Fog Blank
After a week where the weather brought the country to a halt, it wasn’t the snow but the fog that threatened last night’s game. But the weather wasn’t our only enemy. With half the team sidelined and Harry stranded when his flight went the way of many others – although it was down to a technical fault rather than the snow – we did well to emerge from the Merseyside mist with a draw.
The transport wasn’t the only thing taking a while to get going. A cagey first half was very much reminiscent of the uneventful opening periods at Newcastle and Man City. Unlike those two games though, there wasn't the downpour of goals after the break. While the second half didn’t produce much more than the first in the way of chances, the barrage on our goal was growing ever stronger until by the end, it threatened to become an avalanche. I’d better stop the meteorological metaphors before I end up sounding like Clive Tyldesley.
The point is, we didn’t get engulfed. We didn’t get buried. We stood tall as the pressure built and the crosses came in, with Ledley marshalling us at the back and Dawson at his courageous best. If he hadn’t timed that early challenge on Carroll perfectly, it was a definite penalty, a possible red card and a probable game over. Walker will have impressed the watching Capello with the defensive side of his game, while Beni – the usual odd moment aside – gave no quarter on the other flank. Parker dragged his battered body from one challenge, block or interception to the next, surviving Adam’s studs and Suarez’s flailing boot and still getting up to sweep away the hosts’ attacks. When Liverpool did threaten to get through, Friedel repelled everything that came his way. Livermore put in another impressive hard-working display in the middle while even Kranjcar rolled up his long sleeves to show he can do more than just the pretty stuff. Modric was neat and silky in the first half, helping to link things together without ever looking lethal.
Things weren’t quite as effective for us in the other half of the pitch. Bale, probably not helped by rough treatment from Skrtel and the advertising hoardings, struggled to make an impact. When he can’t get into the game, he seems to end up trying too hard to make things happen, taking on mobs of defenders or shooting from impossible distances. It wasn’t a surprise when he failed to put away the best chance of the game, his approach and strike lacking any conviction or confidence. It’s a concern that he’s twice been booked for simulation this season, although maybe you can understand a guy with glass ankles falling aside in anticipation of the crunching contact of Daniel Agger’s outstretched boot. Ade struggled without a partner to bounce the ball off. Without an attacking threat, we spent an increasing amount of time on the back foot, struggling to clear the ball to another white shirt. The longer it went on, the more it became an exercise in defence. We might have tried to change the emphasis of the game by bringing on Saha to partner him, giving us more of a punch up front and trying to force Liverpool backwards. But with Ade ineffective and tiring, maybe we didn’t want to open the game up even more and expose ourselves further. When Saha came on to replace rather than support Adebayor, he found himself just as outnumbered.
You can’t always play with speed, style and attacking intent. It’s especially hard when you’re at a place like Anfield and it becomes harder still when you’re without such attacking talent as Defoe, Lennon and Van der Vaart. Sometimes, you just don’t have that zip. It’s like wading through thick snow. On those occasions when you struggle to string things together, when you find yourselves under pressure and your most potent attacking weapon isn’t quite firing, you need to do the other side of the game well. You need to dig in, make sure you don’t lose the game. That’s not something we’ve been good at in the past. Only two years ago, we went up to Anfield and offered a lot more in attack than we did last night, but got bullied off the park and comfortably beaten. It’s no good being nice and frilly round the edges if you’re soft in the middle. As last night’s fog cleared and the boys dusted themselves down, it was plain to see that we’re not soft in the middle anymore.