug chug chug chugging along (borrowing the lyrics from the well known ditty “Big Red Combine Harvester,” as sung by my son at nursery school).  It was one of my favourites of his nursery songs along with one about being a pirate in the Irish Sea (whether this was of the Redbeard Rum type or Somali Pirates trying to hijack the Isle of Man ferry was never specified). 

But I’m now thinking that “Big Red Combine Harvester” is a football club nickname in waiting, and there is no reason why Liverpool shouldn’t claim it (better than trying to copyright the name of the entire City anyway).  As far as I’m aware no-one has ever clarified what type of Red Machine we are meant to be – internal combustion engine? Japanese Bullet Train? Toaster? So, I’m going to be the first. 

Is it the perfect metaphor for Henderson and Wijnaldum threshing in midfield? Do combine harvesters thresh?  What is threshing? Or, is it Mane, Salah and Firmino combining up front with Van Djik sporting a flat cap and threatening people with his shotgun, telling them to “get orf my land?” 

Now that I’ve sorted our new marketing strategy (in your face Ed Woodward and your noodle partners) back to the football.  We’ve had two really tough, battling away wins since our last home game and probably ridden our luck a bit at times so hopefully a return to Anfield will mean a return to the sort of champagne football that Firmino delivered from the bench against Newcastle. 

But it’s not going to be easy against Leicester.  They are looking well placed for a shot at a top four finish partly due to the current inadequacies of most of the traditional “Big Six”.  And, Leicester have form in this area, taking advantage of the inadequacies of all the Big Six to famously win the league only four seasons ago.

Looking back it seems even more dreamlike that they actually did that.  No outsider has even come close to breaking into the top four since.  For years beforehand I’d been willing a small team to actually break the monopoly (or should that be sexopoly?  I’m now wondering what I’d find if I googled ‘sexopoly’?) of the same teams always qualifying for the Champions League. But none ever seemed to be able to manage the consistency to actually do so.

Rumour has it David Moyes still sends Collina Christmas cards

There is the exception of Everton, who forced us to go and win ‘old big ears’ in Istanbul, by qualifying for the Champions League themselves. Only for them to make an unholy mess of their one shot at glory.  Then there was a period when Charlton, of all clubs, used to make an unlikely annual bid for the top four only to fall to pieces every February.  And then Leicester not only did that, they went and won the bloody league. 

The visit of Leicester also means the return of Brendan Rodgers to Anfield for the first time since his unceremonious sacking. Actually, I’ve no idea whether it was unceremonious or not to be honest. Given it wasn’t actually me who fired him. It just seems to be the law that you have to use that word to describe sackings but nothing else. It’s a bit like how a bottle of red wine always had to be described as a ‘decent red’ – usually in relation to Alex Ferguson’s post match routine, when it was seen as an affront to the ‘great man’ if the opposing manager failed to turn up to his office post-match with said decent red. 

Is Klopp tall? Or, are we all just small?

I’m not quite clear what ever became of those managers who dared show up with some white wine (why do you never hear of a decent white?), a couple of G&T’s or a few cans of Lidl own-brand scrumpy (Ian Holloway I’m looking at you).

I’ve no idea whether Brendan used to turn up with anything (I’d imagine if he did it would have an umbrella in it). But I’ve always felt he has never got the credit he deserved from Reds fans.  Whether it’s because he took over from St Kenny, some of the pseudo- psychobabble he used to come out with in interviews. Or, is it because he is short and Klopp is tall? Is there a psychological caveman type thing subconsciously going on here? Or am I talking pseudo psychobabble bollocks?

Does this mean I should apply for the Leicester job, maybe? I don’t know.  But he took what was arguably the worst performing Liverpool side in 50 years (yes I know we got to two cup finals but points wise it was the worst season since we got relegated in the 1950’s, and the football was bloody awful at times. Within two years had taken us to an ace of the title.  There was an immediate improvement in the likes of Henderson and Stewart Downing (remember him?). 

That’s the mark of a good manager.  It’s not just about who you sign.  It’s the improvements you make to the players you do sign (or inherit).  This is an area where Klopp has been superb, Ferguson (grrrr) and his bottles of Rioja used to excel, and one of many areas where our chums from down the M62 seem to have lost their way in recent years.

So basically I think I’m saying this is going to be a tough one.  Leicester were after all the only team, bar Man City themselves, to take a point from Anfield last season.  So Big Red Combined Harvester 2 Leicester 1.  Firmino and Milner to score, Maddison (a player I’d be very happy if we signed) to get their goal and Klopp having to fend off awkward allegations about his sheepdog running amok savaging the local livestock down Anfield Road, in his post match interview.  . 

We Conquered all of Europe: Red Odyssey II is almost here

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Released on 16th September

By Jeff Goulding

We Conquered All of Europe: Red Odyssey II charts the re-emergence of Liverpool FC as one of the most feared and respected teams in European football. In 2015, Jurgen Klopp arrived at Anfield and set about rebuilding a sporting empire. In order to succeed he would need to transform its legions of fans from doubters into believers – and, in the process, would take them on the greatest of sporting odysseys.

In this book, I chronicle the whole journey through the eyes of the people who lived it, the supporters. Also included are key insights from former players, as well as eyewitness accounts of some of the most incredible moments of the Klopp era. Relive the humbling of Barcelona’s Messi and Suarez. Absorb the electric atmosphere on the Kop as the Reds pulled off the seemingly impossible, and journey with the fans as they conquered all of Europe.

Red Odyssey II takes the reader through it all – the highs and the lows – and describes how Klopp awakened one of football’s sleeping giants.