Goaters 103 wrote:Funniest thing I read today was in his first interview Dalglish refuted claims that he was out of touch and that the game had passed him by. He also stated he is confident of getting Liverpool back on track and knocking Nottingham Forest off their lofty perch.
Crossie wrote:Scouse fans are self imploding.
For FUCKS SAKE get a grip you bunch of wankers, your the joint 1st most successful club in this country, the home of football. All that and you haven't won the league for 20 fucking years.
It seems we are to blame for Souness destroying their youth culture, Roy Evans not having a clue, Houllier fucking them up with foreign buys and culture changes, Benitez fucking them up even more with Spanish wasters, and Hodgson getting left with crumbs of fuck to try and make a penis out of.
Like people keep saying, you don't become a shit manager in 4 months. I know we went through out managers, but we never did anything like they have done today. Coppell resigned didnt he? Hodgson has decades of experience, he would have got them sorted by the end of the season, new investment and back challenging for the top 4 next season.
Dalgliesh is a dinosaur and there wont be any improvement, perhaps a couple of wins in the next few games then back to normal, bottom 6 I predict.
Torres is gone in the summer, Gerard will fade into nothing because he doesn't have the balls to leave now. Reina back to Spain. Do they have anyone else worth talking about? No.
What goes around comes around, they are staying in the wilderness and we are back in the big time. Scum will follow them in the next couple of years. They are just a Taggart stroke away from being fucked.
Tick Tock
Chelsea have fallen apart, Abramovic probably cant be arsed rebuilding it from the bottom up again. Arsenal will always be a bunch of cheating pussies who don't invest in players who are proper men. You can't win anything with poncey cheating French halfwit children.
The future is City.
Then Spurs
Then Blackfuckingpool
john@staustell wrote:I agree with Antii.
Never quite understood how taking Fulham from 8th to 13th or whatever, and losing a cup final that even Rangers got to FFS, deserved manager of the year. On top of his previous flops at top level like Blackburn and Inter.
A man promoted way beyond his abilities.
To those of us who hold Liverpool Football Club to be far more important than life itself, the betrayals of the past 12 months have been sickening to bear. You wouldn't rape a dog the way Liverpool Football Club has been raped. Yet that is precisely what has happened. This is what has been done to us – to my dog, to Stan Boardman's dog, to Carla Lane's dog, to Tom O'Connor's dog, repeatedly and in broad daylight and the bizzies do nothing. People play the blame game, they say, oh, well, oh, well, like, you shouldn't have lost all them games. But we wouldn't have lost them if other teams, woolyback teams and all, hadn't gone out to win them even though they were fully aware of the consequences for a city prostrate with grief. Yeah, two can play at the blame game. You, you all have played a deliberate part in our downfall, in heaping adversity on a city that once walked tall, still walks tall and this we do not lightly forgive or forget. You have all got dog on your penis.
But now, not for nothing do the words “Christ Almighty” ring out across the footballing world for we have risen again and we have come back to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Our Messiah, King Kenny, has returned from the sandy wilderness. I'd have gone for Souness myself, or Tommy Smith but have faith in our new mystery owners who in this appointment have shown that they understand the Liverpool Mentality which runs red like blood through the head of every Scouser. Red is the face of Dalglish, blood red. All hail King Kenny, to wash away the sins of his forefathers – that Roy bloke, that Spanish feller, Gerard Who he, eh? We are more than worthy.
Here is a man who has spent his years in exile honing and purifying himself for the present task in hand – all of those Japanese adverts for whiskey, all that pro-celebrity golf, all those years of telly punditry staring with glassy, bloodshot eyes at a monitor and making vague, croaking noises during the half time interval on Sky, all those corporate events cracking up the room with his lengthy, semi-intelligible anecdotes about the time someone asked for his autograph thinking he was Kevin Keegan, all those years standing on a touchline looking thoughtful, trying to remember if he was managing Newcastle or Celtic, all of this sets him in proud and perfect stead for the battle ahead. The heart, the passion, the hope and the pride, the guts, the glory. Liverpool.
Guts and heart. Shirt. You should have seen those fans celebrating, celebrating as if John Bishop had just won the Oscar for playing the part of a 44 year old cab driver who fulfils his dream of playing for Liverpool in the Cup Final in a heartwarming, Alan Bleasdale-scripted movie called Fare Lies The Wind, with Margi Clarke as the wife who urges him to fight on and fulfil that dream, even after he loses the use of both kneecaps after some Mancunian gangsters do him for something he never. All season long, the doubters have been sneering, saying things like, “After this 15th defeat, can Liverpool still win the Premier League?” Course we can. Course we will. With a player like Stevie Gerrard in the team, running his heart and guts out for the full 19 minutes before he gets sent off for something he never, of course we will and don't you forget it. Ever. We are back. Things are different now. Blackburn, Blackpool, Wolves, Cilla Black is no longer your toilet.
And Kenny, see, he understand these players. They may not understand him. He understands them. He understands that they're the team that play in red. That much he knows. And Kenny, he knows, all he has to say to them, in that dressing room, is “Well, ah – Stevie, and, er – you others – you know the way onto the pitch. Go out there and (unintelligible).” That's all those players need to hear. Because know the way onto the pitch they do, have faith. And they'll run around all day, through walls, run through the trenches for that man. Just you watch. We're heading back to the 1980s. We're heading back to the top of Division One.
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