So yeah... if sitting through years of Hodgson, and steadying the ship, and N'Gog, and utopia if we were to get a result at Goodison, and a midfield of Cole-Poulsen-Spearing-Jovanovic, and Paul Konchesky for three and a half million, and Dalglish, and 50M for Andy Carroll, and Downing whopping in crosses, and Torres wanting to leave, and Mascherano wanting to leave, and Reina wanting to leave, and Suarez wanting to leave, and coming 7th, and 8th, and scoring no goals, and playing utterly fucking shite football, and not filling the stadium, and having to endure those cunts winning their 18th, 19th, 20th title... Was the price, the indignity, and the endurance we had to somehow pay in order to get that fucking walking legend Brendan Rodgers into the club, then fuck me it was worth every horrible minute.
This is all Brendan Rodgers. From 7th, to the top of the league with the fucking thing in our hands. It's so amazing, yet I almost feel it's happening too fast. Why are we continually dicking sides - great sides too - 3, 4, & 5-0? Aren't we supposed to struggle to finish 4th? Aren't managers not supposed to make a difference? Don't we need some fucking hideous Ruskian petro-billionaire? Look at those scenes in the stands before the match. Look at how his players gravitate to him. Brendan Rodgers is a fucking legend.
Moment of the Match: John Flanagan running right through Lennon after about 2 minutes. Bang. Take that you wee eyebrow-shaving, looking-at-your-reflection-in-your-boots prancing cunt. Cos John Flanagan, our fucking 9th choice full-back at the start of the year has just emptied you. And you're the one getting dragged by your fucking makeweight manager in the second half 5 minutes after our 9th choice full-back fucking Cafu's his way 60 yards up the ground to set-up our 3rd.
I fucking love our football club.