Sharing of the spoils is usually as inconclusive as sitting on the proverbial fence. Rather than proverbal, we might have seen a legendary moment yesterday as Martin Skrtel scored the first goal for Liverpool after three years donning the red shirt and I wouldn’t be too surprised if it would be the only goal he scores in his whole Liverpool career. At least though, he is not in the Rob Jones mould.

A draw might be inconclusive, a loss of two points might be fatal, when fighting tooth and nail for a title. The thought of a fight for the title at the moment though is as charming as a gal’s toothless grin. In the grander scheme of things, when you are fighting for a fourth-place berth, a draw against a resurgent Manchester City side is not such a bad result, and that’s the stark reality of it all. The expectations are to be alleviated, and in this fight we are to endure, points will be dropped by everyone as teams are fighting in such category because actually they drop a lot of points along the way.

The way the game panned out and even the conclusion of it all, was a mirrored reflection of the season so far. With Steven Gerrard back with the starting eleven, Liverpool started urgently, pressing Manchester City in their own half. After just four minutes, Daniel Agger got knocked out and left on a stretcher with his face bloodied. Ryan Babbel got the nod to start. He seemed intent to make it count this time, making himself available and showing enthusiasm. Nineteen minutes afterwards, he had to hobble away as a two-footed tackle on his ankle put paid to his endeavour. His substitute was no-one less than Yossi Benayoun who later even got on the score-sheet but having only just passed fit after some urgent therapy by a Serb physio, his entrance was on the premature side of things.

The six extra minutes in the first half were a mere formality as by then the urgence in Liverpool’s play has well dwindled and the sanctuary of the dressing room after rain sodden forty-five minutes must have been appealing for the lads.

Five minutes on the clock after the restart saw Liverpool go ahead. It was a free-kick won by David Ngog close to the left touchline. Ngog made himself once again useful even though not having a proper shot at goal in the whole ninety minutes. Gerrard’s delivery was powerful, and penetrating. Skrtel had only to stretch his leg to direct it inside.

Going ahead didn’t improve Liverpool’s confidence much, as they seemed happy enough inviting City in their own half. Pepe Reina was once again commanding, but with a reshuffled back four, getting three points by keeping a clean sheet was a big gamble. Emanuel Adebayor headed home from a corner to put pay on the gamble and soon enough Stephen Ireland put City 2-1 up.

It only took a minute for Benayoun to nip in their six yard box from behind to meet Ngog’s cross and level the score once again.

It actually sounds like a frantic game, but after the shock of seeing a lead being over-turned, Yossi’s goal only brought a sigh of relief rather than celebrations. Liverpool did manage to win a few corners at the end but a winning goal looked as far as does a winning run at the moment.

With just twelve minutes on the clock, David Ngog volleyed coolly enough to give Liverpool a deserved lead. Glen Johnson was the instigator as he switched the ball from one foot through the other to get past between two defenders, and passed to the former. It was not yet time for the French lad to open the score as his short got blocked by the Birmingham keeper, Joe Hart. The rebound went to the stand-in captain Dirk Kuyt but there was another block by Hart’s legs. Albert Riera crossed the rebound and this time Ngog, Hart had no chance. In normal times, in normal circumstances, such a goal at such time, against such opposition would take the edge off the game, as it’s usually the first goal that decides everything. But these are neither normal times, nor normal circumstances. These are strange times.

There was nothing admittedly too strange though on the twenty-sixth minute when Birmingham equalized through a set-piece. The only one strange thing was Benitez finding his name on the score-sheet as he registered his first goal in the Premiership. Liverpool replied well enough, passed the ball around tidily enough, even though the eleven men in red seemed to be missing a leader on the pitch. It was sensible and fair enough to give the armband to Dirk Kuyt, but while he wears his heart on his sleeve, he never wears an armband with authority, and with his form currently slightly off the rails, he was never going to be authoritative on his team mates. Riera, back in the side for the first time in over a month due to a hamstring injury, had to call it a day slightly after the clock ticked over the forty-five minutes mark. He was frustrated and slapped the turf with his hands as he must have heard a tear. Steven Gerrard quickly and emergently came in for him, and soon enough it was Pepe Reina’s turn to hear a very strange tear as Cameron Jerome’s straight shot teared through the air.

The second forty-five minutes saw Liverpool regroup early and again put the pressure on Birmingham. The captain was understandably subdued but this time there was more urgency than the previous forty-five. Johnson had one of his better games, got past players and delivered decent crosses. Sometimes it was the keeper, other times lack of composure in front of goal, but Liverpool had to wait till the seventieth minute to level the score. Ngog slightly outside their penalty area beat his man gracefully enough but all the grace of the game ended there as the carthorse that is Lee Carlsley slid his body to stop Ngog’s ball but he missed up both. Ngog tumbled himself on the ground and the man in black pointed to the penalty spot. Gerrard accepted the gift and sent the keeper the wrong way.

