Most mornings I stop at the same sandwich shop on the way to work. Lovely family, proper warm place, and every one of them is Liverpool mad. It’s the sort of little routine that makes match days feel shared, even when you’re just grabbing lunch and heading out the door.

What’s always stood out is Dev, the main fella behind the counter. In five years I’ve never heard him lay into a Liverpool player. Not once. He’s the type who shrugs at a poor touch, laughs off a bad result, and moves on. The only time he’s ever been ruthless is when a player leaves the club. Then it’s simple: “Let him go.” No bitterness, no drama. Just the idea that Liverpool carries on.


That’s why yesterday hit differently

Today, Dev was fuming about the way we played yesterday. Proper fuming. I’ve honestly never seen him angry, and that’s what made it land. When someone that level-headed is annoyed, you can’t just file it away as the usual post-match noise.

We all know fans react in different ways. Some are quick to criticise, some defend everything, and most of us sit somewhere in the middle depending on the day. But when the “head in the sand” types start shaking their heads, it’s not about one bad pass or one bad decision. It’s about feeling like the direction is wobbly.


The Arne Slot question hanging over it

That’s where the Arne Slot conversation comes in. Not because any manager should be judged on one match, but because football isn’t lived in neat timelines. It’s lived in mood. It’s lived in the feeling of, “Are we actually seeing what we’re meant to be seeing?”

If the performance looks flat, if the effort doesn’t match the badge, if the basics don’t look sharp, that’s when patience gets tested. Not just for the online arguments, but for the everyday supporters who normally take it on the chin and crack on.


Apathy is the danger, not anger

Anger passes. What you don’t want is people switching off. When you start hearing “why bother?” more than “we’ll be alright,” that’s when it gets serious. Not because Anfield will suddenly empty, but because the emotional pull weakens. People stop rearranging their lives around kick-off times. They stop chasing tickets. They stop watching every minute.

I don’t want that for Dev, or for any of us. I just want an upturn in form so that the next time I walk in there, it’s back to the usual: a bit of chat, a bit of hope, and Liverpool feeling like Liverpool again.

Written by Chrisymate: 14 January 2026