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Crouch scores

Dave Bowler

12/08/05
 

It’s one of those “Where were you when they shot JFK?” moments. But finally, after 24 hours, none of which featured Kiefer Sutherland, Peter Crouch has finally scored a goal for Liverpool.

Initially, he was desperately claiming the club’s first goal in the 3-0 dismantling of Wigan Athletic, but his shot took more deflections than one of Lee Harvey Oswald’s magic bullets, ballooning up off a defender, looping into the air before goalkeeper Mike Pollitt leapt into the air and punched the ball into his own net.

The goal came more from behind a grassy Anfield knoll than from Crouch and the footballing equivalent of the Warren Commission – the dubious goal panel – ruled that it was an own goal against Pollitt.

Fortunately for the man who is at least as tall as the third storey of any book depository, not even Jim Garrison could question the veracity of the goal he scored just before the break to put Liverpool two up – though any budding Zapruder’s with film cameras in the crowd might suggest otherwise as time goes on.

Crouch left Anfield to a standing ovation as he had helped nudge his side into second place in the Premier League, though they were overtaken by a swaggering Manchester United side, intent on remembering George Best in the grand manner, later on Saturday afternoon.

At the moment, Liverpool are suddenly the form team in the division, and people are beginning to question whether Rafa Benitez has them set on the right course after all, copying much of the Mourinho blueprint. Liverpool have rebuilt their team from the back, adopting some pretty negative tactics as their bedrock to get points on the board early in the season, building confidence by not conceding goals before starting to produce more expansive football over more recent games and putting together an impressive run of results.

The idea that Liverpool could pose an authentic threat to Chelsea – this season at least – still remains unlikely, but Benitez is clearly building the most consistently impressive Liverpool unit since the days when Kenny Dalglish was manager, and if they can continue to perform at the level they’ve achieved in recent weeks, they’ll undoubtedly give the other teams who play in red – Arsenal and Manchester United – some ferocious competition this term.

Arsenal had another away day to forget – defeated at Bolton – but it was a day to remember at Manchester United as they came together for the second time in four days to celebrate George Best’s contribution to the club. I was fortunate enough to be at Old Trafford the previous Wednesday when West Brom went to United for a Carling Cup game, the night proper tributes were paid.

There are some, very rare occasions, when you go to a game and the football just doesn’t really matter very much. It’s not a luxury you can indulge in, not if you’re Bryan Robson, Sir Alex Ferguson, Paul Robinson or Darren Fletcher, but for those of us there as spectators, there are evenings that transcend the result that ends up in the history books.

This was one of those nights where every one of the 48,924 who were lucky enough to be inside Old Trafford can count themselves very privileged, nights we will all recount as one of those special “I was there” moments.

It may have been a cup tie night, but it was a night about a different era of football, about games played in the stadium long before it was branded the Theatre of Dreams, games in an era where the football put before you truly did come from your wildest imaginings. It was a night about simply George Best.

His passing the previous Friday meant that we were the first club to visit Old Trafford after his death, a fitting and supreme irony given that it was the Throstles who posed the first opposition for Best on his Manchester United debut all those years ago. And United reacted in the grand manner to the grand family, inviting a host of former Baggies from that era to join with some of Best’s team-mates and his son Calum to pay proper homage.

For ten minutes leading to kick-off, there wasn’t a throat without a lump in it nor an eye without a tear in it. Bryan Robson and Sir Alex Ferguson carried wreaths as they led out their sides, the players of today lining up in honour guard fashion opposite the heroes of yesterday, Sir Bobby Charlton saying a few brief words as all around the ground, supporters held aloft a poster of Best that had been handed out at the gate, before we joined in a minute’s silence. Even mammon had to give way to George as United even switched off the advertising hoardings for a few minutes, leaving a static image that simply read “George Best – Manchester United 1963-1974 – 470 appearances 179 goals – 1 genius”.

At the end of the minute, tension was released by tumultuous applause as the likes of Sir Bobby, Tony Brown, Alex Stepney, Graham Williams, Bill Foulkes, Bobby Hope, Nobby Stiles, Ray Fairfax, David Sadler, Len Cantello and the non-playing members of United’s squad such as Ruud Van Nistelrooy, Paul Scholes and Edwin Van Der Sar made their way off the pitch. Rare, rare talent, but you could glue them all together and you still wouldn’t have George Best.