I would like to congratulate Liverpool on winning their first ever Premier league title and their first league victory in a generation. Their fans will undoubtedly cherish the victory, as they won in the season Manchester United fell dramatically from their pedestal. It is to United's credit that they gave way so quickly after Alex Ferguson's exit, retiring to the mid-table without any fuss or delay. Many of you are unaware of the fact, but when I was a sporting lad in my teens, I was an avid Manchester United fan. Perhaps it was the influence of friends that made me support them, or perhaps it was the noble spirit I felt pervaded the team. Perhaps it was this song. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact they won so much silverware.
For those who are unfamiliar with English football, please allow me to explain. For a long time, Liverpool FC was the belle of the ball, winning trophies galore. In the 1990s, after a couple of decades of supremacy, Manchester United usurped their tiara and dominated English football. They were seemingly unbeatable with the help of their fairy godmother Sir Alex Ferguson. Liverpool could not tolerate United's success and watched helplessly as she eventually overtook her place as the most beautiful belle of all time. Liverpool fans took a relieved delight in watching United occasionally come second, first to Blackburn (a meretricious, flash-in-the-pan stunner, who quickly succumbed to obesity and old age) then, briefly, to Arsenal (the belle with the winning personality, whose fans are like martyrs). Eventually, two real challengers came along: Chelsea (plausibly a girl's name, especially if she's from California) and Manchester City (plausibly a girl's name, especially if she's from California). Both had been average girls, but they were beautified by cosmetic surgery, paid for by their rich Russian and Saudi Arabian daddies. Manchester United could still fend off these younger models, however, much like a 40-year-old who keeps in great shape through yoga. Liverpool, in recent year, has transformed so much, it is as though the mother has been replaced by her nubile daughter (after all, it has been a generation). Other contenders include Everton and Tottenham Hotspurs, who are perennial also-rans. Their supporters are like loyal partners, who perfunctorily tell them they think they are beautiful even though its clearly not true.
Liverpool have walked alone through a difficult 24 years. A team with such a heritage was inevitably going to return to glory, even though they took the long route. Let us not forget the fallen soldiers, who toiled in times short of glory. Their hands grasped haplessly for silverware and got little more than the Coca Cola Cup (back when it was called that). Remember Phil Babb, Steve MacManaman, Robbie Fowler, John Scales, Steve Nicol, Jan Mølby, Steve Harkness, Stan Collymore, David James, Neil Ruddock, Lee Jones, Jason McAteer, and Jamie Redknapp. Great losers one and all. Despite being a former United fan, it is only right I also salute their current, victorious team. I would never want to spitefully take pleasure in the dominating team losing, especially when it bears little relevance to my non-existent title contentions. I would never want to rattle on for years about past glories or how the dominant team deserve their defeat. Now that… that would be sad.
For those who are unfamiliar with English football, please allow me to explain. For a long time, Liverpool FC was the belle of the ball, winning trophies galore. In the 1990s, after a couple of decades of supremacy, Manchester United usurped their tiara and dominated English football. They were seemingly unbeatable with the help of their fairy godmother Sir Alex Ferguson. Liverpool could not tolerate United's success and watched helplessly as she eventually overtook her place as the most beautiful belle of all time. Liverpool fans took a relieved delight in watching United occasionally come second, first to Blackburn (a meretricious, flash-in-the-pan stunner, who quickly succumbed to obesity and old age) then, briefly, to Arsenal (the belle with the winning personality, whose fans are like martyrs). Eventually, two real challengers came along: Chelsea (plausibly a girl's name, especially if she's from California) and Manchester City (plausibly a girl's name, especially if she's from California). Both had been average girls, but they were beautified by cosmetic surgery, paid for by their rich Russian and Saudi Arabian daddies. Manchester United could still fend off these younger models, however, much like a 40-year-old who keeps in great shape through yoga. Liverpool, in recent year, has transformed so much, it is as though the mother has been replaced by her nubile daughter (after all, it has been a generation). Other contenders include Everton and Tottenham Hotspurs, who are perennial also-rans. Their supporters are like loyal partners, who perfunctorily tell them they think they are beautiful even though its clearly not true.
Liverpool have walked alone through a difficult 24 years. A team with such a heritage was inevitably going to return to glory, even though they took the long route. Let us not forget the fallen soldiers, who toiled in times short of glory. Their hands grasped haplessly for silverware and got little more than the Coca Cola Cup (back when it was called that). Remember Phil Babb, Steve MacManaman, Robbie Fowler, John Scales, Steve Nicol, Jan Mølby, Steve Harkness, Stan Collymore, David James, Neil Ruddock, Lee Jones, Jason McAteer, and Jamie Redknapp. Great losers one and all. Despite being a former United fan, it is only right I also salute their current, victorious team. I would never want to spitefully take pleasure in the dominating team losing, especially when it bears little relevance to my non-existent title contentions. I would never want to rattle on for years about past glories or how the dominant team deserve their defeat. Now that… that would be sad.
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