The Klopp era is firmly upon Liverpool. The man has astonishingly done it without any of the side’s players being his. Klopp’s brand of raw emotion, of wearing his heart out on his sleeve, of living and dying with every touch of the ball, makes every match a Shakespearean experience. Today, it paid off, in one of the most moving of all comebacks in recent times. A very selective reading and heavily edited version of ” I have a dream” to ” I have climbed the mountaintop” would not seem out of place. The reality is Liverpool’s squad wear clogs whereas their opposition affixes Mercury’s wings to their boots. The only player who could dream of being on the Dortmund team would be Phillipe Coutinho, and that too from the bench. There is a stunning quality deficit but this evening all those overripe bromides of “bottle” and “it ain’t over till the fat lady sings” won the day.
Anfield was the perfect stage, emotionally intense, on the eve of the anniversary of the Hillsborough tragedy, with both clubs paying homage. It began badly, very early, as Liverpool were made to pay with Dortmund pouncing with lightning speed on Coutinho’s blunder as Henrikh Mkhitaryan converted on Simone’s Mignolet superb reflexive parry falling at his feet after saving Pierre Emerick Aubameyang’s crashing volley. Nine minutes later, Aubameyang finished off Marco Reus’s threaded pass. Dortmund as predicted by their coach, Tom Tuchel had drawn first and second blood. The contest was running away from Liverpool.
Marcus Rashford and Alex Iwobi maybe drawing all the press, but Liverpool’s young gun Divock Origi has quietly been scoring crucial goals, including the all important away strike at Westfaledstadion in the first leg. The 20 year old struck at the right time to bring back belief finishing off Emre Can’s through pass which split the Dortmund defence just after resumption of the second half. Origi is a Danny Welbeck in his tireless running, pace, propensity for creating half chances, with the added distinction of actually finishing them off. Dortmund sensing a shift, managed to shush the crowds with Marco Reus catapulting the German side to a 3-1 lead.
The math was bad, or baldly stated Liverpool conjuring three more goals in about half an hour with the caveat of no other goals conceded would be Fermat’s theorem, impossible to solve. But Klopp is meshuge, and the team believes in his schmaltz, which is why Liverpool never gave up. Coutinho reeling off the first with a cool finish after exchanging passes with Milner. An enervated Dortmund were fraying piece by piece as if a peeling wall and it was befitting the most blighted individuals proved to be their Trojan horse. Mamadou Sakho and Dejan Lovren, Liverpool’s asymptotes. The former administering the equalizer with a header near post from a corner and the latter in extra time, climbing over a slovenly defence, to meet James Milner’s cross and heist the win.
There was no need for gloating, or gamesmanship, only the acknowledgment this was history in the making, an exposition of gripping, electric football. The best teams are the ones willing to take chances, in coaching, in players, in tactics, in passion, in belief in their fans. Both sides have this history, despite the uncertainty, of a sense of forward progression. There are others with their coaches transformed into glorified accountants justifying the status quo of stagnancy on meeting shareholder’s stock prices and sounding the klaxon of a slide into a bottomless abyss without them. That is a Klopp out. A Hillary over a Bernie.
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