Last night's result against City was like a sucker punch. Being 7 points behind manure now means we need manure to lose 3 games including the one against us in March. Even two losses and one draw on their part is sufficient for us. Provided we win all our remaining matches. Mathematically speaking of course.
But we all know this kind of calculation can be all nonsense in the end and we might suffer from more heartbreaks. Because then we will always be hoping that we win all our remaining games and if we don't, we will be heartbroken. It also means that we will also always be hoping for manure to start losing games and everytime they don't, we get more heartbreaks.
We will all rue the many games we were held to a draw by lesser teams this season. In fact, it was almost similar last season. And we will be reminded again and again that in two games, losing one game and winning another is 3 points while not losing both but drawing both is only 2 points.
The easier way is to stop hoping altogether. But the problem would be whether the remaining games will be enjoyable enough. Especially when knowing we could not stop manure from winning the title when we could have. After all, any other team except manure.
For me personally, it would be a bonus if we do win the title this season. Like other fans, I will still root for us to win all the remaining matches. If it is fated that we lose the title by a single point to manure, it will definitely be a bitter pill to swallow. I have already planned to exercise a media blackout if that were to happen.
Today, since I knew I will be spending the whole workday in the fields, I went in a Liverpool T-shirt with the biggest Liverbird on its chest. Each time the hundreds of manure supporters (Chelsea and Arsenal supporters are a wee bit quieter nowadays) asked something about last night's game, I thumped the Liverbird while uttering 'Win, lose or draw, I will never walk alone!' That shut a few mouths right away.
This is the last stanza from 'To Hope' by John Keats:
And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!