The last twenty minutes saw Liverpool continuing the pressure but it was only Yossi Benayoun’s hamstring that gave up. The tempo overall was kept high, the performance would have brought three points on most other nights but while Ngog’s jump rather than dive might have rubbed his reputation, Liverpool can’t get the rub of the green.

You wouldn’t have expected Ryan Babbel to finally step up to the plate and deliver. I shrieked with delight when he did. Not for him really, as I’ve lost my faith and patience but simply because this was the least the men in temporary white deserved. The more optimists would even have thought that this is even a momentous change in tide for the surely talented Dutch. But a skewed free-kick finally put paid to that and in the grander scheme of things the tide didn’t even last for seven minutes to get Liverpool safely on shore before their other travels, as an inexplicable lapse of concentration afforded their Lisandro a dry path to goal that he made the most of it and left Liverpool with a feeling of frustration and unbelievability that a victory and a sense of hope got undone with such abrupt nonchalance.

Lyon looked to will use their home advantage early on in the match, as they had most possession and looked to press the make-shift Liverpool’s defense. It didn’t last long though as in their first opportunity to attack the French rearguard, a cross by Emiliano Insua was met by Fernando Torres. He was the lad you would pray such chance would fall on but while he tested their keeper, the test didn’t look rigorous enough for the French number one. It did give hope though that really when you get behind them they will wilt. Shortly afterwards it was Andriy Voronin who got his coolness tested. The Ukrainian looks cold enough when he’s on the bench but on the pitch, one on one with the keeper, receiving a pass that had their rearguard all over the place and nowhere near him he resulted simply temperate as he shot in the keeper’s legs and missed a glorious chance to for once get on the good books of some reds.

A draw had been missing from all Liverpool’s matches till yesterday. It was conspicuous by its absence as much as guile and character had been in some of Liverpool’s matches. Destiny though contrived that the return of the latter two be upstaged by an unwanted former. In most instances a draw away from home coupled with guile and character would have been welcomed but the situation rendered the return of a draw as at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It is hard to feel positive after such bad timing and destiny is now far from Liverpool’s hands. It must be the same way Rafa Benitez felt in this summer when a lack of support from the board kept his hand tied behind his back. A winter without proper European football looks bleak and watching from a plateau that this side seems to be stuck at makes you long for the rollercoaster that once this side used to ride under the same manager.

In a season of relative ups and downs, yesterday at Craven Cottage Liverpool found the perfect balance as they registered the eighth defeat after eight victories. Draws are yet to be recorded. Admittedly in the Premiership, Liverpool are faring slightly better as they have six victories against five defeats. I feel like popping out the champagne but it’s too early for that and I’ve still got the taste of toothpaste in my mouth.

This season has Gerard Houllier’s last two years in charges written all over it and Black November hasn’t even started. Last Sunday was such a great day, and yes I got carried away. I haven’t felt like that for ages. For all the alienations, the indulging razzmatazz, I didn’t care as proper football and in particular Liverpool Football Club over do them all. And they still do matter, but I can’t get my head round it. It’s just not driving me round the bend though as it used to. Yesterday was frustrating but it was far from shocking. For all the hopes and anticipation you get before kick-off there’s always the self-doubt lurking around. And it is getting the better of all other emotions. Really though, the Mancs match was a simple reprieve from a disastrous campaign, that numbed for a moment the ills of the state of Liverpool Football Club.

The pre-match discussion was all about the missing lads in action as Glen Johnson, Steven Gerrard and Fabio Aurelio went missing from the travelling coach, never mind the first eleven. Injuries and viruses are playing their part in this fast downfall. Still, the first moments were giving healthy signs and the chosen eleven will be more than up to the task ahead of them. They made the ball theirs, knocked the ball around decently enough and knocked on Mark Schwarzer’s goal regularly. They were hit by a sucker punch as a quick counter-attack undid Liverpool and gave Fulham a 1-0 lead shortly after Yossi Benayoun went excruciatingly close to open the score as he rattled the crossbar. Heads never went down though, and shortly before half-time Fernando Torres pounced down on a poor headed clearance and with technical aplomb shot home from outside the penalty area.

The second forty-five minutes were a missemblance of the prior forty-five, where you’d think it’s one of those useless international friendlies where the manager changes the whole eleven. Torres was subbed on the 63rd minute, but Ryan Babel would have probably proved more useful jogging on the sidelines delivering the odd drink to his mates. The knockings on Mark Schwarzer’s goal all ceased and there were loud doorbells ringing at the other end that Pepe Reina had to finally succumb to on the 73rd minute. Philip Degen got harshly sent off, Jamie Carragher less so and the writing on the wall turned on the scoreboard as Clint Dempsey found the net to finish off Liverpool.

