An Open Letter to Liverpool FC

Dear Liverpool

How long must I stare down the throat of a demon, whose sole purpose is to devour all positive thought. For too long I have been stood at the edge of a precipice hoping, wishing that I will not fall from the summit and into the abyss.

While you may seem to enjoy living on the edge, I do not – especially when you find yourself sky diving without a parachute, the free-fall only leads to an inevitable outcome.

Week in-week out, hard earned money is poured into the club via the sale of merchandise and match tickets. However, week in-week out we face the gruelling task of having to justify the money wasted on such products.

Our scarfs for example – once a symbol of unity that would be held high as thousands sung their battle cry. Now, though, as hope begins to fade and faith slowly diminish, the once iconic symbol has become just another piece of clothing doomed to serve out its only purpose; warmth.

As a fan, I have conceded to the fact that I have no say or idea over what happens inside of the club. Regardless, they say that the walls have ears and bare witness to everything. I imagine that recently, the walls have found their voices as whispers mockingly reverberate down the hallways, as if to welcome back the Don Welsh years.

I do not demand wins, nor do I demand silverware. What I do expect though, is a certain level of commitment shown by all those involved. The owners for one; imagine Liverpool FC is a house on a private road occupied by five or six other houses. In the past, we would have furnished and renovated this house regularly – this would see the house stand tall among the other houses. A beautiful cottage that is easily distinguished from the smaller shacks.

Now, Imagine that we had decided to stop building while the other houses begin to renovate. Pretty soon, their little shacks would have turned into glowing mansions while we look out of our stained glass windows and say ‘well, at least we had the nicest house a few decades ago’.

If the current situation of the club doesn’t outline the need to invest, then frankly we should face facts and realise we are doomed.

I once heard a rumour that Rafa Benitez sold his SEAT and purchased an Alfa Romeo. The only problem was, the Alfa Romeo needed new body work after being in a crash. After the body work was completed, he was too scared to ever drive it, so it sat in his garage while he drove around in a Puma; A Brazilian car that never set the world alight in terms of design. When Rafa left, Roy Hodgson decided that this model of car wasn’t for him and thus, leant it to a friend. These are simply the type of purchases we cannot afford.

As things currently stand, Fernando Torres should feel more like Atlas; a titan who literally bares the weight of the world on his shoulders. Too much expectation is put on our number 9. The whole ‘let’s give the ball to Torres’ idea is flawed. If he is man marked or injured, we just cannot score. So another striker of true quality – and I don’t mean another Kuyt or Ngog - is sorely needed.

I’m not the type to call for a new manager, and I strongly believe that Roy Hodgson is doing the best he can, but it deeply upsets me that a club that is clearly struggling on the pitch would allow such a serious lack of managerial skill to continue.

The players themselves are also guilty. They need reminding that regardless of what they think, they play for us. We help pay the wages do we not? I’m tired of watching certain players mope around the pitch as if they are navigating through a sea of syrup. For what they earn – which is ludicrous in itself – I expect them to play to the best of their abilities and not feel sorry for themselves. Take me for example, I earn less in a year than a first team player earns in a week. While this makes me sick to the core of my stomach, I still do the work that I am paid to do. The difference is though, I would kill to play football for a living regardless of a high wage or not.

Simply put, the need for action and investment is now, and with haste. It’s better to cross a road when it is quiet, than it is waiting until rush hour. We have become the proverbial tortoise in this race. Only we find ourselves racing against more than one hare. If the club continues to act slowly on all fronts, we will ultimately continue to slip down this steep, slippery slope and get left behind.

But know this; should a long demise be what the Gods have in store for us, I will still continue to drink from my cup, still continue to don my jersey n scarf and I, no matter what, will never walk alone.

Yours faithfully

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