Liverpool hope resting on Andy Carroll

Believe it or not, Andy Carroll actually played 44 games for Liverpool after his 35 million pound move, scoring just 6 goals. But his biggest game for them actually comes this weekend as West Ham travel to Manchester City.

The Reds need West Ham to win, and it could be the big Geordie's chance to prove that he was good enough for a top 4 team, just the timing was all wrong.

It wasn't Carroll's fault that Kenny Dalglish wanted to spend the money on him, and I'm sure Newcastle just threw that number out to see what Liverpool's starting point was.

But what are the chances of West Ham actually getting a result at the Etihad? They have conceded 12 goals in 3 games against City this year, have nothing to play for (apart from trying to finish 12th), can't keep the ball, and are facing a team that has scored 100 league goals this year.City have won 16 of their 8 league games at home, losing only to Chelsea, and West Ham have only won 4 and scored 15 goals away from home all season.

QPR almost beat City two years ago on the final day, but they know how to win the league now, are in great form and know that one goal will probably be enough to win it.

Liverpool have to hope that West Ham can keep it tight, reach half-time at 0-0 and then nick one with 15 or less to go - and maybe it's time for Andy Carroll to show Liverpool what he was really worth.

Palace, You Really Got Me Now, You Got Me So I Don’t Know What I’m Doing

Geography should dictate sports allegiances. Unless you’re from Alaska or your dad is playing professionally somewhere out of town, I’ve always believed the team near your house is the team you root for and you never, ever stray. Exclamation point.

But as my infatuation for the non-American football grew last year, I faced a quandary. As much as I adhere to the strict guidelines of geography, and as entertaining as this thing called Major League Soccer can be, the product on the pitch isn't good enough to sustain me. Tim Cahill can score four seconds into a game and it won't matter: My heart won't ever be into the New York Red Bulls.

Once NBC locked up its lavish TV contract to ping top-flight English football to U.S. televisions and computers, my quandary became simpler and didn’t involve geography: Which Premier League team would I pick?

Manchester United was immediately eliminated, because when you root for the New York Yankees, you can't root for another New York Yankees. I quickly tossed out other favorites like Chelsea, Liverpool, Arsenal and especially Tottenham, as I didn't want to be the rookie at the bar denying the charges of bandwagon jumping when I still couldn't identify an offside without a slow-motion replay.

Then it came to me that the purest entry into Premier League fandom was to pick one of the three promoted teams. Eventually I settled on a team with a long absence from the top flight and a history of financial insolvency, one that needed a dramatic injury time penalty to secure the third promotion spot from the Championship last year - Crystal Palace. I realized most people didn't give them much of a chance to stay up, but that would be the fun of it, right?

Then the season started, and the losses piled up, and it became quickly evident that a team with zero goal-scoring problems in the lower league had the tendency to score zero goals in the higher one. It didn't help that their most prolific scorer from the prior campaign was still out injured, and their second most prolific was wallowing on the Man U bench. I’d invite friends out to bars to watch early, and the games would be over early.

Through the losing, I worried my allegiance would fade. I wasn't born rooting for these guys. I wasn't sure they'd pass the same litmus test that my beloved but flawed New York Knicks passed the time I saw them play basketball against the now-local Brooklyn Nets. It never even crossed my mind that I’d desert the Knicks.

With Palace, it did cross my mind. I did think of leaving. Would I stay with them if they got relegated and their games weren’t on TV anymore? The early losing led to a managerial change, and while they picked up a few wins, they stayed in the drop zone and subconsciously, I gave them until the New Year to keep me.

But deeper in my subconscious, I found myself getting to know the players: I wondered why they’d always pick the speedy Cameron Jerome as striker, even though he was the clumsiest finisher I've seen in the entire league. Why weren't they playing young and talented Dwight Gayle more often? Was defender Joel Ward really happy with his sudden move to midfield? Did Glenn Murray just Tweet that he’s coming back from his knee injury soon??!! I was starting to care about this team from South London like they played right around the corner.

On Boxing Day, Gayle curled in an injury-time beauty from just outside the box to break a 0-0 tie at Aston Villa, and I screamed in joy. A poor quality game had, to me, become the most thrilling and beautiful match in the history of sport(s). Something was happening. I wasn’t going to relegate them for New Year’s.

Out of the drop zone but close enough where it was still a real possibility, Palace took the pitch at Selhurst Park three Saturdays ago to play Chelsea. In my wildest fantasy, the Eagles would somehow coax a draw out of the first-place team, en route to barely surviving relegation.

But early in the second half of a 0-0 game, Chelsea captain John Terry headed the ball into his own goal while trying to head it out of harm’s way. My phone lit up with texts. “Palace leads,” said one. “Holy shit,” said another. I watched on my phone as the final seconds of injury time ticked off and Selhurst Park lost its shit. I had chills. This was my team doing this. My boys.

Two weeks ago, Palace played its most thorough game of the year, winning 3-0 away at Cardiff and getting to 34 points for the season. Another win this weekend over Villa took them just three points shy of the magical 40-point barrier that usually marks staying up, but things look good. 

