It’s just as well to watch the cinnamon speckled beard and hair combination of Adam Bogdan and Joe Allen play in the Capital One Cup as it is to gaze longingly into the eyes of a newly procured love, plucked from the streets and placed beside your fireplace.
Sinews of a frail, beating heart set aside for a moment, the palpitations which ensue cause a vibrato to echo through an empty chest cavity, save the wretched lungs of a pack a day Chesterfield smoker.
Downed pints follow the first touch of a small round object that humanity’s deemed important enough to assign a first name to, along with billions of pounds. Alongside this bloated person sit their closest peers: rambling in excess, espousing epithets to the wind in hopes of their sticking and travelling far enough away to rid their own troubled mind of the wanton maltreat hurled with reckless abandon.
Ever so “hip” with the times, there’s an inclination to refer to them as the “Tricky Reds” or maybe even “Klopp’s Boys”, but alas, the modicum of choice today remains a succinct and perfunctory Liverpool.
Like an unrequited love, they have a predetermined course set for self-destruction, taking all who support and surround them into the catacombs of mid-table turmoil while simultaneously professing their undying passion for the everyday man who “gets” them.
Though it’s hard to let them go, it’s even harder to stay, hoping that overturning a new leaf will somehow depose of their past behavior in a grand siege of the very principles which makes those closest fall in love in the first place.
Let not the most sincere of intentions be cast astray when faced with the prospect of grand accomplishment. A league title would mean the world to a city, but the likelihood of all odds being defied is what scares people the most. If all normalcy can be sacrificed for the sake of a single structure defying moment, then who’s to say there’s ever true equilibrium experienced in day to day life.
The further up the table they catapult, the more at risk a whole population falls, for falling victim to another witless dream could very well break them. The truth in life and love is quite simple: if you never dare to dream, you never dare to be disappointed.
So sit and be merry, for something wicked this way ventures, with the intention of seizing your hopes and desires, for another quaint period of bliss prematurely accentuated.
