Watching Liverpool like this is a tough sit. Not because you accept you’ll win every week, nobody sensible does, but because the basics look off: little conviction, little spark, and a side that feels far too easy to play through.

The frustration in the stands and online usually starts with the same thing: what are we trying to do going forward? When it turns into slow possession without threat, the whole shape starts to feel like it’s there for the sake of it. And once you stop hurting teams, you invite the worst bits of the game: being bullied, second to loose balls, and getting dragged back towards your own box over and over again.


Wirtz wide: a choice that blunts you

The specific gripe here is simple: if Wirtz has shown he can influence games more centrally, why shuffle him out to the left to accommodate others? It’s one of those decisions that might make sense on a tactics board, but on the pitch it can leave you with your best ideas stranded away from where the game is actually being decided.

Wide roles can be brilliant at Liverpool when they’re aggressive and direct, when the winger pins the full-back and you’re forcing defenders to turn. But if the team’s already short of confidence, moving a creative player away from the middle can just make everything feel even more predictable. You can see why supporters read it as a side “lost for ideas”.


Slot’s football and the mood around the place

There’s a line in the original post that will resonate with plenty: it feels like the football under Arne Slot has turned grim, and the comparison to the last stretch of Brendan’s time is more about the vibe than any one result. When players look uncertain, you start asking whether the messages are landing, whether the intensity is slipping, whether the whole thing has gone stale quicker than anyone expected.

And then there’s the Anfield piece. When the crowd goes quiet it’s rarely because fans don’t care. It’s usually because they’re waiting for something to hold onto: a press, a tackle, a run in behind, anything that says the team is alive. If you don’t give them that, the stadium can feel like it’s holding its breath.


Hughes, Edwards, and a squad that feels unbalanced

The bigger complaint is aimed upstairs: that Hughes and Edwards have overseen an unbalanced squad and stuck with a head coach who looks like he’s lost his mojo. That’s the hard bit, really. It’s easy to say “change the manager” when you’re furious. It’s harder to answer the next question: who comes in, and does it actually fix what’s wrong?

The suggestion of Steven Gerrard as part of a backroom set-up isn’t about nostalgia, it’s about standards. Someone who knows what Liverpool looks like when it’s properly at it, and can raise the temperature in the dressing room. Whether that’s realistic is another debate, but the feeling behind it is clear: this can’t be allowed to drift.

Because if Liverpool are in a mess, as this fan sees it, the most galling thing is the thought it’s been self-inflicted.

Written by CharliesGrummpyDad: 8 January 2026