Aston Villa 0 - Liverpool 0
I had high hopes for this match. Aston Villa had a fresh young team consisting mainly of English talent: Ashley Young, Gabi Ablon… Aglon… Abgon… anyways, um, James Milner, and um, Luke Young? Last season, they attacked with verve and played several high-scoring games. And Liverpool … not, on all accounts. Still, they are my team—and they have Torres, so …
And then there was the Barry Saga. Was he going to go, was he going to stay? Would Liverpool match Villa’s price, would Arsenal sneak in and snatch him from the under Rafa’s demonic goatee? Would Martin O’Neill pop a vein in his brain with all the blood pumping up to his head? It had all been very exciting for the first month or so. The following 4 months were less exciting, but still … would Barry show Liverpool just what they missed? Would Liverpool show Barry what HE missed by not getting into one of the top 4 teams, who challenge in the Champions League every season?
All these questions were running through my mind at the start of the match. Well, of course Arsenal hadn’t bothered paying 18 million quid for Barry. First of all, he doesn’t hail from some tiny African country, he’s not under 18, and he costs more than 3 pounds. But all the other questions were fresh in my mind as the game started.
And they were promptly answered. Aston Villa’s fresh young English talent were showing precious little freshness and talent. They didn’t attack much, and the little attacking they did they definitely didn’t do with verve. And Liverpool … well, Torres pulled a muscle after 20 minutes. Game over. With Torres, Rafa’s cunning plot of employing 8 defensive outfield players, isolating Keane on the left flank (in theory) and keeping just 1 up front might have some chance of working. After all, they nicked 3 points at Sunderland with that tactic. And somehow managed to rob Boro from a deserved point. But with Torres limping out, and young N’Gog limping in … well, you see my point.
Barry definitely showed Liverpool 18 million pounds would’ve been a tad on the high side, and Liverpool did their utmost to prove to him that he didn’t miss a thing by not joining them. If this was a match between one of the top 4 teams vs. one of the teams supposedly most likely to break into the top 4 then I’d say Hull and Stoke have nothing to fear.
I vaguely remember a shot on goal by one of the teams around the 43rd minute. Could’ve been Xabi Alonso from about 60 yards—and fair game, had Villa still had Carson between the posts, it might’ve crept in. As it was, Friedel had enough time to move his zimmer frame to the right position to make the save.
At half time I suddenly remembered I had some paint drying at home, so I left the pub certain that when I’d check the result later, I’d be punished for my folly. Both teams would return from the half-time bollicking with burst eardrums and blood dribbling down from their ear tunnels, and attack with the kind of verve that would make Keegan’s Newcastle from early 90s look like the Greek national side. Goals of the highest quality would fly in at both ends, and Liverpool would just nick the uber exciting second half, with Keane and Babel both scoring hat-tricks.
Instead, challenging all the laws of metaphysics—but working admirably towards the same goal—both teams had managed to maintain the same high level of tedium on the second half. It’s a game of two halves my hairy rear.