Liverpool fans are often depicted in very romantic terms by sections of the media.
They are described as dewy-eyed aficionados of the sport. Brothers and sisters in arms, all singing in smily unison to the tune of sixties and seventies hits. It’s not just a football club, it’s a family.
They’re so lovely that they happily mix with their Evertonian cousins during the ‘friendly derby’, when siblings of rival colours skip out of the house together and onto the welcoming bosom of the stadium.
There’s such a sense of togetherness; each and every redman – and woman – marching as one. You’ll never walk alone and all that. It’s ever so beautiful.
Except it’s not. There’s no denying that a section of Liverpool fans relish that sentimental stereotype, but Scousers can be the most snarky, angry, gobby, hurtful, divisive fans out there…to each other.
That of course makes them far more interesting and engaging than the bullsh*t Carla Lane fantasy. Football isn’t a Coca-Cola commercial. It’s a passionate, angry, obsessional, beautiful, horrible thing.
It is true that having lots of people who care deeply about something all pulling in the same direction is a very powerful force, but when nerves are frayed and patience desperately worn, everything can implode.
In such situations, the atmosphere becomes toxic – especially if there’s just enough division in loyalties and opinion to kindle the inner turmoil. The situation at Liverpool pre-Klopp was a bit like that.
Even looking at things from the outside, the atmosphere of civil war was palpable. It was reminiscent of Manchester United’s support in the tense final months under David Moyes. Stupid f**king planes and all.
Winning and success is fine, everyone is happy. Dismal failure or stagnation is fine, everyone is upset. But a large and passionate following can become very cannibalistic when there’s a schism.
Fans become horribly divided and angry with each other – you’re either a loyalist (apologist) or a revolutionary (traitor). You don’t understand because you’re Irish, or Scandinavian, or from the wrong Merseyside postcode.
If your immediate reaction to yet another bad result is anger, you can f**k off because you don’t support the team. If your instant response is optimism, you can f**k off as you’re clearly deluded or you’re part of the problem.
That was that powder keg situation before Klopp. Brendan Rodgers was blamed by some, FSG and players by others, but they are removed from the ground level. So everyone blames the easiest and most apparent target – fellow fans.
It’s a horrible atmosphere when a fan base starts eating itself. The easiest targets are the young (they don’t get it like us) or the foreign (they don’t get it like us) – neither of which can do much about where or when they’re born. Everything becomes exclusive, and not everyone is allowed an opinion.
What Jurgen Klopp has managed – with his CV and his easy charm and his perfect words – is to soothe a volatile situation. Perhaps more than any Liverpool manager in a generation.
There are no ready-and-waiting former legends waiting for him to fail; no clear and obvious alternatives who could do a better job. There is only hope, excitement, and for now, peace.
Klopp has completed his first mission and stopped Liverpool fans hating each other. #YNWA
