FA Cup Final Preview
Star Date: 14th May 2022. Venue: Wembley Stadium, London
Star Date: 14th May 2022. Venue: Wembley Stadium, London
Saturday will be the 11th FA Cup Final in my lifetime for the team I’ve supported since a wee boy, and all due to the encouragement of my dearly missed, Manchester United supporting, Mum. She loved the pageantry and the pomp and ceremony of a day here in the UK we still call “FA Cup Final Day” or “FA Cup Final Saturday” and whilst many of the traditions remain, it isn’t quite the same. The 4.45pm kick off on Saturday would have seen the end of the game and the lifting of the trophy in days gone by, and showpiece footballing finals these days seem rather too choreographed and television pleasing but here we are, the Mighty Reds of Liverpool and the Blues of Chelsea, meeting again in a FA Cup Final, and exactly a decade since they last did so.
I was only 2 years of age when 2 goals from Liverpool legend Kevin Keegan both “paid the rent” and “undressed” their Newcastle United opponents in the 1974 FA Cup Final and so only 5 when 3 years later a European and Domestic treble chasing Reds lost 2–1 to their bitterest of all rivals, Manchester United (see above for the familial irony!) and despite Reds stalwart Jimmy Case scoring a goal still considered one of the finest to ever grace a FA Cup Final. Alas it would be in vain and the Reds would have to wait a further 9 years for their next FA Cup Final appearance, and against their near neighbours Everton in the first ever all Merseyside FA Cup Final.
And I was lucky enough to be there.
I’ve mythologised the year of 1986 to a greater or lesser degree in a number of my more personal articles archived here (see “My Dad in a Field of Dreams” linked below) and the year was a cliched rollercoaster, and from the most incredible of highs through to the most soul destroying of lows. I’ve also somewhat shot the 1986 FA Cup Final between Liverpool and Everton through the heaviest lens of innocence and nostalgia, and so here’s the bitter and the sweet surrounding that famous and, at that time unprecedented, all Merseyside FA Cup Final of 1986 and like all good tangentially twisted tales, it starts with a road traffic accident.
You see, in 1986 I had it all. I was a tall lanky 14 year old boy who excelled at my favourite English sports of football and cricket, was a somewhat shy and silent type with the beautifully and strangely alluring opposite sex as well as having what was perhaps one of the longest and arduous paper rounds known to mankind. Cycling from beyond the city centre through to the dockyards in the distance 6 days a week, and all for the princely sum of £6 (SIX POUNDS!) was an absolute joy I can tell you. The Naval Base and Dockyards were my last pun intended port of call every day, hence I had to carry a heavy bag of bundled up newspapers and magazines to the ends of the earth every day and all for those six whole English Pounds. As well as spending my hard earned cash on being a shy and unsure of himself teenager with long floppy hair that covered my eyes (picture Spandau Ballet — on steroids), I also spent this cash following my lifelong true love, Liverpool FC. Before getting lucky with the final ticket in 1986 I had been to a handful of “local” Reds games and by local I mean nearby Southampton (20 miles) and London (60 miles), both easy train routes for a shy teenager given a strict and cautionary tale to roam safely by his parents.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
Returning from the dockyard one day I had the fine and dandy idea to cycle the wrong way down a one way street adjacent to the busy central railway station, and spent a week in hospital with an officially diagnosed “fractured skull” for my silly juvenile recklessness. For “fractured skull” read small broken bone at the base of the skull, but I remember being told this as if it was yesterday: watching the snooker on the television in a hospital bed with the largest of all possible headaches and just wanting to curl up in the corner of the room and sob my teenage heart out. A school friend we’ll codename “Clifford” for reasons of anonymity decided he had the doctor’s skills and enough information on the prognosis of the patient and quite frankly, Clifford didn’t think it looked very good. Suffice to say, my returning to school after a couple of weeks away wasn’t exactly Lazarus like, but I did receive both the open mouthed stares of astonishment as well as the more pleasing pats on the back from my sporting friends, some of whom remain so to this day.
And so it was, mere days after returning to school that Kevin, cricketer, footballer, and last I heard, Bank Manager, who said those magical words every 14 year old football mad kid wishes to hear:
“Do you want a ticket for the FA Cup Final?”
