Monday, April 21, 2008 Villaflor: Not another red-letter day for the Blues By Noel Villaflor Footnote
TONIGHT, at first sight of the full moon, I’ll make a wish to the gods of football. No, make that three.
I’ll wish the pitch in Anfield swallows Liverpool FC whole early morning this Wednesday. I’ll wish George Gillete and Tom Hicks do nothing else but gnaw at each other until what’s left is Rafa Benitez’s bald pate. I’ll wish wonder boy Fernando Torres suffers from indigestion.
Pardon me, but my zeal for football is matched only by my dislike for Liverpool.
These sentiments, of course, could only come from a fan. It is as irrational a temperament as cursing the gods for siding with the enemy. As such, it is forgivable.
You see, I wear several hats, among them are that of the football fan and that of a sports columnist.
But as a columnist, one should not be driven by spite when writing, even if it’s against the very team that makes you see red. A distinction must be made.
Besides, the columnist’s good judgment tells me that I ought to give Liverpool the respect it deserves, especially that the club is as old as the game itself.
(Liverpool was founded at about the same time the domestication of animals was discovered. Liverpool FC fans are even older, and to my misfortune, they are light years more knowledgeable than me when it comes to football. So it is wise not to annoy them.)
Before continuing with this piece, I want to reassure you, dear reader, that the fan—or anti-fan—in me shall take the back seat, and will let informed objectivity be my guide.
This is most important when trying to evaluate the Champions League game at hand: the fist leg of the semifinals between Liverpool and Chelsea FC, perhaps the most bitter of modern-day English rivals.
This is the third semifinals between the two teams in four years. The Reds stopped the Blues back in 2005 and went on to win in Istanbul, then repeated over the Londoners in 2007, ending as runners up.
With history on their side, will Liverpool frustrate Chelsea anew?
How the Reds dispatched the Gunners 4-2 out of the Champions League race two weeks ago should be warning enough that the five-time European champions are in top form, which is ironic considering their lackadaisical fourth-place position in the domestic league.
Chelsea, despite manager Avram Grant’s pronouncements that revenge must not be his team’s motivation, have only one thing in mind: destroy their two-time tormentor and reach the finals for the first time.
They can do this by drawing first blood away in Wednesday’s game (Tuesday night in England), that is if the Reds-–to recall former Chelsea boss Jose Mourinho’s famous words—won’t park the bus in front of goal.
And when the Blues do win, they can return the favor and cram the box with bodies. Throw Drogba in, bore the fans to death, it doesn’t matter, so long as they carry an away goal at home in Stamford Bridge for the 2nd leg. That’s how Liverpool always did them in.
The Blues may not be the most awe-inspiring team to watch, but the Reds are far worse. Blame it on their counter-attacking style. At least Chelsea tries to attack, half the time.
Liverpool is the equivalent of a tentative counter-punching boxer the likes of Juan Manuel Marquez or Floyd Mayweather: it plays defense most of the time and hits the opponent at the break.
Exciting? No. Effective? Yes. (And effective enough to keep me up way past 2:30 a.m. two days from now.)
But for Liverpool, there’s bad news (good news for Chelsea). Captain Steven Gerrard, along with two other key players, is in doubt for Wednesday’s game with a hip injury, sustained from this weekend’s game against Fulham.
How many times has Gerrard unleashed lethal, pinpoint shots miles from goal to save Liverpool in big matches? In his absence, who will fill his shoes? What a blow to the Red’s campaign.
It seems the gods are finally smiling down on Chelsea, which on paper is far superior team between the two: close second in the league, a formidable lineup, a manager in Grant who has continued to defy the odds and his critics.
But as they say in non-football mad Philippines: the ball is round. (To the superstitious, a full moon signifies the height of lunacy, and the sport isn’t spared. Two round objects almost sound like a disaster.)
Chelsea can be struck thrice by that most irrational of results. Or not.
Let’s just wait who’ll be singing the blues on Wednesday. Before someone goes mad. (gibreel6@yahoo.com)
