The Noble Art of the Own Goal

Let’s face it, everyone loves an own goal.

Be it a lumbering centre-half wildly slashing a loose ball past his team’s immobile keeper, an over-compensating beanpole striker forcefully nodding a last-minute corner into his own net or Gary Neville aiming a lazy punt at a particularly uncooperative divot in the England 6 yard box, there’s something inherently and unashamedly comical about the whole shabby business.

If I were to analyse it on a psychological level, I’m sure I’d blow out some old guff about ‘schadenfreude’, the extraction of pleasure from the misfortune of others or, in the sage words of Lisa Simpson, ‘shameful joy’. But in reality it’s even more basic than that. It’s pure slapstick. If lab-coated boffins were to magically teleport Laurel and Hardy into the 21st century they wouldn’t waste their time trying to manoeuvre oversized pianos up ominously steep staircases. No, they’d be lining up alongside Titus Bramble in Wigan’s back four, firing a steady stream of over-hit backpasses at Chris Kirkland’s oddly shaped nut.

Look at Jonathan Woodgate’s Real Madrid debut. After being ruled out for the best part of a decade with a succession of ruptured hair-slides, how did the mop-topped student stomper mark his inaugural appearance at the Bernabeu? By carefully boncing a friendly long-range effort past a frankly miffed-looking Iker Casillas, of course. That he followed this up by getting himself sent off only confirmed Woody’s status as the clown prince of continental defending. Rumours persist that a desire to swap his gleaming Mercedes for a collapsing tricycle and his insistence on wearing an oversized, suspicious-looking flower in his lapel only served to hasten his Madrid exit.

And who could ever forget Bury’s Chris Brass? (Alright, you can put your hands down now, I was being rhetorical. Pedants!) He’s the poor sap who attempted an intricate overhead back-post clearance but succeeded only in volleying the ball squarely into his own mush, for it to rebound like a bunny in a catapult into his own net. And, to add injury to insult, name-calling and a fair bit of pointing and laughing, he managed to break his nose in the process. Genius. Pure genius.

Of course, the mirth is tempered somewhat when the hapless protagonist plays for your team. And Liverpool games have involved more than their share of notable own goals over the years. From the heartbreaking to the hilarious to the downright bizarre, our matches have thrown up some of the classics of the genre. So, without further ado, and after much deliberation, I present to you my rundown of the 10 Greatest Liverpool-Related Own Goals. Think of them kindly.


10 – Steven Gerrard, v Chelsea, Carling Cup Final, 2005.
The Liverpool captain does his bit to assure anxious fans that rumours of an imminent move to Chelsea are unfounded. By heading a late equaliser for Mourinho’s unlovely gang of mercenaries, cheats and wideboys. Thankfully, he resists the urge to leap into the arms of an adoring John Terry whilst being offered a pork scratching by Big-Boned Frank. Grim rather than funny this one. Oh well.

9 – Delfi Geli, Alaves, UEFA Cup Final, 2001.
Clearly aware of Liverpool’s record in penalty shoot-outs, the Alaves defender takes the honourable way out and opts to fall on his sword, ostentatiously deflecting Gary McAllister’s last minute free-kick past a stranded keeper.

8 – Brian Laws, Nottingham Forest, FA Cup Semi Final (2nd match), 1989
Whilst this semi final was rightly overshadowed by the horrific events of the original fixture, it is hard to forget the Forest full-back’s contribution to an ultimately comfortable Liverpool victory. He planted a perfect header firmly into his own net, before suffering further indignity as a delighted John Aldridge playfully patted him on the head, in the same manner that an indulgent dog owner would reward an obedient pooch for fetching a stick.

7 – Avi Cohen, v Aston Villa, Division 1, 1980
The “Beckenbauer of the Middle East” made his name in this game, which ensured that yet another title would be winging its way back to Anfield. In the first half he sliced a clearance which looped over Ray Clemence’s head in a perfect arc before nestling snugly in the bottom corner. Made amends by firing home in the right end to seal the victory. He never got over the shock.

