I want to believe

Those amongst us who ever watched an episode of “The X-Files”, will remember Mulder’s poster which stated “I want to believe”.  That’s me right now.

I’m desperate to believe, begging myself to. People talk about the possibility of a league title around me, I hear it on podcasts that litter my constant car journeys for work, and I briefly get swept up with the possibility.  I allow myself a moment to dream about it, but I’ve seen too many false dawns to do anything but flit around the edge of this light at the end of the tunnel.  I talk myself in and out of it constantly. 

Examples…

“Mané going to the Africa Cup of Nations, should knock us and our shape.” We’ve got Daniel Sturridge and Big Div Origi, absolutely chomping at the bit on the bench. I want to believe…

“What if Milner gets injured?”  He did, Alby Moreno played well. Fits and starts that Alby lad, and I’ve given him all the same crap as everyone else, but he can do a job. You know what, he’s bought into it too, fair play to him. I want to believe…

“We’ll struggle against the grocks like West Brom.”  Boxed that off alright didn’t we? Even when we’ve played crap, we’ve found a way. Burnley (non-existent to me as I’ve mentioned before, pissed at a wedding, swerved the entire fucking thing) appears to have given the team the kick up the backside that it needed to find a way. To do as they’re told, work the plan and not give up. I want to believe…

“We can’t defend.” I saw a league table this week based on shots conceded this season. We were bottom, fewer than everyone else in the league.  We’re letting in a goal a game for the most part, in games where we already have a couple usually. I want to believe…

You get the idea.

Now it’s a case of where there’s a will, there is indeed a way. I’ve seen bloody minded Liverpool teams, I’ve seen quick Liverpool teams, I’ve seen clever Liverpool teams and I’ve seen a whole host of shit ones. This one, more than any of those, makes the cynic in me sit up and pay attention.  They could do it. I want to believe.

I’ll never harp on about it being a certainty, I don’t have it in me to do so. I’m open to the possibility.  It’s what I’m in this for. Well, pretty much.  I like the journey, the excitement and enjoyment of a vintage Red team.

My uncle, a season ticket holder in the Kop since Shanks was a boy, believes that its all misery unless we win the title. Cups won’t do it, the performances will all be for naught if we don’t take the bloody thing home come May. He can’t enjoy the matches as a result. He can’t see the good things that we do he’s too busy looking for the cracks in the dream.  The Scully to my Mulder, and should he read this I’ve no doubt he’ll moan about that reference, as well as his implied age of a hundred and odd. I want to believe.

If you can’t enjoy what we’ve seen this season, why are you here? The ride itself is an adventure, the goal is the promised land. To see that bloody trophy passed to Hendo on a sunny May afternoon, that’s the dream. I want to believe that this team and this manager can make it happen.

When I started this, the underlying point was going to be about how we should enjoy the journey regardless of the final destination. I don’t want to think like that though. I want to believe. 

Here’s to May, and to every mad weekend from now until then, if we embrace it, enjoy it and hold on tight for the ride, who knows? I want to believe.

Written by @BigLee01

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