By Musa Touray
According to the International Standard, Sunday is the seventh day of the week. Yesterday was Sunday. A day Liverpool scored seven, while Man United was not saving. Super Sunday it was! The superbity of this day is matter-of-factly unilateral. Gratifying for the Anfield-bound reds and humiliating for the other reds. It’s an untimely stoppage—or hiatus—of a continuum of victories for the defeated reds.
Liverpool was brutal in frequenting Man United’s net with the ballistic projectile, contesting the netminding prowess of De Gea with a ghastly number of goals. It was three goals less than ten, and Ten Hag was the coach.
Fans of Man United are said to have an affinity for shouting at the top of their voices whenever they secure victory, even if it’s claimed in a second-class clash and not worth the noise. Those who have been deafened by the undue noise will be glad to learn that today’s bombshell sought to deodorize the football firmament of that pollution.
Humiliated and divided, instead of united, supporters of Manchester will start the week. While in school and at work, they will be careful not to touch off any conversation concerning football, lest it weighs against them. This is not too cunning a strategy to deconstruct the object of sarcasm the defeat has turned them into.
It’s less than one month since Madridistas suddenly turned the booing, uproarious troposphere of Anfield into a hush of astonishing theatrics. In a wild optics of vindictiveness, Liverpool, in today’s encounter, could not discern colour from logo. The conceders in today’s game sinned obliviously thereat.
What was their sin? They sinned when they donned a white vest, which dawned on Liverpool as a returning fight against the devilish Madridistas who crushed them in their own domain a few weeks ago. They faced Man with an unbridled force animated by a winning instinct.
That night in Anfield was abysmal for the religiously devoted Liverpool fans. They hadn’t paid attention to what has long been hypothesized by several football pundits. The hypothesis is that scoring Real Madrid first in a match is a self-annihilating recipe for defeat. This hypothesis is gradually veering towards reality. Liverpool learned this the horrible way on that fateful day.
Unlike their embarrassing undoing against Madrid when they unavoidably contravened their age-old mantra #YWNWA and walked alone, Liverpool, after thrusting seven solid goals into the net of Manchester United, are today not walking alone. They are walking with the world in joy and fanfare.