LIVERPOOL, England — It seemed to start in the far corner of Anfield’s vertiginous Main Stand, at the point where the top tier joins the Anfield Road End and the sky. A sudden commotion, crackling through the mid-game static: fists punching the air, fans embracing, bouncing on the spot. The rest of the stadium turned, as one, to the source of the noise they had been waiting to hear.
Below them, in front of them, bathed in sunshine, a game was going on. Liverpool was leading by a single goal against Wolves — from Sadio Mané, just as the nerves were starting to mount — but right at that moment, that did not matter at all. Everything hinged on what happened 270 miles away, at Manchester City’s game in Brighton. And so all at once, more than 53,000 people reached for their phones, or craned their necks to see a television screen, or looked around, baffled and desperate, to find out what the commotion meant.
Nothing had happened. There had been no goal. On television, Brighton’s players were preparing for a corner. But still, the noise spread around Anfield, ricocheting and reverberating off the stands. It took a minute or so for it to simmer down, for everyone to work out that it had been a hoax: started, it was later suggested, by some mischievous Wolves fans.
A few moments later, it happened again. Another commotion, another noise, up in that same corner. This time it did not spread so quickly. This time, the fans looked to a higher authority, to the directors’ box, where a host of former players were sitting. When they saw Ian Rush celebrating, only then did they believe.
The force of the roar that followed was enough to draw the attention of Jürgen Klopp and his coaching staff. They did not know the score — but they knew that City was losing, that if things stayed this way then Liverpool would be champion, for the first time in 29 years.
The players heard it, too. “I knew when Brighton had scored,” defender Virgil van Dijk said. On the field, throughout, a game had been going on. Liverpool and Wolves had kept playing. A Wolves player had even gone down injured, crumpled in a heap. The club’s trainers had been summoned. Nobody inside Anfield could have told you who it was, or what happened. Everyone was staring at the top of the Main Stand, at the directors’ box, at their phones, hanging on events elsewhere.
Every few blocks on the road into Liverpool, on the road toward Anfield, there was another house festooned in red and white bunting, windows covered by enormous red flags bearing the faces of Mohamed Salah or Jürgen Klopp or the Liver Bird crest. People were out walking their dogs in replica jerseys. There was a wedding on at St. Andrew’s Church on Queens Drive. There were several guests outside in a deep, scarlet red.
Outside Anfield, thousands of fans had gathered on the corner of Utting Avenue and Anfield Road. They brandished yet more flags, twirled scarves, paraded smoking flares like trophies. They had come to welcome Liverpool’s team bus, to give their players one last push before the season’s final battle. It is a ceremony ordinarily reserved for the showpiece games: Champions League quarterfinals, the visit of Manchester United, that sort of thing. Wolves at home would not usually qualify. An exception was made.
Fandom is based around a comforting credo. Fans — of any team, in all sports — believe that they have power, that they can make a difference, that they are in some way participants in events, rather than mere observers. It would be too much to call it a delusion: in soccer, where statistics suggest there is a far more pronounced home advantage than in most other sports, especially. It is still likely, though, that the noise a crowd generates, the atmosphere it creates, accounts for only a small constituent part of what determines results.
That is even true at clubs like Liverpool, where the reputation of the fans is fetishized. (Last month, Arsène Wenger, no less, described Anfield as the most “heated” stadium in Europe, the “one place you do not want to go” for a Champions League second leg.) The idea of the fans’ power outstrips the reality of it.
Power, though, is not the same as agency. Liverpool fans had garlanded their homes, and themselves, in red and white, and they had gathered outside Anfield to roar on their heroes, and they had followed Klopp’s instruction to back their team to the hilt, but they knew that, really, nobody on Merseyside had any agency. What Liverpool did, what Anfield did, was dependent on someone else. The team with the agency was in sky blue, and playing against Brighton. Liverpool would learn its fate from its phones.