Having only attended a handful of games, the furthest away from home being West London and the small, quaint footballing home of Queens Park Rangers, I was now venturing to North West London and the storied 100,000 capacity national stadium, Wembley. Kevin’s Dad had acquired 4 tickets from the local Football Association (and the local Association that would ironically provide the match day referee Alan Robinson, more of which later) and the three of us were joined by an uncle who’s name is now lost to the mists of time. We travelled to London by train and the entire outward journey was a rib tickling piss take of my recent accident and Kevin’s uncle repeatedly “roasting” me in the vernacular of today, and I can still see him gesticulating wildly at me and bouncing on the seat of the train carriage, laughing uproariously at my brush with death! We got lucky with the tickets: Liverpool end of Wembley, and we made our way down to the very front of that famed terrace, just to the right of the goal, thus giving us the perfect vantage point from which to see all 4 goals on that gloriously hot day in the sweltering Wembley sunshine.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
Again.
One of the many reasons for the absolute clarity I have for that sunny day when, as the Liverpudlian banner of old would state “we go gathering cups in May”, is that I had the entire day, all 6 broadcasted hours, recorded on a long play VHS cassette, and a cassette I guarded with my very life for so many years! The entire match was sandwiched with the very best of what was FA Cup Final Saturday back in the 1980’s. It was an “All Access Pass” we’re all so familiar with today, but back in the 1980’s it was a revelation, an event, to ride along with the team en-route to Wembley, or walk the turf with the players as they aired their specially tailored suits for the final, and all whilst the brass band marched imperiously and in unison through the centre of the Wembley pitch. The FA Cup Final could be timed with the precision of a Swiss watch back in the 1980’s with at 2.40pm a communal singing of “Abide With Me” (a favourite song of my Dad’s) before the teams would jointly walk through the famed Wembley tunnel and into the cauldron of the footballing amphitheatre for, at 2.50pm, a rousing edition of “God Save The Queen” (drowned out by the Liverpool anthem “You’ll Never Walk Alone”), and Royalty and dignitaries would then shake hands with both sets of players and at 3pm sharp, and at the shrill of the Referee’s first whistle, the FA Cup Final would finally be underway.
Whilst all of the pomp and circumstance played out on the pitch pre-game, I can still recall being fascinated by the incredibly intense (and rather inebriated) discussions being held all around me by Liverpool Reds and Everton Blues alike. I was 14 and innocent to the joyous, wisecracking nature of Liverpudlians and over 30 years ago, the footballing jokes at each other’s expense were still very witty, brilliantly funny, inventive and intended for laughs and giggles between mates, as well as extended family members. Today, sadly, this can be toxically very different. The footballing homes of the Reds and the Blues on Merseyside are separated by a large communal park and 3/4 of a mile at most. Families are divided on “Derby Day” and here was the first ever all Merseyside FA Cup Final, and playing out in front of my disbelieving teenage eyes, surrounded as I was with Reds and Blues mixing merrily together in every section of this hallowed old stadium in London.
As you will see from that rather pleasing image above, the Reds ran out 3–1 winners on that sweltering May day of 1986 but this doesn’t even begin to the tell the tale of the (VHS Cassette) tape. Everton held a half-time lead through England striker Gary Lineker and with fellow England International Peter Reid dominating the midfield and the Blues comfortable in defence, they were much the better side. Liverpool simply hadn’t started playing, or Everton had brilliantly stifled them from doing so. Either way, the pattern continued after the break with both Graeme Sharp and Kevin Sheedy going close for the Blues and there’s also the matter of Bruce Grobbelaar going walk about in his own penalty area (as Brucie was apt to do!), clashing with his left back Jim Beglin and starting a fight in a footballing house with only a scared and bemused Irish International footballer for company! The Reds were melting under the Cup Final sun and the Blues should’ve been out of sight.
Enter Rambo!
“Rambo” was the affectionate nickname for the adopted Scouser that was the barrel chested, slightly overweight, but gifted with both feet passer of a football that was Danish International midfielder Jan Molby. Otherwise known as “The Great Dane”, Molby was a firm favourite player of mine and followed the traditions of Jimmy Case (scorer in the 1977 FA Cup Final) and Graeme Souness as being the hard tackling yet gifted heartbeat of their teams, and on this glorious day, Molby grabbed the game by the scruff of it’s second half neck, and refused to let go.
