What’s really odd about this is that only a couple of years ago, we were the team for the big occasion. Maybe it’s the hang-over talking, to be fair I’m not too sure, but I’m really concerned about our penchant for stumbling at the worst time.
Against the run of play Philippe Coutinho continued his uncanny knack for scoring in the FA Cup, giving Liverpool the lead in front of a packed Wembley a half-hour in, but that joy was short-lived. Fabian Delph, charged with the armband in the absence of Gabriel Agbonlahor, set up Christian Benteke to send the two sides into the break on level terms before Aston Villa’s stand-in skipper gave them the lead — and the eventual winner — just before the hour mark. Mario Balotelli may have had a goal incorrectly ruled out for offside as the Reds resorted to pumping embarrassingly hopeless long balls forward, but in the end, the better team won.
Where they were industrious, we were lethargic. Clueless, constantly shifting tactics from Brendan Rodgers were met with the calm organization of his counter-part in Tim Sherwood as his side, looking ripe for relegation before his appointment in February, ran out deserved winners.
To put it plainly, we bottled it and bottled it bad. Sure, the mantra of no easy matches rings as true today as does any other day, but we did ourselves absolutely zero favours. Lacking any sort of real leadership, we regressed throughout as Villa continued to grow in confidence as they so easily exploited what have been our glaring weaknesses all season long.
Injuries didn’t help, of course. There was little surprise when Daniel Sturridge didn’t even make the bench and having Lucas ruled out really set us back, but it was the quality of the performance from the players who were there that’s always going to be the deciding factor. Steven Gerrard, back in the side and, at the end of it, played at the base of midfield in a formation that earned us our worst start in 50-years, was almost nonexistent. The forward line in Raheem Sterling, Philippe Coutinho, and later on Balotelli and Rickie Lambert, were far too isolated, either struggling to get on the ball or having few options when they finally did. Joe Allen and Jordan Henderson couldn’t hang in midfield and Benteke had a field-day with Emre Can who, despite doing a really good job there, still isn’t an actual defender.
At the end of the day though, it comes back to the manager. Like I said earlier, I’m hung-over and it’s bad. I’m sweating, my head hurts despite taking what seemed like an entire bottle of Advil, the nausea rolls in waves and my brain feels like it has been covered with a thin layer of corn syrup. Maybe I’ll write something about this more in-depth — and, let’s be honest, more coherent — when I don’t want to pour the contents of my liquor cabinet down the drain and have myself hypnotized to believe I’m allergic to alcohol, but I will say this: Rodgers failed spectacularly yesterday.
When we won the League Cup under Kenny Dalglish four years ago, we were a team for the biggest stages and a brightest lights. To be fair, it was only against the best that we really performed the way you’d expect us to as we’d often get caught playing down to the level of our opposition — we’d struggle to get a foothold against West Bromwich Albion, but we’d work Chelsea all over the park. As frustrating as that was at the time, it wasn’t all bad since we expect our team to not only hand out bloody noses and black-eyes to the boys at the top, but to challenge for silverware.
If I’m being honest, I miss that. At Liverpool, we measure success in trophies and you’re never, ever going to luck into one of those. Despite having more faith than most in what Rodgers can accomplish with the Reds, we’ve yet to stand up when our name has been called. I really do think he’ll still be around when next season kicks-off, but what I’m not sure of is how many more opportunities he’s going to have to finally get it right when the occasion demands that nothing but our best will do.
–Steven