For 21 minutes, Liverpool dreamed of being champion: 21 minutes between Mané’s giving Liverpool the lead against Wolves and Aymeric Laporte scoring Manchester City’s second at Brighton, on the way to a comfortable 4-1 win that confirmed Pep Guardiola’s team as the first to retain the Premier League title in a decade. News of that goal came through the medium of oddly jubilant Wolves fans, taunting their hosts.
Anfield did not groan. It did not break down in tears. It did not grow fractious. Slowly, instead, it deflated. “Fingers crossed for an equalizer,” the stadium announcer George Sephton said at halftime as he read out the score from Brighton. The mood was subdued, the crowd rousing itself only to sing through the pain of reports of two more Manchester City goals, and to celebrate — with genuine emotion, Klopp felt — Mané’s second.
Liverpool would finish the season with 97 points. It had lost only once, at City. It has not lost a Premier League game at Anfield for two years. Andy Robertson, the left back, has never lost a league game there as a Liverpool player. He has just signed off on his second season.
Anfield did not empty when the final whistle was blown. Almost everyone stayed around for the traditional lap of honor, ordinarily an awkward sort of affair, as fans begrudgingly applaud a group of players who have let them down, crushed their dreams and would ideally be sold and replaced immediately.
This time, though, the affection was genuine. “It was nice to see that level of appreciation,” Klopp said. “I didn’t really see anyone on the ground. People really loved what we did.” By his standards, though, he was downbeat, his mood less characteristically buoyant, the smile that he deploys as a weapon kept deliberately concealed. “We decide how much we enjoyed the season,” he said, pre-emptively dismissing any criticism that might come his way. “Maybe not the final seconds, but the rest.”
Through his disappointment, he spoke a lot about pride. So did his players. “We have to be proud,” van Dijk said. Robertson could not “ask for more than 97 points.” Klopp made sure to offer the full context: Liverpool finished last season 25 points behind City. To close that to 1 is the “biggest development jump” he can remember.
Liverpool finds itself in its “best moment for a long, long time,” he said: It is now a team that has sustained its first genuine title challenge in five years and reached back-to-back Champions League finals, too. “It is pretty special,” Klopp said. “This is one of the best Liverpool teams in history. We have made unbelievable steps, and I expect more to come.”
