By the time I was tucked up by the fire in my local pub, the Man City/Liverpool game was well over and the clientele - it's a very definite Reds pub - were basking in the afterglow of a great win. I, of course, was subjected to various puns (Hey, lad, can you stoke the fire while you're there etc), but once that was done we fell into a conversation that was effectively about Kipling's assertion that triumph and disaster are both impostors.
The cricket was mentioned. After the first ODI English cricket was buried; we were lower than Bangla Desh in world rankings. Three wins later and we were contenders for the next World Cup.
Liverpool lost at home to Palace and it wasn't just accepted that Klopp had his work cut out. No, Klopp was a bad appointment. Tear apart City and suddenly Klopp's team should be awarded the Premier League, both domestic cups and the Europa League without the need to play another game, while the "great man" should be offered the freedom of the city (a slightly exaggerated summary of the views of a certain section of armchair fans). Of course, true Reds knew this to be nonsense and were content to be basking in a unexpected win.
And of course, Stoke "do a job" on us and suddenly the season is over. A word in your ear, Jose. Tell the boys to go Christmas Shopping this weekend (there are some excellent bargains to be had around the North West), rather than bother turning up at The Etihad. You're doomed I tell thee. The League Cup? Forget it. Even Aston Villa now represent a threat.
Maybe it's that I am off to my beloved France today that is giving me a sense of perspective. Or is it that the response that we're either great or crap is beginning to wear thin? Let's be clear. I'm not knocking anyone here. Just highlighting the collective hysteria to which we all subscribe at times. Losing 1-0 at home to Stoke is cause for a gallic shrug and muttering "c'est la vie" into our beer. No more. No less.
The cricket was mentioned. After the first ODI English cricket was buried; we were lower than Bangla Desh in world rankings. Three wins later and we were contenders for the next World Cup.
Liverpool lost at home to Palace and it wasn't just accepted that Klopp had his work cut out. No, Klopp was a bad appointment. Tear apart City and suddenly Klopp's team should be awarded the Premier League, both domestic cups and the Europa League without the need to play another game, while the "great man" should be offered the freedom of the city (a slightly exaggerated summary of the views of a certain section of armchair fans). Of course, true Reds knew this to be nonsense and were content to be basking in a unexpected win.
And of course, Stoke "do a job" on us and suddenly the season is over. A word in your ear, Jose. Tell the boys to go Christmas Shopping this weekend (there are some excellent bargains to be had around the North West), rather than bother turning up at The Etihad. You're doomed I tell thee. The League Cup? Forget it. Even Aston Villa now represent a threat.
Maybe it's that I am off to my beloved France today that is giving me a sense of perspective. Or is it that the response that we're either great or crap is beginning to wear thin? Let's be clear. I'm not knocking anyone here. Just highlighting the collective hysteria to which we all subscribe at times. Losing 1-0 at home to Stoke is cause for a gallic shrug and muttering "c'est la vie" into our beer. No more. No less.
