Another Red Letter Day

There was a muted atmosphere inside the ground on Sunday, almost as if people were still recovering from their vocal exertions on Tuesday night.
At times, the silence was deafening and it needed a few moments of magic from our captain, and an inept refeering display, to awake us from our stupour.
The first 45 was pretty much a non-event aside for a couple of strong penalty shouts, both involving Gerrard.
They were at the wrong end of the ground for me, and I’ve not managed to see any TV replays yet, so I can only go on what I saw from my view from the Kop.
The first, near the touchline, involved Gerrard clashing with Friedel. It seemed a decent shout, but I can’t say that with any certainty, and from what fans have told me, the ref might have got it right.
The second incident, which left Gerrard beating the ground in frustration, looked more clear cut, although it was outside the area according to some fans.
It seemed a blatant barge from their centre half as Stevie rampaged through after reaching the ball first with his head.

I might as well stay with the spot kick theme, as Gerrard was again in the thick of it in the second half.
With a much better view, the one in front of the Kop seemed the best shout of the lot.
Generally, ref Alan Wiley had a shocker, he couldn’t have got more decisions wrong for both sides if he tried.
For them, it looked like Skrtel was lucky to escape with a yellow, Roberts seemed to have done him and would have been clear on goal.
Gerrard takes a bit of stick from opposition fans about going own in the box, but I wouldn’t say he’s a diver.
Not many other players drive into the opposition area with such speed and venom as him, so it only takes one slight misplaced nudge or stray leg to send him tumbling.
He’s definitely cute with it, if there’s a flailing challenge put in, he knows how to take the tackle after pushing the ball past it, but he’s not a diver.
Those bursts can be impossible to defend against sometimes, the first goal being a case in point.
Samba could have quite easily have baulked him or hauled him down, but he sensibly stuck to the rules.
It was a stunning move by Gerrard, picking his way through a mass defence in the way that only he can.

Second goal, Torres redeemed himself for a rare poor display with a classic centre forwards header, back across Friedel.
The assist man? Gerrard again. A brilliant cross. There you go, put me in the back of the net please.
It almost descended into the realms of fantasy late on, with the much maligned Voronin getting on the scoresheet.
It said something that the act of scorng from three yards left him with a pulled hamstring, and he limped back to the centre circle, barely a smile on his face.
That's his wife in the picture above by the way.
His Liverpool adventure has not exactly gone to plan, but it’s difficult to take that huge bulk seriously at times.
Then again, porno gags from perrenial wannabe comedian Mark Lawrenson must get a little tiresome for him.

Elsewhere, there were some pretty ordinary performaces. I thought Kuyt was decent again, but Lucas should have been hauled off way before the end.
I think people are getting a little carried away with this lad, he’s been anonymous for a while now, but admittedly he’s young and has potential.
Babel continued to frustrate on the wing, and Benayoun made a decent argument for a starting place in the next game.
We seemed altogether brighter and more positive when he came on, and he has an ability to make things happen.

On the terraces, there was a general hush around the stadium, and it was only Wiley that gave us something to shout about.
Even Blackburn didn’t antagonise that much, some tame shouts of ‘Where’s your famous atmosphere’ about as much as they could muster.
The fact that they were singing that before the game kicked off was lost on those lovable Lankys.
No doubt we’re set for a week of behind the scenes in-fighting at Anfield, Rafa’s post match interview showed him quietly bristling after it emerged that both Gillett and Parry were also implicated in Klinsman-gate.
There’s a worrying feeling that something, or someone has got to give.