Trent Alexander-Arnold is a gifted footballer. Twice he has helped Liverpool become champions of England. He was also an important member of the team that became champions of Europe, and he has played 33 times at right back for England. Alexander-Arnold is still only 26. His race is nowhere near run. He has, one may safely say, power to add.
And how did Liverpool supporters receive him when he came on as a second-half substitute against Arsenal over the weekend? Touched by the sun, thousands hooted their disapproval. The ‘Anfield faithful’, to borrow one of those sentimental phrases that come so easily to lazy scribes, let the player know that he could, in fact, walk alone. Charmers all.
Alexander-Arnold’s offence is to leave Liverpool, a great club, for a greater one: Real Madrid. He’s a local lad, and many Liverpudlians regard his transfer as an act of treachery. He’s leaving Anfield on a ‘free’, too, so the club can’t trouser a fee. This is mutiny, Mr Christian.
It is possible to argue the player has made a mistake. Liverpool are in rude health, finishing top in the first season of Arne Slot’s stewardship after several not-quite years under Jürgen ‘Klippety’ Klopp. Real Madrid, meanwhile, have endured a frustrating season, beaten in the Spanish title race by a resurgent Barcelona and walloped in Europe by Arsenal.
From a footballing point of view, therefore, Alexander-Arnold could have stayed his hand. The thing is, Real Madrid tend not to knock twice. This is the club of clubs, which has won the European Cup/Champions League 15 times. It is the domain of Alfredo Di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás and Zinedine Zidane. It is where footballers go to find out how good they are.
Michael Owen, who left Anfield for Madrid at the height of his powers, didn’t last a season – the victim of club politics. Steve McManaman was twice a champion of Europe wearing the famous white shirt of royal Spain. Yet neither man was given the Liver bird in the manner of Alexander-Arnold. Liverpool fans turned against Owen when he joined Manchester United, it is true. The narcissism of small differences, in Dr Freud’s book.
It is not uncommon for outstanding servants to leave Anfield. Kevin Keegan left for Hamburg in the summer of 1977, days after leading Liverpool to their first European Cup triumph. Keegan tends to get overlooked these days, but it is impossible to ignore his mighty contribution to the club’s story. Seven years later, Graeme Souness packed his bags for Sampdoria in Genoa after playing a starring role in another European Cup victory.
The ‘Anfield faithful’, to borrow one of those sentimental phrases that come so easily to lazy scribes, let the player know that he could, in fact, walk alone
But Alexander-Arnold is from Liverpool, and so there is a sense of betrayal. He’s ‘one of us’ in the eyes of that vocal ‘Scouse not English’ portion of the Anfield crowd. You know, the folk who make a point of booing the national anthem to show how daring they are. And they wonder why others don’t take them at their own estimation.
It’s important to distinguish Scousers from Liverpudlians because they are not all birds of the same feather. Ken Dodd, Simon Rattle and Paul McCartney are bona fide Liverpudlians. To identify Scousers, well, as Ko-Ko sang in The Mikado, ‘I’ll leave it up to you’. There are quite a few candidates.
J.B. Priestley, who visited the city on his celebrated English Journey in the autumn of 1933, was shocked by the vulgarity of the Liverpool Irish. Would Ireland, he asked, want them back – or even recognise them as being ‘Irish’?
Liverpool fans are not alone. Football, uniquely among team sports, exalts a tribalism which non-tribalists find puzzling – indeed, offensive. Journalists and broadcasters who should know better then fan the flames of this mental disturbance by using absurd and frequently quasi-religious imagery to describe the fans’ ‘passion’ and ‘devotion’. Yet we’re talking about a game, one among many.
Liverpool are worthy champions. The players represent a great club in a city that has so much more to offer than a few thousand of its more blinkered citizens are prepared to give. ‘Manchester man, Liverpool gentleman’, they used to brag when their port faced the right way. It might be a good idea for some of those hooters to live up to that honour.
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