The Steve Kelly Column - The Final Curtain

A 4-4 draw with the worst team in the league? Of course; how else would you end a looney tunes season like this one? From very early on – maybe even half time at Fulham – I had it pegged as one we wouldn’t look back on with too much fondness. I know I’m not Mr Optimism at the best of times, like. 

How poor it often was may have come as a shock to the system, but there were signs immediately. Losing Sadio was already big, really big. You had hopes there’d be a proper replacement, but once Nunez began to struggle that bubble got popped a bit. Tiredness after an immense effort during the preceding, fabulous year was bound to be exacerbated by a shorter summer. That winter World Cup screwed everyone, but especially a Liverpool squad that had given everything and really needed time to recuperate properly. 
 

The flies began to drop. Diaz, Jota, Fabinho and Thiago were still there but in shadow form only, while we never could rely on Keita anyway. There were occasional smiles, Bournemouth at home and Rangers in Europe. It was all sparsely rationed. By the time we could sign someone else, Gakpo was in but was always going to take a while to settle -especially with everyone else already playing poorly. 
 

This was when Klopp started to annoy a few. With huge credit in the bank, that mattered little, but if you’re picking a midfield three, they have to be quality, and ready to run miles. God bless Henderson and Milner, but they no longer came up to scratch and others couldn’t be trusted, but he spent 100m on forwards and expected everyone to go wild on Carvalho, Elliott and Jones. 
 

Which some did, obviously, because belieeeeve etc. Curtis did look decent near the end, but with younger players some fans can never rein in their enthusiasm. They always see Fowler, not Ojo. 
 

Opponents finally got round to doing some homework on Trent, his defending almost coming apart at the seams. A debate about where he could end up playing has always simmered, once doused by Klopp claiming he’d thump anyone who criticised the lad, but near the end of the season (too late) a role was found to maximise his considerable gifts and minimise his defects. 
 

Games we lost to Leeds, Bournemouth, Brentford but especially Forest gave off whiffs of complacency, in addition to the reduced press through tiredness. That’s when top four was squandered. Other teams gave us their all, and it often came as a shock to us having sailed through previous seasons like we merely had to turn up. A rude awakening. 
 

Mo signed his contract, hitting absurdly high personal targets without ever seeming his old invincible self. Reduced appearances for Firmino meant he had to work out new partnerships, new stratagems, often unsuccessfully. He reminded me a bit of the John Wark season, when he scored loads, but the team never really gelled. Not sure what to make of his tweet about the Champions League; “come and get me” or “here y’are say this, the fans’ll love it”, who can say? 
 

We got draws in the cups that were too tough to overcome, maybe the Real pasting was a shock but nothing else was. 
 

Nunez may come good, but Klopp went public on his language skills, hinting at someone who already thinks he can just move back to the continent if this gig doesn’t work out. Half the time he was like Rosenthal, someone who could have a phase of hitting everything on the sweet spot without convincing you it was all on purpose. The chaos theory soon palled. He just isn’t clinical enough. Yet, he said hopefully… 
 

The highlight was probably 7-0 against Them, but while it might be an itchy scar they’ll scratch occasionally, they’ve had the better year and still have room to improve. Watching them in the Champions League instead of us is going to hurt. 
 

If Chelsea and Spurs hadn’t made an absolute show of themselves, our season might’ve been even worse. Spending tons of money didn’t seem to work for Chelsea, but that doesn’t mean FSG can wash their hands of the improvements needed here. 
 

That late run may convince them that not much needs fixing. They’re wrong. Their Miracle Man needs help, lots of it. 
 

The rebuild begins now. Like many I’ve been pathetically grateful for the brilliant seasons we’ve recently witnessed. A stumble was expected, and fifth hardly qualifies as a let-down except by dizzying comparison. The standards Klopp set are what makes the social media screech all the louder. Tough, but that’s how it is in the big leagues. 
 

I thought there’d be a couple of years before we had to worry about Newcastle, but they’re ahead of schedule and the huge spending hasn’t even started. What? The Premier League will block that? Yeah, right. 
 

Lijnders said we had to be perfect. I have no problem with that. Who wants to be successful by throwing so much mud some is bound to stick? What’s the bloody point? City have already injected an air of apathy into English football; Newcastle could be its final nail. 
 

Klopp’s Liverpool is back in the Europa League, where it all began. Who’s up for the fight, what funds he’ll receive, whether his magic touch on transfers can be kept up. That’s what we’ll be discussing for the next few months. 
 

We oldies can say we’ve seen it all before, and though it may take longer there’s never been a time in modern football when Liverpool Football Club were dead and buried. There may come a point when all hope seems lost, but that’s always when they surprise us and disappoint everyone else. 
 

Yes, too many players are leaving and all of them for free. There were few moans about the likes of Shaqiri, Minamino or even Divock going, but there was cash for them and modern football chews through footballers like a hungry shark, spits out the bones and is never satisfied. 
 

FSG’s public claim of looking for investment gave off the impression they may have had enough of fighting a lost cause against City. It’s what would replace them that worries me the most. 
 

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Or doesn’t. Barring miracles, this is the last time I’ll ever write about football. The paper’s gone quiet on me for a while, and I can take a hint eventually. 
 

I’ve had over 30 years of writing about the Reds, whether it was for Through the Wind & Rain or the Irish Examiner or a brief spell at ESPN thanks to Dave Usher. 
 

I’m not the go-getter type. Anything I ever did landed in my lap, from a casual remark in the dole office about fanzines way back in 1989, putting me on a course I couldn’t have veered off if I’d wanted to. 
 

The Examiner read my stuff on a website I didn’t even set up for myself, beginning an extra 20 years of writing about the (now only occasionally) mighty Reds. 
 

And not just humiliating puff pieces either; I got to say pretty much what I wanted. It was a bit stolid at ESPN, but still critical and not swearing was a small price to pay, even for someone with borderline Tourette’s. 
 

My last year produced a lot of silence from the paper, but the industry is going through tough times in the digital age and how I lasted this long remains a miracle. The ESPN gig ended abruptly too, but the bottom line is I got paid to give opinions that I was handing out for free all those years ago. Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe it. 
 

How it’s ended is a bit chicken/egg; was my increasing disgruntlement with the modern game seeping into my writing with undetected lethargy, or was a lack of columns making me care less and less? A bit of both. 
 

I was also getting oddly angry with people who complain all the time. That was a weird position to take, so much so that people often ask me if my Twitter account’s been hacked! Well, wonder no longer. 
 

Money’s a bit tight, which is my own stupid fault, but I’ve a great partner and family so no worries just yet. I thought I’d be doing this through to retirement, but sadly not. I won’t become one of those fund-me meffs, but if you see me on Lord Street with a plazzy cup, say hello. 
 

There are many people I have to thank for how long I’ve been doing this. The friends who sold and wrote for the fanzine, Colm O’Connor at the Examiner, Dave for getting me onto ESPN, but the people who were actually bothered about what I had to say meant the most to me. 
 

As a lifelong rule, I never think I’m up to much and can’t understand anyone who thought otherwise. That doesn’t make me any less grateful for everyone who read my interminable blatherings and got something out of them. 
 

Thanks for everything, and Up the Reds. Always. 

 
Steven