6 – Jamie Carragher, v West Ham, FA Cup Final, 2006
Another of those ‘funny in hindsight, though at the time I could have strangled a kitten’ incidents. If you watch Carra’s feet closely, he is clearly trying to back-heel the ball out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, he misses, connects instead with his standing foot, topples face first into the Cardiff turf and sets West Ham on the way to a 2-0 lead. Walks away with a face redder than Bradley from Eastenders. But of course, we forgive him. After all, it’s Carra, for God’s sake!

5 – Phil Neville, Everton, Premiership, 2006
Now this is more like it. After all, what could be funnier than seeing an Everton player, an ex- Man. United player, a Neville, leave his own keeper clutching at thin air in the Anfield derby. It’s like winning the National Lottery, only as an added reward they’re going to throw in a lifetime’s supply of Scampi Fries, a pair of x-ray goggles and a helmet made out of giant magnets. Outstanding.

4 – Sandy Brown, Everton, Division 1, 1969
This effort will always hold a special place in the hearts of Reds of a certain age. Some wing trickery from Peter Thompson down the left, a curling cross delivered to the edge of the 6 yard box, a stunning dive header from the Everton clogger performed with all the grace of hippo on a skateboard, the sound of 10,000 jaws simultaneously dropping in the Gwladys Street end. Priceless.

3 – Ronnie Whelan, v Man. United, Division 1, 1990
By this stage in his career the Irish magician and latter-day simpleton had developed a reputation for spectacular, long range curlers which left goalkeepers rooted to the spot. Usually the goalkeepers in question belonged to the opposition. Not in this case. Happily this was nought but an amusing distraction in what was an otherwise routine stroll to a 2-1 Old Trafford victory. But in terms of quality, style and execution it should have walked away with the Turner Prize.

2 – Djimi Traore, v Burnley, FA Cup, 2005
Like the shooting of JFK, the downfall of Thatcher or Bez winning Celebrity Big Brother, no-one who witnessed it will ever be able to forget where they were the night Djimi Traore’s mind was possessed by the spirit of Johann Cruyff. Unfortunately nobody bothered to pass the message on to Djimi’s feet. Just to clarify, fancy drag-backs a yard in front of your goal are inadvisable even with the footballing ability of an Alan Hansen, let alone an Alan Titchmarsh.

1 – Gary Sprake, Leeds United, Division 1, 1967
Quite simply the greatest thing a Leeds player has ever done on a football pitch. For the uninitiated, this is what happened. Wales goalie Sprake, no stranger to the blooper reel as it was, collected the ball in the Kop goalmouth and looked to quickly bowl it out to hatchet-faced left-back, Terry Cooper. However, whilst in the act of throwing he changed his mind, attempted to clutch the ball to his chest and, to levels of hilarity unknown outside of Russ Abbott’s Mad House, somehow managed to fling it purposefully over his shoulder and into his own net. Cue the Kop erupting as one into a chorus of popular anarchist singer Des O’Connor’s latest chart-topper, ‘Careless Hands’.

And so a legend was born, a career was in tatters and the power and mystery of the humble own goal was firmly established as a part of football’s ragged tapestry. Just ask Chris Brass.

The Importance of Beating Everton

There's never a bad way to win the derby. Granted, not every victory sparkles like a Cup Final triumph, a four-goal Rush demolition or a last minute Gary Mac miracle strike. But in terms of performance, commitment and overall context, it's hard to think of a more satisfying result against the Blue-Nosed Barbarians than the one on Saturday.

Because, and without wanting to veer into the realms of melodrama more suited to the Sky Sports production office, this was a game Liverpool really couldn't afford to lose. For all kinds of reasons.

Of course, a defeat in itself wouldn't have signalled the end of our top four aspirations. Nor would it have provided compelling evidence of a seismic power-shift in Merseyside's football landscape. But it would have been perhaps the sharpest dagger yet in the hearts of supporters slowly rediscovering a measure of belief, in their team, in their manager and perhaps in themselves, in the midst of this most tumultuous of seasons.

