The Plymouth Argyle result has produced a mixed reaction among fans, so what can Liverpool take away from being knocked out of the FA Cup?
YOU only get what you give.
Opinions vary hugely after the Plymouth game. Some wanted blood, some shrugged it off with a world-weary ‘bigger fish to fry’ arsedness.
As a man firmly entrenched in a worldview of doing all you can not to be defeated and especially not by a team doing all they can not to drop into the third tier, I was all for leaving senior players at a bus stop somewhere near Exeter and telling them that the Goodison derby is on telly and I hope they enjoy it. I’d say I’m four per cent calmer now.
Be fair, I’d endured close to two hours of Sam Matterface and Lee Dixon. The Dalai Lama would have his hackles raised after going through that.
Sam seemed to think that beating that Liverpool team was the same as beating the Mo Salah, Virgil van Dijk, and Alisson Becker version. There were lads on the pitch I’d never heard of.
I get the whole ‘bigger picture, surely’ argument and of course all three competitions come first.
I can’t stand the FA – I have no idea why we still enter their competition given their role in 1989 (a role for which they escaped even the tiniest censure) – and the tournament is only of interest if we’re in the final, but it’s still OK to look at the senior players and ask if we were keeping them from something more pressing.
Jesus, they were bad. No, not bad. Disinterested. Bullied. Not arsed. Like it was somehow beneath them. The very worst things to be while wearing that shirt.
If that were the showcase to put themselves in contention for a starting place, they drastically misread the memo.
Full credit to Plymouth, obviously. Their only realistic hope was to face a younger side with the older lads having an off-day and even then, they would still have had to battle hard. It went their way. No problem with them at all. But Liverpool’s top-tier professionals posting that performance? Enjoy the bench, lads.
Ah well, hubris never hurt anyone. Win the derby and post photos of Harvey Elliott and Diogo Jota wandering around Swindon bus station looking confused and all will be forgiven.
I just hate losing. I can live with it if the opposition are better or if it’s the complete youth team out there, but eight of our starting 11 were internationals. Furthermore, I think it’s alright to call that out and not be accused of throwing in spoiled tantrums. Going out that meekly isn’t alright regardless of context.
People travelled for that. People spent a fortune to get to one of more remote grounds in the country. Give them something, eh? Maybe some pace or something.
But you’re right, damn you. Everton and Wolves are the only things that matter now and it’s unlikely that any of those involved will be near the Goodison or Anfield pitch come Wednesday and Saturday. I hope not, anyway.
Arne Slot will have learned something about his squad on Sunday and if some of them had uncomfortable nights, then that’s no bad thing. That and six points are the only positives I can take, save for no more exposure to the Matterface/Dixon axis and The One Show.
You only get what you give, and we got what we deserved.
Onwards.
