What happened at Liverpool FC yesterday reverberated across the club's base like a seismic shock. The ripples were massive, jarring and troubling - even for myself, an eternal optimist when it comes to the club's affairs. What's more, is that it was clear that many within and around the cub felt similarly. And by the time the transfer window closed I was caught completely flat-footed and without a crutch. I looked for an escape route. I grappled for an answer. I wavered between disbelief and a nonchalant self-told lie wherein I reassured myself that it all didn't really matter. Transfer deadline day: a charade of hope usually compounded by despair.
From the onset I expected the signing of one Clint Dempsey this window, a positive move in my mind's eye, but by no means the answer to our every prayer. I had settled on that after a summer of relative discontent; the idea that he would be the final peg in a new system that would deliver us from mediocrity. At the very least a springboard, so to speak, that our new manager would use to advance his ideals - even if the b*stard was 29-years-old. A perfect final token after the signings of Borini, Allen, Assaidi, Sahin and Yesil.
The emotions I experienced during the afternoon, and then well into the evening, ran the gamut in hyperspeed: euphoria, hopefulness, patience, disappointment, anger, rage and then finally a form of weird and perverted acceptance. I blamed Twitter and Facebook, agents and ITK's for my wavering emotions. I blamed 24-hour network news and SSN. I blamed an overload of media and message boards, over-saturation and information. I blamed anything but myself. They all must be to blame. I told myself that I will not accept mediocrity as a rabid fan of this historic club - and that FSG were raping us all with a giant sandpaper condom. f**k them, I said. They don't get it. Poor Brendan, he must be fuming.
And then I stepped back.
Hours later, I stepped way back.
My faith in Liverpool FC had wavered.
I repented. I confessed. How could this have happened?
I remembered how much I loved this club and less than two years ago fretted for its future, not as a matter of longevity, but as a matter of days, hours, minutes and seconds. I remembered how H&G took my life's passion to the brink and nearly stole it all. And while this is not an FSG v H&G post, I reminded myself about financial fair play, economic viability and debt… in a time of massive global debt. I remembered how I promised FSG and Brendan Rodgers time; time to take us back to something greater - even though I knew the growing pains would be painful, wrought with fear and trepidation.
And when I stepped back I saw the numbers, as clear as day: the nearly half million pounds saved a week in wages. I saw the skeletal squad of 17 senior players, but it included Agger and Skrtel, Suarez, Allen, Lucas and my captain fantastic Steven Gerrard. I saw a once-in-a-lifteime opportunity for 4 or 5 youth players. I saw a singular goal.
Maybe it was just my mad optimism again and my eternal hope for this magnificent club. But I was upbeat. I saw the next transfer window, and the window after that as real opportunities to begin anew and grow the club - even though this was all supposed to be the case two transfer windows ago. And, in my mind that's a real feat after least year's 100m spending debacle WITHOUT the revenues Champions League Football.
So the last 24 hours were historic indeed. They will, I believe, be remembered by all of us as a "Where were you moment", when the massive ship of Liverpool FC, with its maritime history intact, began to change course drastically and finally right itself. For others, it will be remembered as that lean window when the club waved the white flag before the season even began. But I think those naysayers are sorely mistaken and that narrative will change in time. The ills of the last few years are still a bone in the throat waiting to be coughed up. The financial state of this club when the new owners took over was dire. I have not forgotten that and the raw anguish I felt when I almost lost my club. And I regret almost turning a blind eye to our financial shortcomings and the lousy former owners who masked those dangerous liabilities with ghastly lies. It may be a skint season and the growing pains will smart like salt to an open wound. But I just pray for patience from all of us, because a ship with this history, aura and legend does not change course overnight. But when it does, the rewards will be sweeter than any sugar daddy owner could ever provide.
some guys have all the luck.
