So Chelsea’s 86 game unbeaten run is over; ended – wouldn’t you just know it – by their bitterest rivals of recent years. But Liverpool’s win wasn’t a dramatic event; indeed, now that the euphoria of the immediate aftermath has dissipated, the prevailing feeling is one of surprise at just how straightforward the result was.
A complete performance
This is not entirely without precedence; although Liverpool have struggled in the league at Stamford Bridge under Benitez, their European alter-egos, whilst not registering a victory, have performed far better. This, however, wasn’t just a ‘European’ display; it was a ‘European’ display wrapped in fancy paper and finessed with silk ribbons. Endeavour, organisation, pragmatism – these have been the bywords of the Benitez era, and to those we may now add class and composure. There were no panicked, aimless hoofs; no frantic scrambles in the six yard box or hacked goal line clearances; and only one last-gasp tackle – the indefatigable Carragher on Deco.
Instead, Liverpool’s performance was laced with some fine passages of intricate passing, allowing them to weave their way out of tight situations, frustrate their opponents, whittle down the clock, and come tantalisingly close to widening the deficit. If Xabi Alonso’s deflected goal was undeniably fortunate, he can count himself singularly unlucky not to have added to his tally in the second half, when his astutely placed free kick wrong footed Petr Cech only to snap back off the foot of the post. There were other chances, too: an audacious Gerrard volley was clawed away by Cech; Dirk Kuyt hit a well-struck shot narrowly wide; and the impressive substitute Ryan Babel muscled his way beyond John Terry before unleashing a ferocious drive that looked destined for the top corner, only to whistle just past the post.
Limp Chelsea
In contrast, Chelsea looked short of ideas. There was much honest toil but little inspiration. That can be partly ascribed to Benitez’s tactical acumen: Ashley Cole and Jose Bosingwa, Chelsea’s buccaneering fullbacks, were pinned back by Dirk Kuyt and Albert Riera respectively. When they did venture forward, they were restricted to deep crosses, easily fielded by Liverpool’s towering centre-backs, who dominated the pathetically subdued Chelsea pairing of Nicholas Anelka and Solomon Kalou.
Meanwhile, in the centre of the pitch, Xabi Alonso and the excellent Javier Mascherano patrolled the area in front of Liverpool’s back four, neutering the threat posed by Deco and Frank Lampard, and allowing Gerrard the freedom to maraud forward in support of Robbie Keane. Gerrard was, as ever, the pulsing hub of Liverpool, incisive going forward and diligent in defence. Often criticised for his extravagant ‘hollywood’ passing, here he distributed the ball with intelligence and accuracy, despatching two raking long passes with breathtaking precision.
Up-front for Chelsea, the impotence of Nicholas Anelka made the absence of Didier Drogba, so often the scourge of Liverpool, painfully apparent. Considering that relative paupers Liverpool coped admirably in the absence of Fernando Torres, Chelsea’s failure to do likewise is a damning indictment of their transfer policy. Just where has all the money gone? If Chelsea missed the ingenuity of Joe Cole and the robustness of Drogba so acutely, they have only themselves to blame.
Lessons learned?
So we come to the inevitable question: what – if anything – does this tell us about Liverpool’s title credentials? In past seasons Benitez has bemoaned Liverpool’s poor results against the rest of the ‘top four’, pointing out – somewhat redundantly – that had Liverpool not lost at Old Trafford in 2006 they would have overhauled their Lancashire rivals to finish second instead of third. This season they have already beaten both Manchester United and Chelsea, and hold a 100% record in the mini league at the Premiership summit. But eighteen years is a long time, and sceptical Liverpool fans saddled with inferiority complexes following the trauma of the 1990s, are justifiably wary of indulging in rash predictions. Hanging over all is the chilling memory of Gerard Houllier’s ‘ten games from greatness’ hubris.
Let’s take it one game at a time, starting with Portsmouth and the return of Crouchigol on Wednesday.