That pride is understandable, and so is the bullishness, particularly with a Champions League final to come. And yet, for all of the praise Klopp lavished on his players both in public and private — he reiterated his pride to them in the changing room — Liverpool’s season could be read another way.
This is, as Klopp said, the best season — in terms of points — Liverpool has ever had. It won 30 of 38 games. It picked up more points than any team that did not end the season as champion managed. If the way to beat City is to be “close to perfection,” it did that. It ran one of the best teams England has ever seen to the wire. It put together a season it could not have imagined, a season as good as could possibly be conceived given Liverpool’s resources when compared to City’s. A season, in fact, that will be almost impossible to better.
Liverpool has its pride. And it has power, too: the power to stay the course in a title race, right to the final day, to overcome almost any opponent, to improve, however it might. But power is not the same as agency. “Nobody has lost this title,” Robertson said. “They’ve just won it.” He is right. The Premier League, at this point, is Manchester City’s to lose — and it will be next season as it was this. Manchester City has the agency. Liverpool, like everyone else, can only stare at phones, and look up to the heavens, dependent on events elsewhere, waiting for someone else.B:
【陈】【二】【狗】【立】【马】【就】【读】【懂】【了】【他】【的】【意】【思】，【然】【后】【蹲】【下】【身】【子】【给】【了】**【一】【个】【大】【大】【的】【拥】【抱】。 **【没】【有】【哭】，【他】【看】【起】【来】【是】【个】【特】【别】【坚】【强】【的】【孩】【子】，【他】【的】【眼】【神】【很】【坚】【定】，【甚】【至】【他】【的】【眼】【神】【里】【超】【脱】【了】【他】，【这】【个】【年】【纪】【应】【该】【有】【的】【成】【熟】，【其】【实】【看】【起】【来】【是】【让】【人】【很】【心】【疼】【的】。 **【就】【这】【样】【依】【偎】【在】【陈】【二】【狗】【的】【怀】【里】，【然】【后】【这】【个】【时】【候】，【又】【响】【起】【了】【经】【久】【不】【息】【的】【掌】【声】，【毕】【竟】【孩】
【这】【样】【的】【人】，【对】【现】【在】【的】【洛】【云】【汐】【和】【夜】【归】【来】【说】，【他】【们】【一】【根】【手】【指】【就】【可】【以】【捏】【死】【了】。 【两】【个】【人】【毫】【不】【避】【讳】，【也】【不】【躲】【藏】，【就】【这】【么】【大】【大】【咧】【咧】【的】【朝】【着】【暗】【夜】【之】【城】【过】【去】。 【空】【间】【通】【道】，【夜】【归】【熟】【悉】【的】【很】，【所】【以】，【两】【个】【人】【很】【快】【就】【到】【了】【暗】【夜】【之】【城】。 【不】【同】【于】【光】【明】【之】【城】【的】【宽】【敞】【明】【亮】，【暗】【夜】【之】【城】【却】【越】【发】【的】【显】【得】【厚】【重】【巍】【峨】，【进】【了】【里】【面】，【才】【发】【现】【暗】【夜】【之】【城】【的】【确】
