Isn't coming home supposed to feel good?

Ahh...there's no place like home. Unless you're a Liverpool fan. Because home is hovering somewhere around 4th place. Forever. No matter what.

Now, my apologies must go out in advance to a certain other long-suffering contributor to this wonderful repository of wit and wisdom. For most teams, 3rd (or even 4th for that matter) is nothing to scoff at...but Liverpool is not most teams. Liverpool is (still...somehow) the most successful British team of all time, both in the league (at least until Man U most-likely tie our record this year) AND in Europe (Five times baby. Hey Chelsea, how many European Cups have you got?....oh...).

Liverpool is no ordinary club. As the sign that the players pass under says:



Breathe it in bitches. This. Is. Anfield.

I wish I was born about 15 years earlier. Oh, to witness the splendor that once was the mighty Reds.

Instead...what do I get? The modern annual tradition. Yet another mid-season collapse. From first to third in two weeks, plus two (TWO!!) draws at home against Everton in one week! That alone is enough to put me in a corner sobbing.

I work with Wayne Rooney's uncle. And he is so blue, through and through, he once joked that he was glad Wayne was injured because he couldn't play in Man U's game against Everton. His own nephew! His sister's flesh and blood! Can you imagine what it's like to go to work and encounter that guy when they've even tied Liverpool? I swear, I don't like to hate Tim Cahill. He's an Australian hero: easily the best player we've got. Scored the tying and winning goals against Japan at the World Cup! It tears at my soul!!! But yes!! Liverpool matters more to me than Australia. And I now face Tim Cahill with anger.

What do I get for this loyalty? I'll tell you.

Allow me to set the scene:

For those who don't know (which I'll assume is everyone), I live in Melbourne, Australia. Well...Melbourne is going through it's worst heat wave in a hundred years. Yesterday was 43 degrees (yes, that's celcius, and yes, that's hotter than most people set their hot tubs) and today was 45. I do not have air conditioning in my house.

So...it's really, really, really, really, like, fill-a-bucket-with-my-ball-sweat, hot. And yes, this morning, Liverpool was playing Wigan in an attempt to re-establish some form (after three consecutive draws) and to stay within touch of Manchester United (whom we could tie on points but whom also retains a game in hand). Now... having to work today, I recorded the game and managed to avoid all news of results, planning to reward myself for a hard day of pretending to work by watching my beloved Liverpool maintain their first meaningfull title challenge in as long as I've enthusiastically cheered for them.

So.

Now it's late. The wife has gone to bed. I'm alone with an icy cool gin-and-tonic (or three) watching Liverpool march out to a deserved 1-0 first half lead. The pride is swelling. I'm thinking of our match against Chelsea this weekend and how we can kill off their chances, making it a two horse race between the old foes: Liverpool and Manchester United. We're into the last ten minutes. And what happens?

I'll tell you what happens.

We give up a penalty. Mido scores. Liverpool draws. A close 2nd place becomes a struggling 3rd place and Aston Villa have us squarely in their sights.

I have to agree with this article right here. Benitez has gone insane. I'm losing patience. Big time. Why he played Lucas before Alonso I'll never understand. Without Alonso against Everton in the league, we had no passing fluency whatsoever. We bring him back for the FA Cup and we pass Everton off the park, dominating every stat accept the score sheet (which might have something to do with the fact that Keane wasn't even on the bench. Honestly WTF?)

So what does Rafa do? Leaves Alonso on the bench again, Liverpool struggle to create anything that doesn't come from Benayoun's twinkling toes and Lucas gives up a game-blowing penatly. So...here we are. Fallen to third place. A single point above Aston Villa. And playing Chelsea this weekend.

Ahhh. There's no place like home.