When news broke that Liverpool striker Daniel Sturridge would be left out of the bench against Bourdeaux, supporters everywhere from Kuala Lumpur to Seattle chimed in, harmonically unified with one common thread: disdain for his fitness level, yet again.
It seems almost darkly comical at this point – like a derailed Kafka tale – offering humour and respite, only once the futility of the situation is realised.
Some days, all news out of Melwood is positive, but Liverpool supporters are typically all too prepared to admonish a grimace, maligned with chagrin, when they inevitably hear of the striker’s new ailment.
Unfortunately, striking options have been at a historic low, it seems, since the departure of the beloved Luis Suarez after the 2013-14 season. Though his quality is undeniable when on the pitch, the fact that Sturridge is rarely seen lacing up his boots as of late has led to a crash in morale among supporters who believed they would soon gaze upon his injury-free return.
With the additional injury to Danny Ings, Christian Benteke will be responsible for shouldering the majority of the goal-scoring load up top for the foreseeable future.
Peering down from the Anfield stands, the Birmingham native will yet again be reminded of the poor fitness he has maintained since joining Liverpool in the winter of 2013. An incredible shame, given his scoring record, all hope appears to have vanished that Sturridge will ever have the opportunity to play a full season without interruption.
There once was a moment, in the springtime of 2014, when a certain partnership grafting pace from the British Isles with South American grit and guile tore defensive pairings in the Premier League to ribbons with their tactically masterful movements inside the penalty area. While each and every supporter will cherish those times that led up to the greatest ‘almost championship’ in league history, it will always be difficult to accept that we may never see Sturridge at those levels again.
A cool breeze aligns itself in congruence with a light rain, falling in a myriad of directions as it meanders toward the pitch below. In the stands, a dejected striker sits, clad in his match-day suit. Gazing at the starting eleven, he sees a spot which used to belong to him, some time ago. Severity and length understandably relevant, there has yet to be a moment that Daniel Sturridge needed support like he does now.