He was involved in all 3 of the Reds goals, the 6 minute period when Liverpool overturned the 1–0 deficit into an improbable 2–1 lead, and he started the move that resulted in the final goal of the game with just 7 minutes remaining. First he “nutmegged” Everton defender Derek Mountfield with a precise pass through his legs that set Ian Rush free to round Blues goalkeeper Bobby Mimms and slot home the equalising goal on 56 minutes. Craig “Skippy” Johnston, Liverpool’s Australian International midfielder, tried to steal the equalising goal but his turn would come just 6 minutes later. But of more immediate consequence to this particular 14 year old was how an excitable Reds team conspired to knock over the Referee (who lived but a short bus ride from me, remember) and as I tried to point this out to my mate’s Dad he simply engulfed me with joy at the equalising goal! Another “nutmeg” pass, this time through the legs of Everton defender Gary Stevens saw Molby’s cross reach the feet of the ever eager Johnston in front of the Blues goal, and the glorious Reds of Liverpool had overturned a comprehensive 1–0 pounding into a faintly ridiculous 2–1 lead in just 6 beautifully inspired Jan Molby minutes.
Liverpool’s 3rd goal was a thing of beauty: Jim Beglin, presumably now recovered from the earlier fisticuffs with his goalkeeper headed clear from defence which Kevin McDonald caressed into the path of his midfield partner Ronnie Whelan who’s brilliant curling pass is headed on immediately by Craig Johnston into the path of eventual goal scorer Ian Rush. The Welshman brilliantly controls a difficult pass before releasing an instant pass to Molby who’s instant touch, control and pass is completed with one touch from either foot before releasing the now marauding Ronnie Whelan into acres of Wembley turf with a sublime pass that BBC commentator of the day John Motson remarked as
“Oh I say! His vision there was lovely”.
Rather than passing simply into the path of player/manager Kenny Dalglish to his left, Whelan instead chips a brilliant pass forward to the feet of Ian Rush who’s instant control and right footed volley nestles into the corner of the Everton goal, and Liverpool, under the stewardship of a still playing Manager Kenny Dalglish, had won the FA Cup to go alongside the League Championship they secured a week earlier, and a famed and rare League and Cup “Double”. As the ball hit the back of the Everton net, it in fact crashed into a static camera in the corner of the goal, a fact I immediately spotted on the day. As I turned to tell my mate’s Dad this oh so important fact he grabbed me in the biggest bear hug I think I’ve ever experienced and he couldn’t stop kissing me on the top of my head!
Memories are made of this apparently, and so henceforth the 1986 FA Cup Final has been the selfish template on which to judge all others, namely (1) I was there! (2) Liverpool win! (3) There’s a retention of the spirit and grandness of occasion that is a FA Cup Final and (4) my dearly missed Dad is there to greet me on my return from Wembley.
If only to see that unbeatable smile one more time.
Just two years after winning a League Championship and FA Cup “Double”, the Reds were on the precipice of doing it again, and with arguably Kenny Dalglish’s greatest ever side, perhaps Liverpool’s greatest ever side, and one arguably now pipped to that pun intended title by Jurgen Klopp’s current machine dressed in all red. With the English League Title wrapped up, they simply didn’t turn up on yet another of those swelteringly hot Wembley cup final days and, as so brilliantly described again by BBC commentator John Motson at the final whistle:
“The crazy gang have beaten the culture club!”.
The crazy gang was Wimbledon.
The Reds scored a perfectly legitimate goal that was ruled out by the referee, the crazy gang snatched a crazy lead from a goal scorer and future football manager so beloved of himself that if he were chocolate he’d eat himself, John Aldridge missed a 2nd half penalty, and Wimbledon “shook up the world” and punched the greatest squarely in the mouth. Let’s move on, shall we?
I didn’t qualify or have any hope of a ticket in 1988, nor the following year as for the second time in three years it was an all Merseyside FA Cup Final again, and with this magnificent team under the tutelage of Kenny Dalglish being again on the verge of a League and FA Cup “Double”. The final would be won in the most emotional of all circumstances coming as it did mere days after the Hillsborough disaster, John Aldridge made up for his penalty miss the year before with an early goal, Ian Rush scored two from the substitutes bench, and the Reds beat their Blue neighbours in a FA Cup Final once again. The “Double” disappeared “right at the end” in yet more iconic commentary, this time from Brian Moore, and with Michael Thomas “breaking through the midfield” with the very last kick of the game “it’s up for grabs now!” and Arsenal grabbed it, it being a 2–0 win that snatched the League Championship out of the Reds hands, at Anfield, and with the final kick of an emotional season, and a year that will never be forgotten, nor the Policing and Government “Authorities” ever forgiven.
