Jurgen Klopp’s first game at Anfield took exactly 14 days to get here. From signing his contract on 8th October 2015 a lot has happened. Ink has been spilt and opinion has been mounted. A saviour has risen, spoke a fan base which gave rare universal approval to the new man at the helm.
Klopp’s Dortmund regime is thing of legend. The results, the performances. The players and the supporters. All united, all complete in their acceptance that what happened in Germany between 2008 and 2015 was as close to a footballing miracle as you’re ever going to see.
Talking of miracles to Liverpool fans is like trying to sell moon rock to NASA. We know all about them. We embrace them and we enthuse them. We have our own miracles in our locker. Yet, at the same time we must be a dream to sell ambition to. Some strong words and originality and we’re putty in your hand. And on 8th October 2015 the putty we previously were was melted by merely the signing of a contract. Jurgen Klopp was our man, and without the kick of a ball, we were his. We had become his loyal servants and his army of soldiers. He had whipped up a frenzy and created a storm without overseeing one training session, for better or for worse. But there is a problem. And that problem is Anfield.
Outside of England, Liverpool fans are known as wise. Known as hearty and known as brilliant. This, for the most part, is true. We know how to show passion and we ultimately know what we’re talking about. It’s true that we’re knowledgeable about football because we eat, sleep and dream it. When the sun shines on match day, we don’t head out with the family or suggest a day out with the in-laws, we say the same thing every time: “It’s a cracking day of a game of football.”
We meet at the ground early and we consume the ale. All of it. The atmosphere in the bars and pubs around Liverpool never fail to create a buzz. Yet, the ground is where the problem has lay for a long time. Upon entering the ground, the fans have become disenchanted. Anfield has been a tough place to watch football in for over a year. The songs have died quickly, soon followed by the rumblings of discontent. Hard to take, hard to rediscover.
On the appointment of Klopp as manager, though, our fans are almost on trial. Dortmund’s fans are known around Europe. They’re a typhoon of passion. A canvas which has been covered in yellow and black. And this is what Liverpool fans have to become. The Red sea needs to return. Creating an earthquake of noise. A plethora of song raining down upon the man who could well be known as the weatherman. He controls the passion of his club with the tip of his finger. The magician’s apprentice. Like a composer of an orchestra that has forgotten how to play its most famous composition, he must show the way. And the way started last Thursday.
Before kick-off, the stadium speaker was playing the music you might expect from an evening do at a wedding. An uplifting festival of really cheesy shite, representing the most perfect of arranged marriages between the Kop and the Prince of Passion himself, Jurgen Klopp
Upon Klopp’s entrance onto the pitch before Liverpool’s warm up, the volume of the stadium took a dramatic turn for the better. Every fan screamed in euphoric excitement that our very own prize possession had entered the room. It had been said (many times) that Liverpool lacked star quality on the pitch since Suarez left. Gerrard aged and Sterling has moved on, and whilst Coutinho and Sturridge have that potential, form and fitness have stopped them becoming our true big players. Yet right now, we have not only a smooth talker on the bench, but also a master thinker. A man with true star quality. And on the evidence of decibels during his walk onto the Anfield turf, Liverpool fans know this.
The chorus of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ was good. Maybe it was just me, but I expected a huge torrent of emotion during this first attempt to swoon Klopp, but it sounded too much like a set of fans signing, but also waiting for their new leader to enter the ring. They were half ready to cheer. To break rank and leave our motto behind, just this once.
I do admit it was strange not seeing Klopp on the touchline for the first rendition of our anthem, but all being honest, it doesn’t really matter. This show of passion is just a side show. We need winning football. That is our priority.
Once the first ball was kicked, the fans were great. For 20 minutes, the Kop stood in full voice singing song after song, powerful rendition after powerful rendition. For all that has been spoken about our fans this year, this is something that hasn’t happened for even longer. Even during the beautiful days of 2013-14, Liverpool fans never sang throughout the whole game. Yet Thursday night our fans were determined to renovate our broken home into a palace of sound. And for the most part, this happened.
The fans aren’t completely to blame though for an Anfield previously bereft of sound, because for too long Liverpool have been poor on the pitch. No player trying too hard, no manager lighting the fire in their bellies. But with Klopp, that looks to have changed. The pressing in this game wasn’t as high, as furious and as red-hot as previously, but our players seem to be trying. Trying beyond their limitations imposed on them by Brendan Rodgers. The players acted like a tornado trying to impress hurricane. Working, trying, playing.
The fans reacted to this in brilliant fashion, and the moment of the game had to be the ongoing relationship between the Kop and Mamadou Sakho. Sakho, running through the midfield, dribbling past opposition players like they weren’t there, ran so far Forrest Gump wouldn’t help but be impressed. Getting to the penalty box, he laid it off to Lallana, and began his slow retreat back to neutral ground. Whilst jogging back, the crowd began to show their appreciation in a way that I have rarely seen a group of supporters ever do. “Sakho! Sakho!” was screamed by every man, woman and child in an effort to show the Frenchman that Rodgers has gone, and he can, if he wants, be our leader for the long run. A position Sakho seems to be relishing.
As the match went on, the usual grumblings started as Liverpool continue to be a club who find it impossible to take a corner. Passes were led astray and players’ efforts began to wane. But in all credit to the crowd, when this happened, and as the time ticked on, we began to urge the players on. We noticed their effort this past week. We noticed their strength and their weakness. We impressed our appreciation for their hard work by chanting and singing unlike anything seen during the whole of last season. “Attack, attack, attack!” was the verse of the moment and Liverpool responded in the correct way. Pushing for the win, pushing for the points. But in the race against time, they ran out of track, and the supporters’ wishes were not answered. They were not granted.
Thursday was a day that could have been perfect. I enjoyed what I saw, and I enjoyed what I heard. Far from being a wall of noise, our supporters proved to the players that we’re still here. We’re still in attendance and we still love them. A lot of our players will never have heard Anfield sound like it did during Thursday night. Which is both good and bad. But let’s hope that they go on through their career at Anfield with the wind in their sails and the noise in their ears. Because one thing is for sure: the seed of support is beginning to grow again. And if we can get our first win under Klopp on Sunday, next up is Chelsea. And the shoots of passion may well end up turning into a full-blown plant. And that could be the bedrock of the Klopp era. Up the supporters.