The big question remains what happened to last season’s guts, character, reversals of deficits, long winning sequences and most notably the explosive finish. The club is in a mess, the team is in a turmoil, the manager seems to be stuck and unable to do anything about this blood clot that is severely restraining his side’s movement into the table and giving high warnings of a big stroke that will render unthinkable side effects and impairment of movements for years to come. If Liverpool can’t replicate a decent forty-five minutes, fifteen minutes later, how can you expect a replication of last season? The damage is done, the hope is extinguished. We will trudge along, starting from France next Wednesday, where the balance between victories and defeats will have to go one way or to another write-off of a competition.

The players were asked to stand up and be counted. And then run through Bill Shankly’s proverbial brick wall. The manager had bricks thrown to him from all direction. Before kick-off, Pepe Reina had beach balls thrown at him. At the end, the same Reina ran the length of the pitch, unencumbered as the brick wall was properly demolished and all that was on the pitch was the debris. And by the corner flag after his sprint, he picked and hugged the scorer who comes by the name of David Ngog. No-one from the press box dared to throw another glance towards Benitez, never mind another brick. They had their time. This was now Rafa’s. And the eleven red men on the pitch. And the Kop’s time. And dare I say it mine. It is such a feeling. Pure unadulterated joy. It might go missing for a while, but when it comes back, let it engulf you.

With Steven Gerrard out injured, Jamie Carragher got the armband and led the other ten out. Carra himself has had his fair share of ridicule and write-off’s in the past. Five hundred games and then some more later he is still here. He has had a poor start. By his standards at least. Yesterday, he didn’t just lead his team-mates from the dug-out. This adversity must have hurt him more than anyone else, and like it does to Liverpool, it got the best out of him. Him and the team had a poor start. Yesterday he returned to his best and the team had the best performance of the season to date. He blocked, he tackled, he made sure Reina had as little work to do as possible. He was prepared to take a red card for his side. He’s much more cynical than you’d think. And God bless him for that.

Another ten men got infected with his enthusiasm and aptitude. They all carried each other and on the 65th minute Fernando Torres was released on his own through a sublime pass by Yossi Benayoun. He still had a lot of work to do, but he sped past Rio Ferdinand, kept his momentum and composure in check and rifled home to give Liverpool a deserved lead. He had to get injected earlier on, but now it was his turn to inject belief in his team-mates that these are here for the taking and as his manager stated before they are much better than some people think. The scorer didn’t last the whole match. A tumultuous ovation saw him off to be replaced by the to be sealer of the match.

Some eyebrows must have been raised when David Ngog got the nod ahead of Ryan Babel. Getting on for Torres after such a goal and imperious display could have been daunting and admittedly his sometimes lack of technical ability was apparent. But he makes up for it with his enthusiasm and attitude. The same enthusiasm and attitude that got Javier Mascherano the red card. He’s another who had a poor start, but yesterday he could not be faulted. He went in with two legs on Edwin Van Der Sar at the 95th minute. He went in for the ball like any Kopite would have gone. It is probably the least red card that ever bothered me. He’s not only forgiven but appreciated for the act itself.

And back to David Ngog, with their keeper rushing and trying to obstruct the net, he proved to be a cool customer and there’s only one word to describe the feeling seeing this unknown 20 year old sealing it against them. Sweet.

Rafael Benitez has got a contract that he does not deserve. The amount of dough he is getting in his pocket, in his current account, in his offshore banking account reminds me of some of the bonuses city bankers got while bankrupting the system and then got bailed out by you and me. And that does not really sit comfortably with me, it actually rankles my inner self. Only sometimes, I admit though. He has asked for it, knew he had a strong hand with the fans firmly behind him and called the croupier’s bluff. The croupier probably spat with bitterness, but had to wilt to save some face. For the money he gets, he is still far from infallible. He makes mistakes. He can be stubborn. He is probably stubborn by nature. As a kid, rather than building sand castles and marvel at them getting washed away by waves, he’d get on a rock and marvel seeing the waves getting broke against the rocks and himself with his hands wide open. Still, he’s getting all that dough for the very simple reason he found himself in a place and a position where such astronomicality is the order of the day. I firmly believe Benitez is a football man, and even if his time were in that where you play the game or manage your team in front of thousands and then get the bus home with the same spectators, he would still be doing this 24/7.