I went to a lot of games from the early 1990’s onward and should have qualified for a ticket for each of the Reds two finals in the decade, but didn’t. The 1992 final with 2nd Division Sunderland was a damp squib on an unseasonably rainy day at Wembley that was only enlivened and brightened by the individual display of local youngster Steve McManaman and yet another FA Cup Final goal from Ian Rush. A certain Michael Thomas (see above) scored for the Reds too, having switched allegiances from Arsenal, and his spectacular Cup Final goal went a little way to forgiving him for breaking our Red hearts 3 years previously. The Reds ran out easy 2–0 winners but heartbreak was to follow in the decade’s other Wembley FA Cup Final.
I didn’t have a ticket in 1996 but I went to Wembley for what became known as the “Cantona Final” and managed to get in and thrown out of Wembley with a forged/stolen ticket in a matter of seconds before trying to watch the game on the Wembley steps outside the Liverpool “End” huddled around a small, pocket sized Casio TV. I had long given up trying to watch the scratchy and intermittent picture long before when, with just minutes left of the final, I heard a guttural roar from the opposite end of Wembley that I’ll never forget. The roar signified the only goal of a final I’ve never seen, despite being in (and thrown out) and then back in with a couple of minutes to go when they opened the gates at the Liverpool end to allow my frustrated friends to leave early. I’d lost my regular travelling companion, so I watched the “Spice Boys” troop dejectedly around the Wembley pitch before drowning my sorrows on the long train ride home.
Since the turn of the Millennium, the Reds have appeared in just 3 FA Cup Finals, winning 2 and losing the most recent. As with 1992 and 1996, I should have qualified for a final ticket in 2001 but both lady luck deserted me and, more importantly, I was an usher at a lifelong friend’s wedding. So I donned an earpiece, pretended to be some kind of friendly, well dressed doorman and whilst the nuptials tiptoed through the first half of play (0–0) we were safely ensconced at the after wedding party for the majority of the second half. My footballing and cricketing pal Chris leapt in the air when, with 18 minutes to go, word came down the radio wires (he too was secretly listening in) that flame haired Arsenal idol Freddie Ljungberg had finally given the “Gunners” a deserved lead and in a game that they could and should have already been 4 or 5 goals clear.
The margin between the two teams on the day was a chasm, but the 2000/2001 season led a charmed life all of it’s own. I was lucky enough to be at the League Cup Final earlier in the season where the Reds struggled to overcome Birmingham City before finally, and very luckily, winning the cup in a penalty shoot-out. I would be lucky enough to qualify for a UEFA Cup Final ticket too as the Reds seemed to reserve their best form for the cup competitions. Following the wedding I would drive the 4 hours home before picking up my travelling companions for the European final in Germany in just 3 days time, and for our coach trip from hell from the shores of England through middle Europe and into Germany.
With 18 minutes of the final to go, Liverpool looked a tired and beaten team but the fresh substitute legs of Robbie Fowler and Patrik Berger completely changed the game. Following Owen’s equaliser, suddenly Liverpool were completely in the ascendency and from an Arsenal attack the ball broke to substitute Berger who’s sublime long ball fell perfectly into the ever quickening run of Michael Owen. Not breaking stride, Owen first shrugs off Arsenal defender, and England colleague, Lee Dixon, before taking a touch with his right foot, into the path of his weaker left foot, before drilling a shot past the despairing dives of more fellow England colleagues Tony Adams and David Seaman in the Arsenal goal. One rifled shot from close in with his right foot, a sublime cross shot at lightening pace with his weaker left foot, and as brilliantly described by Clive Tyldesley on TV commentary:
“He has won the cup for Liverpool all by himself”.
As the Liverpool end of the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff (Wembley Stadium was being redeveloped and renovated) exploded with unrestrained joy, I too could be found running between the official wedding party and the general hubbub of the attached pub. Chris was no longer the happiest of Arsenal supporters! I meanwhile couldn’t believe the madness unfolding, wished I was there, incredibly pleased to be getting drunk with my childhood friends, and rather excited to be heading to Germany to see the Reds in a European final the following day.
