The Vanishing Point.

This week, one man who knows everything was sacked by a few men who know nothing.

I speak in the context of football of course. You remember football don’t you? It would be easy to forget. In parochial terms it was born in Anfield in 1892 and was crucified a century or so later in a succession of boardrooms from London to Texas. Albeit, there was a legendary resurrection in Istanbul.

Some of us retain an archaic notion that the importance of football goes beyond the tangible. That history, memories and community inform the support we have for our chosen clubs. We are normally considered weak and naïve. Of course the machinery of football has always been oiled by cash. But nowadays it is a means to an end.

Once, a simple transaction existed between supporters, players and their employers at the club. Now, the currency of this has lurched from pride to avarice. Over time, football's primary stakeholders have shifted from the terraces to the conference room, from the  pre-match pint to the post season sponsor’s meeting.

This has generated the illusion that the scope of a club's achievements can be summarised in the bottom line of a balance sheet. Hereby the importance of trophies are ranked in a hierarchy of fiscal reward. Winning one competition is deemed vastly inferior to simply qualifying for another.

When Kenny Dalglish returned to Anfield in January, it set in process an evocation of something sadly lost in the game. Some opposition fans attributed this to an outmoded sense of sentiment. But they misunderstood the faith such a figure inspires.

If 40 odd trophies as a player and manager does not adequately justify this credence, then Dalglish's leadership in the aftermath of Hillsborough surely does. It began immediately. Brian Clough was anonymous as people died on the terraces; Dalglish took to the PA system to implore calm with his familiar voice. In the weeks that followed he attended hospital bedsides, comforting parents whose children lay dying. He arranged for his players to visit grieving families, he attended memorial services from Anfield to Walton jail. He witnessed God knows how many funerals. He was visible, present, inspirational. He was a leader. In a city racked with grief, Dalglish took the burden on his own shoulders. It cost him his health and by proxy, his job. 

Liverpool's trauma in the aftermath of Hicks and Gillete may pale in comparison. But in football terms it was near catastrophic. Who else then to unite the club? There was only one. It had nothing to do with reverie or romanticism. It had everything to do with trust.

Dalglish has been accused by some of being rooted in the past. This is only true in the sense that he understands the emotional attachment that ties a club to its fans. He fought for something that is in terminal decline. For this, he paid the price.

Some imposters commented that Dalglish betrayed these principles in his defence of Luis Suarez this year. Certainly damage was caused but to whom? In his robust and aggressive stance, Kenny was engaging in the same arguments, batting away the same myths that the rest of us were at work or in the pub. He was also engaging in a form of self sacrifice, deflecting heat from his player and onto himself. Ian Ayre and the rest of the club's authority sat passively and left Kenny at the vicious, ignorant, narcissistic wrath of the media. If there is any betrayal, Kenny was the victim not the perpetrator. Suarez sadly played his part in this but senior figures at the club were the real protagonists. Ayre meanwhile maintained a hotline with the offices of Standard Chartered. It is to these pernicious jurisdictions that the club's loyalties lie now. Not us. Not Kenny.

 At no other club is the bond between manager and supporters so strong. Witness The Kop singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Kenny, witness Rafa’s tears at the memorial service, witness Paisley’s unfailing kindness and time for young fans, witness Shankly building a footballing ideology out of his respect the people . Witness that then try to tell us that we do not know what is best for the club. Dalglish was the only man at the club to understand. Now he is gone.

Thank you Kenny Dalglish for reminding us what supporting this club means. If it is time, as is perpetually suggested to us, that we must move on to a new era in football- where we will have to learn to love our club in a different way- then thank you also for giving us the strength with which to do it. In my mind’s eye I see Kenny sailing away on the holiday he cancelled in order to return 16 months ago.  I cannot help feeling that something fundamentally special has sailed with him.