A new red dawn at Liverpool.

A new red dawn at Liverpool.


Can this really be happening or are we just imagining it?  Revolutions tend to be bloody and not entirely pleasant but yesterday the marauding armies of Liverpool and Manchester City found themselves on the verge of a battle royale. This may not make for easy watching because it could get rather personal and nasty, particularly since both City and Liverpool may have some lethal ammunition ready and waiting to fire as and when necessary.

For the first time though in what seems like ages Manchester City were beaten for the first time this Premier League season by Chelsea at Stamford Bridge. It barely seems believable but City have now lost their first game of the season, they do bleed, they do cry, they are fallible, they do have a soft underbelly and they can be caught wanting when the moon is in the wrong position. What on earth has happened to the irresistible Leroy Sane, the playfully toying and teasing Raheem Sterling, the lively and superbly inventive David Silva and the ever hungry Sergio Aguero? Were they absent without leave, deserting their duties, disobedient, subordinate perhaps or just thinking about the Christmas revelries?

Meanwhile, City's North West neighbours Liverpool are doing what they threatened to do last season before discovering that City had already arrived on another footballing planet. But now the roles have, albeit temporarily, been reversed and for now at least Liverpool are remembering the richness of their heritage when Bill Shankly just wanted the Anfield Kop to be happy. Then there was Bob Paisley, a quiet gentleman who also won the old First Division championship and, like Shankly, became a serial winner.

Your mind harked back to the busy body Kevin Keegan, the tall John Toshack, the university educated  Steve Heighway, the accurately impeccable Ian Callaghan, the studious Brian Hall, the gutsy, red blooded but sturdily elegant Graham Souness, the ever willing Ray Kennedy, the tirelessly indefatigable Terry Mcdermott and the magical Kenny Dalglish. This was the Liverpool of old but now the present day incarnation has offered us an entirely new template, a different design and something just as innovative and ahead of its time, but with that singular thread of quality running through it.

Roll forward 40 years and yesterday the voices of old were calling from afar, the angels were playing their harps, the poets were stringing together stanza and verse while the lyricists were  composing their love songs and jazz arrangements. At times Liverpool had combined so many of those disparate elements that you could hardly see the join. This time though, Liverpool hit all the right, plangent notes, a team  in perfect synchronicity and uptempo syncopation, full of quick, short and staccato passing, silky movements, pushing, prodding, probing and always in complete control of possession.

Once again one man took centre stage and one man stole all of the most important headlines. Amid all of  Liverpool's sweet and almost fragrant one touch play, an Egyptian striker called Mo Salah scored again and again.  We all know that Egypt is more renowned for its pyramids but when Salah receives the ball there is a sense that nobody will ever catch him.

On numerous occasions Salah seemed to take on the whole of the Bournemouth defence single handedly, tearing open the home side's back four like somebody who thinks nothing of ripping up old telephone directories as a hobby. The bearded Salah is scoring goals for Liverpool with remarkable speed and there were times when you were reminded of Kenny Dalglish running  his defenders ragged, twisting and turning, then shielding the ball with utterly protective assurance. Then the prolific Scotsman would smash the ball into an opposition's net with all the satisfaction of a raiding plunderer or the goal scoring opportunist who always happened to be in the right place.

Rather like Dalglish, Salah has all of the essential attributes for a striker. For one of Liverpool's goals yesterday Salah almost tormented the whole of the Bournemouth defence. Easily rounding the goalkeeper after streaking through on his own, Salah cut inside once again, moved the ball around two defenders in double quick time and then audaciously shifted the ball onto another foot before slotting the ball into the net for yet another Liverpool goal. It was a goal that reminded you of a classical sonata or Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, a goal carved and minted, rather than laboured and contrived. 

And so it was that the man from Egypt confirmed his hat-trick, matter of factly accepted the applause from the Liverpool faithful down by the South Coast, heading back to the team coach and just grinning from ear to ear. The Premier League title race, which might have been presumptuously regarded as a one horse race has now been accompanied by a couple of stallions and maybe a palomino or two.

We may be approaching the half way point of the Premier League season but the chances are that this season could go to the wire. You're reminded of those celebrated car chases between Leeds and Liverpool from yesteryear and then Nottingham Forest being pursued by Bobby Robson's Ipswich Town in later years.

This has the makings of a nail biting thriller but the feeling remains that Pep Guardiola will have nothing do with nervous tension or gnawing away at fingernails. If Manchester City can regard as yesterday's setback at Stamford Bridge as a blip then the Premier League may have to be forewarned. There is of course a long way and, as has been frequently documented in the past this could be an arduous marathon and besides trophies are never won just before the Christmas holidays.

Besides, former City boss Malcolm Allison would have never dreamt of lighting up a cigar unless City had won convincingly and Joe Mercer would have privately allowed himself a chuckle of delight knowing fully well that there was a long way to go in the title race. Oh for those hazy, crazy days of wine and roses at Maine Road when the miners went on strike and the lights went out seemingly interminably.

It is still hard to believe that just over 20 years ago City were languishing in the old Third Division with only the likes of Gillingham and local rivals Oldham Athletic to look forward to in an equally as hectic fixture list. Now the international stars are shining, the team have never looked more dangerous and progressive,while the likes of Colin Bell, Rodney Marsh, Francis Lee, Mike Doyle and Tony Book merely figures from some distant black and white movie. Still, they have now won the modern day Premier League title on more than one occasion and City are no longer the end of pier act who nobody remembers. Perhaps they will prove everybody wrong again. It should be a compulsive watch.