Neil Atkinson’s post-match review for The Anfield Wrap after Liverpool 1 Newcastle United 2 in the 2024-2025 League Cup final at Wembley…
EVERYBODY got what they deserved.
Liverpool have perpetrated some heists in our time. Arsenal in 2001. Cardiff in 2012. Obviously Istanbul, but is it a heist if magic is involved?
They’ve had some heists perpetrated on them. Athens ‘07. United ‘77. Madrid in ‘22, though is it a heist if the game happens in a different dimension to the fans?
Had they got an equaliser after Federico Chiesa’s consolation today it would have been the heistiest heist of them all.
Because Liverpool barely deserve to have their travel home boxed, let alone taking that game to extra time. Curtis Jones and Chiesa in an Uber. Everyone else wondering why the trains are so shit.
They were second best in every department. You name a department and Newcastle bossed it. They had greater clarity of purpose. They were smarter. Harder. Faster. That Daft Punk song. They were that over and over and over again. Everything they did was crisper.
They covered their injury and fitness issues better. They gave everything, found some more and gave that too. Joelinton is an absolute nightmare to play against. He cheats and fights and plays entirely on the red line. You may not, but on days like today I take my hat off to him.
Alexander Isak is much fancied, but today Jacob Murphy is a credit to himself. Dan Burn wins anything and my god do Liverpool make that easy for him, but nonetheless. Tino Livremento is constantly sound and Harvey Barnes a thorn. It was Newcastle’s unfancied boys who carried them home.
But there were also no surprises. I could have picked their team and approach. They were the Newcastle we were always going to get. The one everyone else has got.
They have won this cup beating the team who currently sit fourth, the team that currently sit second twice and the league leaders. They deserved to win all of those games. They deserve to lift the thing.
There is only one facet in which Newcastle do not deserve to lift the cup and that is the intensity of the bootlicking in singing the national anthem while holding up scarves branded and provided by frigging Sela. But what do you expect? The Jarrow March achieved nothing and the north east craves crumbs from the British establishment’s wobbly table.
A low blow, indulgent and unbecoming really, but at least a blow, which is more than The Reds managed for 93 minutes.
The biggest concern is that the manager has picked one hell of a fortnight to hit his rockiest period since taking the job. To date the waters have been entirely placid, but there is much to question in his last four selections now we see them as a body of work. It begs a ton of questions. For instance: What has he been seeing in Diogo Jota and Cody Gakpo in training that we haven’t seen on the pitch?
Gakpo in particular looked a million miles short of fitness on Tuesday and looked 999,999 miles short of fitness today, but was introduced as his third sub.
It’s legitimate to be concerned by Jota; since coming back he has only really looked himself off the bench. All this in turn throws open questions about the use of the squad. Harvey Elliott and Chiesa have, in different ways, looked bright enough.
Gravenberch wears his miles heavily suddenly which would be fine. but Mac Allister wears them heavier. I’d have started the senior goalkeeper but who knows what promises have been made.
I think he’s picked the wrong team for four games in a row and if you have been listening to the shows you will know that. But I get to say that. I have less information and my assertions aren’t tested. His are.
Ultimately: you gotta dance with the one that brung you. Or to rephrase, Arne Slot would be within his rights to say “the answer to your questions is going at 2.4 points per game – don’t you just want to win the league, dickhead?” if he read all this nonsense.
Is right, Arne. Happy to be the dickhead. However it hasn’t been a good two weeks after eight months of sheer marvellousness. So let’s regroup and have two more months of marvellousness and head into the summer.
But not “say no more about it”. Since the manager has got in he has laid down the gauntlet, been aware of the size of the club and the demands for excellence so this matters: you can’t be absolutely last for two weeks in March and get away with it. The football is too unforgiving.
More unforgiving than me, if we’re honest. I sit here in Sydney at 6.20am finishing this having enjoyed the hospitality at Cheers and with the New South Wales Supporters Club. It’s going to be impossible to truly fall out with the lads who are making a bold fist in delivering Liverpool’s 20th title.
But. Lads. You have to deliver it now. No excuses. No hiding places.
Time to have a break and then beat Everton.
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I was in Cheers too, in the basement with the Newcastle fans.
This is a fantastic report, aside from the anthem nonsense. Newcastle has always historically been a city loyal to the crown, check history. My other comment would be 80% of the voices I heard packed in that basement were Geordies. Expats. Working class of all generations crying, celebrating, living it. I bumped into a lot of Liverpool fans going in and out and around the city. Not one Scouse accent was heard, so your anti-establishment rhetoric is a bit strange considering so many of your fans are plastic hangers on. You cannot love or understand a club truly, unless you are one of the people.