There are only so many times I can say "Rock Bottom" or "Last Straw" or "Jiminy Gillikers" before the words lose all meaning. There are only so many times where I can be sure that today was the day that the axe fell. I'm like Calvin waiting for his propeller beanie to come in the mail, waking up every morning and hoping to sign on to Soccernet to see that Hodgson has been canned. And it never happens. I'm just running out of things to say.
I don't know how it can be any clearer that a team has quit on its coach. I've seen it in other sports, and this is what it looks like. Players just floating through games, not carrying out any sort of plan whatsoever. Not putting in the required effort to even look competent. Glen Johnson stopped caring long ago, especially in his own end. He has a major hand in the first and third goal, especially in the first where he didn't challenge Diouf (the good one) and then didn't track Olson either. He and Skrtel did a fine Frick and Frack impression in the corner for the third. His runs forward pretty much consist of just running to the byline and having a cross blocked.
Fernando Torres stopped caring long ago. And well he should. He gets no service, is asked to basically hold up hacked clearances, and his runs are so rarely rewarded with a pass. It's been such a horrific year, the money we could have grabbed for him to rebuild the entire squad is lowering by the day.
Joe Cole is here to cash a check.
Kyrgiakos simply can't play. Usually I make a face when a player comes out in the press with a "play me or I'm leaving" declaration. But Daniel Agger is completely within his rights. If I had to sit and watch that Greek dunderhead thrash about the pitch when I'm clearly the better player, well, I would get stabby.
I actually think this might be Steven Gerrard's most heroic season. He's played far too deep, is surrounded by either the uncaring or the merely incompetent, all organized by a muppet. And yet he fights back from injury and tries everything he can to pull this team out of it. He clearly loves the club and is heartbroken by what it has become. God help us when he chucks in the towel, and that's coming.
Sunday has to be Waterloo. Except Napoleon had accomplished a lot before Waterloo. So maybe this is when Emerald City has its prison riot in Oz's first season, or something. Come up with your own metaphor, I'm so tired.