Whilst not performing with the remorseless intensity or unyielding conviction of the previous campaign, we have in recent weeks quietly established the foundations for a sustained push up the table. Six games unbeaten, five without conceding, pointed to a team regaining its solidity and, although the football on display was often functional rather than fluid, it's been enough to send the media vultures flitting away in search of fresh carrion (dutifully provided by relentless charm vacuum, England's Brave John Terry).

To have endured another setback here, against our bitterest (in all senses of the word) rivals, would have reignited the debate about Benitez’s competence, a debate that has been framed in such a way by the popular press as to leave no-one in any doubt as to the conclusions they are meant to arrive at. And, as is generally the case with such an emotive issue, the resulting divisions and recriminations serve only to foster the kind of instability that seldom ends well for anyone.

So the importance of Dirk Kuyt’s sharply-taken 55th minute header can not be over-stated. In truth, this was the kind of game Kuyt thrives on. He’s never going to be found wanting when commitment, hard work and physical presence are the essential requirements, and his performance here was a timely reminder to those who have questioned his worth and his place in the team. Quite simply, Kuyt was an example to all - tireless when Everton were in possession, closing down, harrying, intercepting, yet always available as an outlet when his team were on the offensive. His performance typified Liverpool’s grim determination to take three points, a conviction only heightened by their numerical disadvantage.

Referee Atkinson’s decision to dismiss Kyrgiakos could perhaps be justified given his view of the incident, which emphasised the centre-back’s lunge whilst masking Fellaini’s ugly follow-through. However, many of his other judgements revealed a degree of eccentricity, ineptitude and wrong-headedness on a par with Jedward covering the Velvet Underground’s ‘Heroin.’

How Pienaar managed to escape with just a yellow card for his despicable over-the-ball challenge on Mascherano would have left David Blaine flummoxed; that he received the exact same punishment for an innocuous leap towards Gerrard only emphasised the referee’s failure to exert any consistent measure of control. Similarly, Fellaini could count himself fortunate to receive no censure when attempting to volley Kuyt’s head from his shoulders.

Happily this was to be a day, unlike many this season, where inadequate refereeing did not materially affect the final result. In fact, it may be said that the loss of Fellaini, a man with the appearance and demeanour of something living in a ditch on Sesame Street, had a greater impact on Everton than the dismissal of Kyrgiakos had on Liverpool, given his aerial prowess and combative nature. The introduction of a half-fit Arteta as a replacement ultimately worked in Liverpool’s favour, given the lack of time and space in midfield and the relative ease with which his ambition was suppressed.

This was a victory to belie the oft-repeated notion of Liverpool as a two-man team. That’s not to denigrate the contribution of Steven Gerrard, who gave a performance of thoughtfulness and controlled passion to indicate at last that his peak form is returning. But collectively, Liverpool were immense. Matching Kuyt’s guts and industry every step of the way were Mascherano and Carragher, each displaying the kind of commitment and leadership that were perhaps absent earlier in the season. Reina, surely a shoo-in for the Player of the Year shortlist, was as dependable as we’ve come to expect; Insua demonstrated that he possesses the defensive capabilities to complement his attacking instincts; N’Gog ensured that the Everton defenders were constantly under pressure and underlined that, if he can only improve his decision-making, he could become a significant force at the highest level.

In terms of organisation, character, composure and ultimately, elation, Saturday’s derby brought back memories of the first Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Obviously, and without wanting to go too far down the road of belittling Everton (which, after all, is never the most challenging of tasks), there exists a vast gulf in the quality of opposition in the two matches. But, from Liverpool’s perspective, getting somewhere near that level of self-belief and unity can only be a positive.

It remains to be seen whether we can build on this and achieve the kind of consistency required to push for a top four finish. In this respect, the next two games will be hugely instructive. But with the likes of Torres, Benayoun and Johnson to return, and with Gerrard, Aquilani, Rodriguez and Riera getting closer to full fitness, it’s fair to say that, after what seems like a long, miserable winter, we can finally allow ourselves to look ahead with cautious optimism.

That's what a derby win can do for you. And that's why we should treasure every one.