Last season, but still in the 2009 year we had to endure the chants of ‘Rafa’s cracking up’. The chants did the rounds around every English stadium as much as the ‘Sit Down Pinocchio’ used to do. Admittedly Rafa did not crack up Ferguson’s hold on the title, but he far from cracked, as he managed Liverpool excruciatingly close to the finishing line. The summer was ordinary, with the books being simply balanced rather than fed, albeit with huge transactions. The difference between first and second might be very thin, but the effort to skip from second to first is extraordinary. After buying time for himself with his European Cup victory in his first season (or is that the deed itself?) followed by an F.A. Cup, while achieving a high level consistency in European football through out every season, he signaled that his whole squad and set-up can properly challenge to the title.

Hopes were raised by the faithful, but at the time it seems that he’s only built beautiful sand castles and the waves are simply carrying them away as if there was nothing. He needed some muscle into his castles but never got it. A foreign manager provokes the English media in two ways. Broadsheet papers for an instance, love interviewing him as he makes their paper look more intellectual and in a way exotic, especially in his early days. The tabloids would love to see him fail as you know fish and chips is better than paella. After building him up, the broadsheets would love to break him up as someone with a different philosophy from yours can be intimidating and there’s few better sights than seeing a cleverer guy falling on his arse. And when this guy happens to manage Liverpool the view is coupled with a few strippers on the side. When, your influence infiltrates into the terraces then you’d be even excused to carry a mirror so it can reflect your glee.

Four consecutive defeats is definitely crisis material. Four defeats in the league when it’s still October is lower middle table material. The cut-throat edges for the coveted title are unmerciful, and they have already left severe verging on the fatal bruises. What is though unfathomable for me, is how a manager that was lauded as recently as this summer could be getting not just flak, but vitriol from all four corners to even infiltrate in a way the Kop.

Given all the circumstances, tomorrow’s match against Manchester United exacerbate all its proportions, that is playing right into the hands of Sky and its partners in crime. The frenzy created is beyond their wildest dreams. Deep down I feel that this game is simply one that Liverpool must get something out of. Still and it is a big still, one match wouldn’t change my thoughts and opinion about one person.

Liverpool F.C. is a vehicle to escape the grit of real life. Sometimes I feel like a sucker for eleven millionaires trotting around. I hardly have idols anymore. My big reverie is for the Liverbird. I though admit huge respect for the man at the helm. Sacking him is unthinkable. Firstly, it’s not the Liverpool way of doing things. Sadly though, that philosophy has been long deterring and while it should be the main reason the cold facts suggest that Mr Gillett is behind Rafa because he can’t afford sacking him.

Are Liverpool then stuck with Rafa? For a change the lack of funds are working in Liverpool’s favour.

Jamie Carragher’s face at the end said it all. A red face, reminding us of a tireless performance but really, really was Carra’s face red through his effort or through his anger and disappointment? He must have been seething with himself and the destiny of the match. Where do you point your finger this time? It wasn’t the best performance, but I don’t think you could really put a finger on the attitude and commitment of the lads as was the case on Saturday.

Martin Kelly was given his European debut due to a Glen Johnson injury. Lyon aren’t a mythical European side, but the circumstances made this tie intriguing and more than that crucial. Kelly defied all this with a flawless performance that though had been cut short due to an injury. He showed tidy defensive skills, and as is today required from a right or left back, comfort on the ball and impressive distribution, highlighting all this shortly before half-time when an awesome cross of his was met by Aurelio’s head that prompted their keeper, Lloris to a point blank save.

The rather quiet Anfield crowd summed up the anxiousness that is at the moment surrounding this club. The fact that Steven Gerrard was substituted just after 20 minutes as a precaution tells you something how much a gamble was to start his captain, how desperate the manager was to tonic his starting eleven, and in hindsight how much this fourth consecutive defeat will wrinkle his guts.

And it was looking smooth enough to not even get close to that. Yossi Benayoun opened the score. A good mate of mine calls him a ‘beautiful player’. Most people would call this a well taken goal. Like my mate I would call it ‘beautiful’, as there is always something graceful in every move of this player. And considering everything this was a rose sprouting from a piece of concrete. After three games without a goal, you’ll even appreciate any species of weed. Liverpool came close to add to this but the half-time whistle put paid to it.

The second forty-five minutes saw Liverpool’s tempo admittedly rather flattening as a return to winning ways was to be preserved in all manners. Pepe Reina looked self assured as any other day and pulled two great point blank saves in succession from the same action. It didn’t matter much though as the order of the night and the current plight or the reds dictated for the rebound to be met by Gonalons head – in for Cris due to a self-inflicted head injury. A draw looked a lukewarm reaction after three defeats and thus in Liverpool’s fashion of extremes, on the ninetieth minute Delgado poked in to inflict a proper slash rather than just a wound.

It all takes me back to the 2002-03 season when following a sublime season that still wasn’t enough Liverpool went into a freefall and the rest is history. In Gerard Houllier’s words of that season, Sunday provides an opportunity to turn a corner, but really at the moment all I can see ahead is a high brick wall, that requires men of steel to run through it.