Palace has me by the balls and I’d follow them to the Championship and, God forbid, I’d follow them to League One if I had to. All I know is that it's far more exciting than watching this year's Knicks - and you get to drink at 10am!

- Joe Checkler

Follow him at @JoeCheckler

Tight at the top, but Arsenal are done if they lose

If Arsenal lost at Chelsea, you have to think they are out of the title race. They would be 7 points behind with 8 games left - yes they have a game in hand, but they'd probably have to win all 8 to even have a chance of finishing above Chelsea, Liverpool and Manchester City. They could finish 2nd, but overcoming all 3 rivals at this point will be tough anyway.

Arsene Wenger is desperate to end the trophy drought, but the FA Cup is looking like the more realistic option. And perhaps that is what Arsenal have lacked - options. Giroud has been out of form, and Walcott out injured - without them (or Ramsey's goals from midfield), Arsenal have struggled. I am just not sure they have enough options to mix it up should they go behind. But here's a game that they have to go for it if they go behind. There is really nothing to lose if they go down 2-0, 3-0 or 5-0 - some pride maybe, but Spurs, Everton and Manchester United aren't catching them for 4th.

As for Chelsea, a draw isn't terrible, but they are still in Europe and will be confident of progressing against PSG in the quarterfinals of the Champions League - although why anyone is confident of beating a team with Zlatan in is beyond me. Chelsea are getting old and slow at the back, but they have more than enough going forward to exploit some of Arsenal's weaknesses (and yes, I do mean Mikel Arteta in the defensive midfield role).

Manchester City have a tough week coming up, with United and then Arsenal to come - failing to beat Fulham should mean they don't win the league. Fulham have been awful all season, and City should be beating them 4-0 or more.

Liverpool have to win away at Cardiff and home to Sunderland in midweek if they are to realistically compete. Two of the league's bottom three have to be dispatched if Brendan Rodgers' team expect to win the title.

It's an interesting weekend at the top - no one can afford to lose, but if Arsenal do, we may be down to a 3 horse race. If any of the others lose (and Arsenal don't) they have to be right in the mix. The top is getting as interesting as the bottom - and I'm willing to hear all schoolboy jokes on that!

Lots of reasons to love the Europa League

There are 3 qualifying rounds (starting in early July), a playoff round, 12 groups of 4, a knockout stage involving 32 teams all head of a final in May - which this year takes place at Juventus' stadium.

Welcome to UEFA's Europa League.

It seems like a lot of games, but having replaced the UEFA Cup and the Cup Winners Cup, you'd have to expect that there would be an avenue for every country in Europe to be able to field a side in European club competition.

And nobody expects the teams from Andorra or San Marino to make the group stages, let alone the knockout stages. But they are entitled to get their chance.

Having played with pros who represented Wales playing for Total Network Solutions (now TNS or The New Saints), they have told me of how great the experience was, how it was their only chance to really play in big stadiums against really good, even great, players.

And it's not just great for the players, the clubs and fans get to see sides they would otherwise never face - a trip to Croatia, a Thursday night in Bilbao or a long weekend in Latvia, all sound great. I'm not saying Manchester United fans get bored of playing Barcelona or Bayern Munich, but the Champions League has become a little repetitive. And the way they're going, United may even jump at the chance of the Europa League next year!

People say Jermain Defoe loves the competition. But let's be harsh/critical/honest here - it's one of the only chances he gets to play a whole game. There are the FA Cup games, League Cup and a few substitute appearances, but not too much more these days. The Europa League gives bigger teams the chance to try out their youngsters, rehab players from injuries and get people back into form.

It's not a reserves league though. The competition is strong, with Porto, Atletico Madrid (twice) and Chelsea winning the tournament - I'm sure players like Falcao and Fernando Torres appreciate it and display the medals - and you know Rafa Benitez does.

It doesn't get the respects it deserves, and maybe the Thursday night takes its toll on teams for the following weekend, but it's interesting, compelling and exciting European football.

If only I could find somewhere to watch it!

We are all Liverpool fans again

I’m a Liverpool fan. Again. Why? Because we’re  a couple of goals allowed from the top of the table. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a sunshine boy.  A fair-weather fan.  I only watch when we’re winning, and I only sing when they print the words to the songs on a karaoke feed.  Well, you’re right. And you wish you were one, too. Admit it.  That way, instead of spending the last 25 years hoping, in vain, that Everton would return to their Andy heyday or pretending that Aston Villa had never Peter Withered, you could have been sneakily watching Manchester United or Arsenal play some decent football.

Why is it considered such a footballing sin to pick winners?

Would thousands follow Novak Djokovic down to Court #25 if he put in five rubbish seasons in a row?  Do golf fans studiously avoid Rory McIlroy so they don’t miss a shot from onetime great Bernhard Langer in the group ahead?

I first became a Liverpool fan around 1982. I was conflicted from the start; my cousin Phil made me renounce QPR, who my Dad and I had picked out of the league table at random.