“【江】【景】【和】！”【卫】【子】【歌】【冷】【不】【丁】【在】【江】【景】【和】【背】【后】【喊】【了】【一】【声】，【把】【他】【吓】【了】【一】【哆】【嗦】，【随】【即】【有】【些】【不】【满】【地】【上】【下】【打】【量】【了】【她】【一】【下】。 “【你】【来】【做】【什】【么】？”【江】【景】【和】【理】【了】【理】【衣】【襟】，【然】【后】【开】【口】【问】【道】。 【卫】【子】【歌】【懒】【得】【跟】【他】【废】【话】，【直】【截】【了】【当】【开】【口】：“【我】【现】【在】【需】【要】【去】【一】【趟】【北】【门】，【南】【门】【这】【边】【就】【劳】【烦】【你】【帮】【忙】【守】【一】【下】【了】。” 【江】【景】【和】【一】【脸】【懵】【逼】：“【你】【去】【北】【门】【做】【什】
【银】【翼】【小】【镇】，【正】【门】【城】【墙】。 【足】【有】【十】【多】【米】【高】【大】【的】【城】【墙】【上】【此】【时】【围】【满】【了】【前】【来】【对】【抗】【圣】【塑】【大】【军】【的】【玩】【家】，【不】【过】【随】【着】【这】【些】【玩】【家】【一】【个】【个】【来】【到】【城】【墙】【上】，【一】【个】【个】【也】【都】【被】【眼】【前】【的】【景】【象】【给】【深】【深】【震】【住】。 【黑】【压】【压】【一】【片】【的】【圣】【塑】【怪】【物】，【可】【以】【说】【完】【全】【望】【不】【到】【头】，【其】【中】【最】【弱】【的】【都】【是】110【级】【的】【大】【领】【主】，【强】【的】【甚】【至】【达】【到】122【级】，【而】【一】【眼】【望】【不】【到】【头】【的】【圣】【塑】【怪】【物】【还】2006年108期开奖结果【林】【飞】【一】【进】【入】【天】【地】【谷】，【就】【马】【上】【向】【天】【残】【发】【送】【传】【音】。 “【主】【人】，【你】【终】【于】【来】【了】！” 【天】【地】【谷】【的】【深】【处】，【某】【一】【处】【隐】【蔽】【的】【虚】【空】【之】【中】，【正】【在】【盘】【膝】【打】【坐】【的】【天】【残】，【收】【到】【林】【飞】【的】【传】【音】，【不】【由】【得】【大】【喜】。 “【主】【人】，【我】【去】【迎】【接】【你】！” 【惊】【喜】【之】【下】，【天】【残】【立】【即】【想】【站】【起】【来】，【去】【接】【林】【飞】。 【几】【个】【月】【不】【见】【主】【人】，【天】【残】【有】【点】【心】【急】。 【要】【知】【道】，【凡】【是】【被】【木】【偶】【之】【线】【收】【服】
“【恩】！”【秦】【南】【音】【笑】【着】【应】【声】，【便】【是】【率】【先】【钻】【进】【了】【马】【车】。 【原】【以】【为】【跟】【着】【进】【来】【的】【会】【是】【封】【谨】【颜】，【谁】【知】【道】【竟】【是】【上】【官】【墨】【宸】【进】【来】【了】。 “【怎】【么】【是】【你】【啊】？【颜】【儿】【呢】？” “【她】【要】【跟】【她】【夫】【君】【一】【起】。”【上】【官】【墨】【宸】【淡】【然】【道】，【便】【是】【在】【秦】【南】【音】【的】【身】【边】【落】【座】，“【正】【巧】，【我】【也】【想】【跟】【我】【娘】【子】【呆】【在】【一】【块】【儿】！” 【说】【着】，【抬】【手】【揽】【过】【秦】【南】【音】【的】【肩】【膀】。 【秦】【南】【音】
【萧】【洋】【试】【图】【躲】【避】【赤】【羽】【透】【的】【中】【二】【之】【指】。 【赤】【羽】【透】【那】【话】【语】【声】【明】【明】【喘】【得】【和】【快】【挂】【了】【一】【般】，【但】【指】【人】【的】【手】【指】【却】【极】【为】【平】【稳】，【萧】【洋】【怎】【么】【闪】【都】【躲】【不】【掉】。 【云】【萝】【挂】【在】【萧】【洋】【身】【上】【随】【萧】【洋】【移】【动】【微】【摆】，【但】【冰】【炎】【圣】【使】【威】【严】【依】【旧】，“【暗】【之】【烈】【火】【使】，【放】【弃】【吧】，【降】【服】【于】【吾】【等】，【吾】【等】【天】【才】【结】【社】【放】【汝】【一】【条】【生】【路】……” 【在】【萧】【洋】【快】【要】【忍】【不】【住】【冲】【上】【干】【掉】【这】【只】【中】【二】【红】【毛】
【过】【去】【了】【半】【个】【小】【时】。 【房】【间】【里】【面】【似】【乎】【真】【的】【已】【经】【没】【有】【别】【人】【了】。 【陈】【梓】【寒】【缓】【缓】【的】【睁】【开】【了】【眼】【睛】，【到】【处】【都】【是】【一】【片】【白】【房】【间】【里】【面】【还】【弥】【漫】【着】【一】【股】【药】【水】【的】【味】【道】。 【这】【里】【果】【然】【是】【医】【院】。 【到】【了】【医】【院】【应】【该】【就】【是】【彻】【底】【的】【脱】【离】【了】【危】【险】【了】。 【陈】【梓】【寒】【双】【重】【缓】【缓】【的】【撑】【着】【床】【铺】【坐】【了】【起】【来】，【只】【感】【觉】【到】【肩】【膀】【腰】【腿】【都】【有】【些】【酸】【痛】，【应】【该】【是】【在】【打】【斗】【中】【撞】【击】【造】【成】
【像】【毕】【天】【材】【这】【样】【的】【天】【狼】【团】【人】【物】，【摆】【在】【这】【些】【普】【通】【加】【蓝】【学】【院】【学】【员】【们】【的】【心】【中】，【那】【真】【是】【高】【不】【可】【攀】【的】【存】【在】。 【同】【时】，【也】【是】【他】【们】【敬】【畏】，【且】【完】【全】【不】【敢】【招】【惹】【的】【可】【怕】【人】【物】。 “【妞】，【今】【日】，【我】【不】【将】【你】【衣】【服】【脱】【光】，【让】【你】【跪】【在】【我】【面】【前】【求】【饶】。【我】【就】【不】【是】【加】【蓝】【学】【院】【的】【最】【强】【天】【才】！” 【毕】【天】【材】【突】【然】【开】【口】【话】，【态】【度】【嚣】【张】，【话】【语】【也】【是】【霸】【道】【不】【已】。 【作】【为】