So, picture this: Arne Slot, just sitting there kind of nodding to himself, maybe sipping on a cup of lukewarm coffee while the thought settles in—Liverpool might have one foot (or maybe a whole leg) through the door of Premier League glory. I mean, after seeing them stun West Ham, with that sheet-metal sound of Van Dijk’s last-minute goal echoing far and wide, who wouldn’t think so? 13 points ahead of Arsenal. Six games left. Like, who actually doubts this now outside Liverpool’s realm?
Liverpool, right? Just need six points to hoist their 20th league crown. Potentially, if Leicester and Arsenal have a mixed cocktail of a day next Saturday, the Reds could nail it down. Maybe at home against Spurs a week later. Who knows? The drama, the tension, the “Are we there yet?” feeling.
Anyway, Arne Slot—cool Dutch dude that he is—seemed pretty chill about this whole thing. When quizzed post-match about the theoretical scenario of clinching the title at Anfield, he was like, “Eh, whatever.” Quite literally. Doesn’t matter if it’s done down the street or halfway across town. Just get those wins, one after another, keep honing, keep sharp, like the sound of sneakers on a polished gym floor—squeaky, determined.
Here’s a thinking-out-loud moment: what if this whole winning midtown vs. across-the-country debate is just background noise? I mean, ask any Liverpool fan. Will they care that they get to see their team winning the top spot right there? Probably, yeah. But at the same time, “where” isn’t as big as “we did it.” Trust me on that. Like when you finally find that missing sock and it was in the dryer all along—unexpected yet fulfilling.
So yeah, sure, we can talk about caution and the math of needing six more points, but you know what? Liverpool supporters, well, they’ve only really seen one triumph in the top league, and that felt like it was happening in a parallel universe thanks to the pandemic.
Anyway, today’s game held a little moment of fear—Andy Robertson almost gifted West Ham a lifeline with that own-goal scare. Still, come on, that’s football, right? Twists, turns, and unexpected blunders. But with your heart in your throat, you start to believe more in ‘when’ than ‘if.’
It’s that breath you hold, hoping for the best, while also bracing for the craziest. That’s the kind of cliffhanger any Liverpudlian has gotten used to these days.
