21 January 2052 – Huddersfield got their arses handed to them, plain and simple. Liverpool rocked up to the John Smith’s Stadium and turned it into a slaughterhouse, 6-0, and it could’ve been worse if they’d fancied it. This wasn’t football, it was a public execution.
Grga Čavara kicked things off, bagging two goals like he was strolling through a training drill. Mauro Tallarico smashed one in as well, and by half-time Huddersfield looked like they wanted their mums to come pick them up. 3-0 and the home fans were already halfway to the pub to drown their sorrows.
Then came Mark Taylor, who decided to dance on their grave with two of his own, cool as you like, before Furkan Çiçek rammed home the sixth just for the hell of it. Liverpool weren’t even sweating. The Scouse lot could’ve eaten a pie mid-match and still run riot.
Huddersfield were a joke. Sinai Rotman got himself sent off after just 16 minutes, the daft cunt. Naranjo and Diallo got booked as well, probably just to feel involved. They had 53% of the ball but did fuck all with it – five shots total, none worth the price of admission. Their keeper, Clifton-Comley, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
The stats make grim reading: Liverpool had 14 shots, 8 on target, and an xG of 2.42. They carved Huddersfield open at will. It was men versus boys, wolves versus sheep, pick your cliché – it all fits. This was a massacre.
Liverpool march on, and Huddersfield? They’re circling the drain, and fast. Relegation’s calling, and if they keep serving up this shite, they’ll be answering it soon enough.
– Digby