Klopp, Comparisons to Spurs and Starting Afresh
When one hears the terms ‘spineless’, ‘bottlers’ and ‘fucking hilarious’, the only thing that could and should immediately spring to mind is the universal sign for ‘slap yourself in the face, kick yourself in the crotch’ style comedy… Tottenham Hotspur. The token orange in your Christmas stocking, a milk-less bowl of own brand cereal, the last seat on the bus next to *that* guy in the unexplainable blood stained trench coat. You get my point. Spurs and unrelenting disappointment go hand in hand with a Brendan Rodgers post match interview and cheesy nonsensical slogans he’d earlier read from the box of his morning Cheerios. Forever consistent and forever fucking hilarious.
However, loosely using the term ‘recent times’, could it not be said that our beloved red men have, in the past, 10 years or so, become a glorified, if not eerily comparable Tottenham Hotspur. The almost poetically scripted calamity followed by disaster, followed by calamity, followed by, you guessed it, more disaster narrative, have left us, as a club and as a fan base the proverbial laughing stock and *Seven times awarded most memeable club* for and by all opposition fans.
For every moment of Coutinho brilliance there’s a Sturridge muscle tweak that lasts seven months, for every four mile yard bullet pass from *uncomfortable on the ball* Sakho there’s a Mignolet trying to punch himself in the face from a simple cross or a Skrtel trying to aggressively hump an attacker. I’m driving at the fact that nothing fits into place, Liverpool are the puzzle in your Nan’s attic that’s missing half the pieces.
I always feel that I’m one Jay Spearing or David N’Gog away from a fatal and at points – where Liverpool are involved – welcome heart attack. However, the purpose of this article isn’t to berate the club we hold so dearly nor to insult the little brother Arsenal never wanted, it’s to look into the turning of a page, the beginning of a brand spanking new chapter, a chapter being opened by a beautiful and hairy mad fookin’ German who’ll lead us into the sunset on horseback, or Kloppback, if you’re into that kinda thing.
Adding to the list of pundits holding more credibility than Paul Merson… The Jackson 5 once stated that, “it’s easy as 1 2 3”, something that our very own *squeeeeeeek* Jurgen Klopp has slammed into effect since he slew the character-breathing Brendan Rodgers and touched down in Anfield on the back of a golden eagle. So let’s talk about what Klopp’s done on the pitch. Three draws on the bounce had ‘Arry Redknapp puffing his cheeks out and preaching that “its not all that difficult, this running about lark, bloody foreigners”. If it was that easy Harry, my boy, maybe you could try it yourself for a change *pew pew*. The fact of the matter is, our infectious German has been here less than a month and the resultant effects are clear for all to see. Liverpool look like a team. The players look like – for the first time in months – they aren’t on an awkward first date and they look like they finally know what they’re working towards. The fans know what we’re working towards. We’ve binned the string of sticky first dates and gegenpressed our way into a romantic love affair with a loveable rustic German who treats us right. We’ve been spoilt with aggressive and well organised football.
I’m writing this beaming like a Mamadou Sakho on Rodgers’ getting binned ‘mas-eve’, I think I’m genuinely in love, should I just.. like.. call him? My wild bratwurst fantasies aside… Klopp’s transformed us from top to bottom. We’ve played seven games (thus far) and we’ve kept three clean sheets. CLEAN SHEETS. I AM SHOUTING THIS AT YOU. Sakho, pre-injury, looked like a man possessed *sad face*, Mignolet, pre-Pardew, had caught the ball at least 4 times *sad face*, Clyne’s cemented his place for the next three decades and Moreno… well I’m fairly certain he actually lives at Klopp’s house and calls him Daddy. Skrtel? Come on guys, put a sparkly pink dress on a brick, what are you left with? A fucking brick, that just now looks like a tit in front of his friends. Klopp’s only a man. Cut him some slack, you greedy bastards. Without going into too much further detail (I’ve rambled enough) it’s not just the defence that Klopp’s developed, the attack looks fluid, our little Brazilians are coming to life – Firmino looks a class act – and while there’s still tons to be resolved, players to get fit and buys to made in the upcoming months… there’s a million reasons for Liverpool fans to be happy right now. That’s right, I used the words Liverpool fans and happy in the same sentence. Somebody hold me.