If the 2001 final was renamed the “Owen Final”, then the 2006 final was unequivocally the “Gerrard Final” and it followed a similar pattern to the season ending final of 5 years earlier. Another swelteringly hot Cup Final Saturday in the beautiful amphitheatre of Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium, and another below par performance from a Reds team largely outplayed by their London opponents, this time West Ham United. With seconds remaining the jig was up and the cup was returning to “The Hammers” for the first time in 36 years. Then Liverpool born, Liverpool legend and Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard scored the most outrageous of goals that still defies the human eyes as well as the laws of physics, and cruelly West Ham’s bubbles began to burst all around them.
In the intervening 5 years between FA Cup Final appearances, the entire appearance of the Liverpool team had been heavily transformed. Gerard Houllier’s team of 2001 was dogmatically defensive. So was Rafa Benitez’s team 5 years later but magically the affectionately known “Rafatollah” won the European Cup in his first season (with a rag tag bunch led by Steven Gerrard), reach another European Cup Final 2 years later and was on the precipice of building an all time great team to challenge for the League Championship. The club would then implode under the weight of two unreliable (polite description) USA based owners and Rafa’s tenure and legacy as Manager wasn’t just spoilt, it was cruelly stamped upon. All this was for an uncertain future in just a few years: In the present, and after just half an hour of the 2006 FA Cup Final, the Reds are 2–0 down and in need of inspiration.
Following unforced defensive errors from local born Jamie Carragher and Spanish goalkeeper Pepe Reina, Liverpool were 2–0 down and the inspiration came, ironically, from a Gerard Houllier signing who wasn’t a favoured choice of his successor in the managerial chair, but the somewhat unorthodox style of Djibril Cisse won him many fans, and many more after his volleyed goal in the final reduced the score to 2–1 on 34 minutes. The supplier of the pass for his volleyed goal, Steven Gerrard, would score a volleyed goal of his own just 9 minutes into the second half, and from nowhere the Reds had squared a pulsating final at 2–2. Parity lasted just 10 minutes before future Liverpool signing Paul Konchesky floated a cross that evaded everyone, including Reds goalkeeper Pepe Reina and although a fluke, and with under half an hour to play in the cup final, West Ham were back in the lead, 3–2.
As the stadium announcer bellowed the coming period of injury time, a loose ball fell bouncing and bubbling and delightfully “sat up” in a long past footballing vernacular that screamed to be hit. From fully 30 yards out, Steven Gerrard hit a tracer bullet of a shot that flew past Shaka Hislop in the West Ham United goal at the exact height from which Gerrard originally struck the ball. It’s faintly ridiculous, even today, to appraise that goal. Gerrard would half jokingly state after the game that he was too tired to do anything else but hit the shot! A shot that truly does defy the laws of physics as much as the unwritten laws of a sporting contest. Liverpool were down and out.
Again.
As they were in Istanbul a year previously.
Teddy Sheringham would be the only successful West Ham scorer in the penalty shoot out that decided the game. Didi Hamann, Steven Gerrard and John Arne Riise all scored their penalties, and the Reds claimed their 7th and, at the time of writing, most recent FA Cup Final triumph.
The often uneasy Rafael Benitez and Steven Gerrard axis will forever be remembered for the comebacks they masterminded in Istanbul and Cardiff, Liverpool exist to go “gathering cups in May” after all, but Benitez’s departure in June 2010 came mired in the courtroom wrangling’s surrounding the very future and existence of the club. Fenway Sports Group won their day in court and quickly replaced the out of his depth Roy Hodgson with a returning King, Kenny Dalglish. For absolute transparency, Kenny Dalglish will always be my footballing hero (it’s a childhood thing) so to see him back in the Manager’s seat, if only really in a caretaking capacity, pleased the old romantic in me, and as a regular match goer in this particular season, he treated all of us to three trips to Wembley, two glorious victorious, one trophy, and one bitterly disappointing defeat.
After defeating Cardiff City in a penalty shoot-out in the February rain of Wembley to claim the League Cup, Everton were then beaten 2–1 on a gloriously sunny April Wembley day in the FA Cup semi-finals, thus setting up the same duel in the late afternoon sun we’re expecting this Saturday at Wembley. The 2012 FA Cup Final between Liverpool and Chelsea was, in all honesty, a drab and dull affair, and those are not words written through the prism of a bitter defeat. For it was that, bitter. But Chelsea were far too strong, mobile and a more cohesive team unit than the spirited team galvanised by their captain Steven Gerrard and roared on by a King from the touchline. Ramires scored the Blues first goal on 11 minutes and Didier Drogba doubled their advantage on 52 minutes and by then, they should have been 3/4 goals clear and homeward bound with the cup. Dalglish immediately introduced striker Andy Carroll as a substitute and his decision was quickly vindicated. The Reds only had one option, to throw everything they had at Chelsea and a scruffy passage of play led to a crucial goal from Carroll just 9 minutes after coming on as substitute.
