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NOTE: This is a work of humour and is not meant to hurt or disrespect anyone. Read with a pinch of salt.
It’s the biggest rivalry in club football.
It’s the battle of the giants.
It’s the fixture of the season.
Yeah, I’m talking about the once-upon-a-time taglines of the Manchester United-versus-Liverpool matches. But if you are to believe a certain Daniel Sturridge, such days are not history. “In the Premier League, there is no bigger club than Liverpool”, he reveals with a straight face. This ground-breaking announcement has left all the Premier League clubs, and especially Liverpool, shocked. Understandably, no one from Liverpool Football Club was available for comment. While Brendan Rodgers was pictured to be making wild apologetic gestures, with a little frightful jump now and then, while talking on the phone with someone (“It’s that Whiskey Nose!”), Steven Gerrard was caught pondering in front of his Orkut account whether or not to submit his “I knew it!! This is our year!!” post. But everywhere else, the good people of Liverpool engaged themselves in boisterous celebrations followed by highly competitive shopliftings. “You are that porridge we stole, you’re our Sturridge a*****e” was the song on everybody’s lips. Liverpool had found a new hero.
Unable to find anymore sane people in Liverpool and having lost a couple of pens and a notepad, the journos quickly made their way to Manchester. At the entrance of Carrington, they spotted Mike Phelan pacing up and down furiously. He spotted the journos as they approached nearer but the expression in his face changed from desperate hope to extreme terror. “DOCTORS?! YOU AIN’T DOCTORS! I CALLED DOCTORS! NO DOCTORS HERE TODAY! CALL DOCTORS! QUICKLY!” he shouted hysterically and with hands over his head and looking around with bloodshot eyes, he ran away into the streets. The journos were taken aback. Nonetheless, they made their way inside the complex and in the middle of the ground, they found Sir Alex.
Sir Alex had seen it all. He had looked up at Liverpool when they were on their perch, he had competed with them and brought Manchester United up to their perch and finally he had knocked Liverpool “off their f*****g perch.” But even he was shell-shocked to hear about this sudden rise of Liverpool. “I can’t believe it! They’re s**t when you sleep and when you wake up, they’re the best damn club in the League! I can’t believe it! Football, bloody hell!” When asked another question, he started tapping his watch vigorously, promptly walked away and started shouting at every player he could find. Everyone picked up a gear or two in their training in an instant.
Isolated from the rest, Nemanja Vidic and Patrice Evra were training together. Nemanja wasn’t smiling and that scared all the journos. Warily, they moved closer. “Hello Nemanja!” No response. “Erm, could we ask you a few questions?” Then he spoke. But it wasn’t his usual calming voice, nor did he look at them. He spoke in a robotic monologue without taking a break from his training. “…he..is..dead..man…kill..porridge…dead..sturridge…drink..blood…”
“Who da man? Evra da man!”
The journos turned pale. Patrice Evra took the frightened journos away from Nemanja and tried to calm them down. “Look, I know you people are just doing your job but you gotta understand. This is a big match now. Till last night, we were training how we usually train for Liverpool. You know, a bit of laughter, some running and mostly goofing around and relaxing. But everything’s changed overnight. Alex Ferguson wakes us up at 4 am and drags us to the ground to train. He says Liverpool have powered up overnight. I say that’s bulls**t but he doesn’t listen. He has even drawn us a scary training schedule and if one doesn’t keep up with it, he starts with his hairdryer. He has recorded his hairdryer in a tape and plays it when we get slow. This is crazy here. Giggsy says that this was the kind of schedule and hairdryer they had back in the 90s. It is hard-core. Nemanja has had no sleep and has heard that tape five times already this morning. Man’s pissed as hell dude. I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. So you get it right?” They nod their heads in silence. “Great! So tell me, what do you wanna know? Patrice Evra at your service!” He claps his hands gleefully and sits on a nearby chair.
The journos still look shaken. So Evra starts off. “Hey what’s up with the Liverpool boss Rodgers? He’s smoking or what? He says Suarez is Messi. I mean, I know that racist jackass, no offence, and I ain’t scared of him. Hell, I ain’t even scared of Ronaldo (“he’s my bitch ya’know!“, he winks) but saying Suarez is Messi just gives me the creeps. Something really weird is going over there in Liverpool. Messi…” He shivers at the thought of Messi and doesn’t regain focus until one journo asks him a question. “How come you are allowed to talk, Patrice? You haven’t been given a schedule?” He looks around warily and calls them closer. “Look this is between you and me alright? Swear you won’t tell anyone?” They all nod curiously. “It seems he wasn’t very happy when he called me up in the morning about Liverpool and I told him it’s bullshit. I mean, how is that my fault? I thought he was pulling my leg saying Liverpool are strong and all. Can you blame me? People wouldn’t believe that even if they were fully awake and I was half-asleep for Christ’s sake! But I think I pissed him off big-time. He hasn’t talked with me since. He was planning to sell me to PSG earlier but I think now he’s selling me to QPR. *The* Patrice Evra to QPR! Can you imagine that? Things are all crazy around here man, bats**t crazy.” He shakes his head and walks away.
As the journos were preparing to exit the training ground, they find Robin van Persie sitting in front of a laptop. As they try to go near him, Danny Welbeck runs towards them. “Don’t go near him”, he warns them. “He’s been sitting all morning in front of that laptop ever since the Manager showed him an article where Kenny Dalglish says Suarez is better than him. I think he has gone into coma or something. I told Mike Phelan about it but I haven’t seen him since. Wonder where he has gone. Okay, I’m gonna go now. You should go away as soon as you can. This place isn’t safe. Take care.” And he jogs away. The journos still weren’t convinced. They looked around to find someone else. From the mist in the far corner of the training complex, they saw Antonio Valencia running towards them. He had the same look as Nemanja Vidic. Those journos weren’t seen near Carrington again.
In light of recent developments in Anfield, Old Trafford and Daniel Sturridge’s brain, looks like this match may really prove to be the game of the season. There will be blood. And if we’re lucky, some football as well. Don’t miss it.