There’s just stacks and stacks of positives to take from Klopp’s short reign; we obliterated Mourinho’s Chelsea at the Bridge, we won away in Europe for the first time since what felt like 1981 and whilst we *again* faced defeat, misery and despair under the lights to a defensively possessed Crystal Palace, I didn’t, for the first time in months have that ‘I’ve just spilt tomato ketchup all over my best jeans’ feeling after a loss. Yeah I still spilt the ketchup… but who cares, we have Klopp, why would I need trousers?
Poor metaphors aside, Klopp’s captured and reignited the most important aspect of the club – the fans. Bar *that* 13/14 season, we’ve been starved of joy year after year. Disappointment and failure had become ‘the norm’ and all of the values that, we, Liverpool fans hold so very dearly felt nothing but happy memories drowning in a wasteland of chaos and disaster. While some individuals will still insist upon leaving early (which frankly is shocking behaviour) the feeling surrounding the club and between the fans is somewhat magical, it’s almost like everyone knows we could be on the verge of something very special, the beginning of an era, a Klopptastic Dynasty, a Jurgen Empire *drools*.
I’m driving at the fact that Klopp understands the club, he understands the fans and what it all means, he’s not arrogant *cough splutter we showed great character cough* and he’s certainly not a nobody. It’s easy to ignore his successes at Dortmund because of all those stars he inherited like Gotze, Lewandowski, Reus – except, my dearest and deeply envious opposition fans, he didn’t inherit them, he created them.
At Liverpool, he’s taking over a club significantly larger than Dortmund and with stronger financial backing – without forgetting the squad literally rammed with young talent available to manipulate. We’ve given Klopp a base, he knows it and we know it, all we have to do is sit back, relax and watch the magic unfold before our eyes. It feels like something out of Disney, Jurgen Klopp the handsome prince climbing the highest tower to awaken Coutinho’s form with a kiss, only to mercilessly slay the beast ‘Louis Van Gaal’, restoring the kingdom of his beloved mighty reds and setting his people free from comparisons to Tottenham, fucking, Hotspur.
“Because he’s not our Hero. He’s a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A Dark Knight” – Every Liverpool fan in existence on Jurgen Klopp. They say that Rome wasn’t built in a day… but face it, if Klopp was there… they’d have been pretty damn close. The man is brilliant. He’s infectious, everything he does gets me excited, every training picture, every interview, every little fist pump on the touchline, I feel it, you feel it, we all feel it. This piece has been a joy to write, I’m not berating team selections or ludicrous substitutions, I trust Klopp, I trust him to make us a force again. His very arrival has put us on the map, everyone’s talking about us, suddenly the idea of attracting top international talent doesn’t seem that far-fetched and no-longer will we be dipping our toes into the finest pool of talent scouted from BBC’s Match of the Day (sad to see Gary Lineker get sacked as head scout though).
I don’t really know how to wrap up this piece because, when it comes to Klopp, I feel like we’re only just getting started – and we are – but alas, I must ‘wrap it up’, even though I feel like I’ve not even scratched the surface. Isn’t that how it should be though? We’re an open book, there’s so much positivity to fit in, that I just can’t… and I love it. It’s bliss. No scrutiny, no moaning, just a feeling of excitement. Finally it feels like Liverpool aren’t the guy who spends the whole movie emphatically trying to get the girl but ends up getting hit by a bus instead, it feels like we’re there, we’ve rammed our way through the big church doors and shouted “STOP THE WEDDING, STOP THE WEDDING”, and she’s ours, she couldn’t be without us and we couldn’t be without her. Let’s go on the expensive honeymoon, let’s have the children and let’s buy that house in the country we’ve always wanted. How excited am I about Klopp? I bought a mug with his face on it. I sleep next to it every single night. So, from me to you, be excited, be happy, you have every reason to be – we have Jurgen mother *insert any swear word in existence* Klopp at the helm, he’s all we wanted for Christmas, he’s that pony, he’s that bike, so let’s treasure him and he’ll treasure us. The past is gone, so we all stay for the whole match, we support him and we give him time and he’ll bring us back to where we want to be. Promise.