Liverpool’s Big Nap at Craven Cottage…
In a football spectacle less thrilling than watching paint dry, Roy Keane and Micah Richards delivered a verbal roasting to Liverpool, who stumbled onto Craven Cottage like guests at a slumber party gone wrong. Instead of roaring like lions, they were more like sleepy kittens pawing at invisible yarn. Fulham feasted on the disoriented Reds, going 3-1 up before half-time, making anyone question if Liverpool thought they were in a cozy, pre-season snooze-fest.
Liverpool had dreams of leaving Arsenal clinging to the table by time the Premier League movers arrived, but their plans were like poorly built flat-pack furniture—falling apart before your very eyes. As Fulham strutted around the pitch like proud peacocks, Marco Silva’s squad made mincemeat of Liverpool’s shaky defence, which was sagging faster than an over-pumped football left in the sun. Keane, channeling his inner soccer Gandalf, declared Liverpool’s body language as blah as a mid-table team off-season.
The woeful Reds were about as in sync as synchronized swimmers in different oceans, with passes going astray like uncooked spaghetti thrown at a wall. Their famous press was as light as a feather stuck in a vacuum and despite having apparently signed a defensive pact with the gods, Fulham found spaces so large you could drive a double-decker bus through their backline. Meanwhile, Fulham gleefully cartwheeled into European football caching hopes, leaving Liverpool sheepishly returning to the drawing board.