Then came the controversy: With arguably Liverpool’s best and most footballing pleasing move of the game, the ball was cycled from Steven Gerrard to Glen Johnson to Luis Suarez. His delightful chip to the far post was headed powerfully towards goal by Andy Carroll but miraculously Petr Cech in the Chelsea goal clawed the ball away. Both Carroll and Suarez ran celebrating toward the hordes of Reds behind that very goal, and the very goal that hadn’t actually seen a goal as, even with the best of TV replay’s it couldn’t be determined whether or not the whole of the ball had crossed the whole of the goal line. It doesn’t look like a goal, even on those dubious TV replays but then again, I was in amongst the Red legion of humanity behind that goal.
Whether you were lucky enough to be at Wembley that day or watching on TV, the Reds didn’t turn up to play until Andy Carroll was sent on as substitute and in all honesty, Chelsea were thoroughly deserving winners. I have a long tale to tell of this day and this final but sadly it doesn’t fit within the entire parameters of my 1986 template. Yes I was at Wembley, but Liverpool didn’t win, my dear old Dad has long since been exploring the cosmos and whilst the pomp and circumstance was almost recognisably present, I wasn’t. 2012 was a year when my life wasn’t so much falling apart, it had fallen apart! I was going through the motions as much as the ill matched and outplayed Liverpool players dressed in Red on the hallowed turf of Wembley. I was surly, disillusioned and heart broken. Then the Reds lost to the Blues and I ruined the day and night for my travelling companion and brother Andy, a fact we haven’t acknowledged (not really), but that’s what friends are for I guess?
So you’ve come so far and you’ve yet to see an actual preview of Saturday’s game? Oh come on! You weren’t expecting an actual analysis of the game ahead were you? Regular readers will attest to the fact that I always endeavour to shoot any possible article through the prism of the personal rather than prosaic posturing. Who needs such vacuous and cold previews, or a thorough breakdown of whether a counter press tactic will override the gruff defensive determination not to be drawn out, the game stretched and extended to create the vast swathes of space in which lightening quick attacking midfielders can transition defence into lethal attack? Jurgen Klopp versus Thomas Tuchel? Friend versus Friend? Mentor versus the Pupil? Mo Salah versus Timo Werner?
Thiago Alcantara versus Mason Mount?
Please.
Here are my pun intended final thoughts:
(1) The Reds and Blues of Liverpool and Chelsea have met 3 times this season and all 3 games have finished in a draw (1–1, 2–2 and 0–0). 3 games. Just 6 goals. So if you’re of the betting persuasion, a low scoring final score would appear to be your best bet.
(2) I don’t recall Jurgen Klopp playing his defensive line quite as high as usual in their 3 previous encounters this season, and certainly not as high and dominant as against Manchester City in the first half of the semi-final. But his Red machine is imperious when they play this way as well as encouraging teams to attack their high defensive line. I see this as the only possible avenue to a higher scoring, and more open, cup final.
(3) Or Chelsea score first and early, heaven forbid. I’m unaware at the time of writing as to their team line up, but their attacking threat comes from the dangerous American International Christian Pulisic, Kai Havertz and Portsmouth born Mason Mount. Whomever has the roaming role to snag the ball and transition play (Mount in all probability) has to be kept quiet. Defensively, holes have to be made in between legendary Brazilian Thiago Silva, Reece James and the man mountain that is German defender Antonio Rudiger.
(4) “The Kid” (Luis Diaz) must surely have forced his way into the cup final team, and seemingly at the expense of Diogo Jota whilst Jordan Henderson must start if the injury to Fabinho in last night’s win at Aston Villa prevents the Brazilian from starting on Saturday. A Henderson midfield axis with Thiago Alcantara (who has some Wembley ghosts to lay to rest as well as his captain), sitting in front of a defensive back 4 of Robertson, Alexander-Arnold, Matip and van Dijk leaves a midfield place up for grabs and hopefully Sadio Mane and Mo Salah to score the goals.
(Extra Time) No predictions. Everything correct at the time of writing. Nervous as a kitten. Dreaming of a Henderson trophy lift “dance” and maybe, just maybe, in this season of all possible seasons, many more silver lined dances to come.
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