I was just in time for the first reign of Ian Rush. I wasn’t allowed watch telly on Saturday afternoons so I mostly experienced the exploits of Mustacheses II through my classmates’ postgame bragging.  Rush was so great that for years I thought strikers were shit if they only scored once a game. The only time I watched the Reds play before Kenny Dalglish took over as scowler-in-chief was the 1984 European Cup Final against Roma.  This game taught me the turgidity law: the more you look forward to a match, the more boring it usually is.

Mid Dalglish was my Liverpool period.  My mum relaxed the Saturday rule between 1987 and 1989, and I gradually fell for Bruce Grobelaar, Peter Beardsley, John Barnes, Craig Johnston, John Aldridge (Mustacheses III), Kenny Dalglish (with his hybrid player-manager tracksuit-overcoat, always ready to Special Guest Star in a game, and still useful at 5 mph) and, yes, even Gary Ablett.  For a couple of years, I understood why the word fan was short for fanatic.  I loved this team, and I deluded myself that they were reciprocating this love by beating almost everyone twice a year. These were the years when Liverpool fans felt unlucky to narrowly miss out on League-Cup doubles.

It felt like the beginning of a thousand-year Reich. My classmates talked about the team missing Rush, but, as far as I was concerned, Aldridge was just as good – from his mustache down to his first touch. Of course, I made this judgement without seeing Rush play. But Aldridge could score at will.  He could never reprise his Liverpool form for Ireland, but have you ever seen the clip where the linesman stalled him on the sidelines while Jackie Charlton was trying to throw him on as a sub during a group game against Mexico at the 94 World Cup?   Aldo, one of the world’s most unflappable players, got into a flap. When he finally got on the field, I knew he was going to score. Sure enough, he sprinted up field a few moments later and almost headered the ball through the net.  He could score at will.
I felt somewhat conflicted when Rush returned to take back the mustachioed striker role. But I kept faith with my team.  

Until that team disappeared. In ’91, Dalglish quit, and Graeme Souness took over.  Souness’s first act was to sack half of my favourite players. Liverpool clearly didn’t love me any more.
The only thing Souness, Moustacheses I, had in common with Dalglish was being an ex-great Liverpool and Scotland international player from Glasgow. OK, that’s a fair amount. But Souness was the Drago to Dalglish’s Rocky. The man was a brute. Anyone who saw the legbreaking tackle he committed for Rangers as I did (on Saint and Greavesie, where sunshine fans went to get their 30 minutes of football a week) could never love Souness.  Halfway through that season, Liverpool and I broke up.

For a couple of years, I was a closet Blackburn fan.  In three years, Shearer and Dalglish took them from 19^th in the second division to premiership champions.  Nobody’s done it since.

Then I thought I’d go the Sleeping Giant route. Sleeping Giant fandom is more romantic than Sunshine Boy fandom.  Some football fans believe there is more honour in supporting their team when it’s shit. I spoke to a Boca Juniors fan once who scoffed at the league-leading season the club was enjoying. ”Two years ago, we lost every single league game at home. Every. Single. Game. And it was packed. Every week. And everyone sang, at the top of their voices. That’s Boca,” he said, sounding like a doting father.

I chose Wolverhampton Wanderers, the Wolves. They had a great chant (“We are Wolves, We are Wolves, We are Wolves” repeat x infinity, really fast); a great striker (Steve Bull, who could score hat tricks at will), and, most importantly, an illustrious history (they had won just as many league-cup doubles as Liverpool, and more than Man United at the time). 

But the Giant Wolves never really woke up. They were always tipped for promotion into the premiership, but very seldom made it. Even when they did make it, they immediately ruled themselves out of contention and started flirting with relegation.  They never even had a cup run to speak of.  Non-league Stevenage had cup runs to speak of.  Plus, pre-Internet, to find out what Wolves were doing took a lot of work. I told people I followed Wolves but then couldn’t name any of their players. It was embarrassing for both of us. Our relationship was going nowhere.

I spent several years unattached, just following games that I thought would be decent.  I was happy.
I signed on as a Liverpool fan again for a day in 2005.  One of the other Geezer contributors and I watched the European Cup final at a mate’s house. We almost switched the channel at half time, but after Liverpool got their first one back, I had the same feeling about Stevie G as I had once had about Aldridge in that Mexico game. Milan had been too cocky, and Gerrard was up for it.  Only the greats can carry a big game on their shoulders like that.  

You see it in games on the green in the housing estate, where one player just pushes their quality to a higher plane than everyone else  on the field. You seldom see it in a professional game and never in a big final. Pity Gerrard gets shirty about not getting his Phil Collins requests played, and apparently once chanted his own name like a scouse cuckoo…but you have to separate the artist from their art.
Luis Suarez seems to be that kind of great.  The much hyped “double threat” of him and Sturridge seems to be living up to the hype. And Brendan Rodgers seems to genuinely want a bit of style.  

I’m falling in love with Liverpool again. But if they start wasting leads against West Brom and fecking around in fifth place again, it’s off.

-Rob Curran