#any player that scores headers will be called big head in my eyes

[flem17ng]

can i request a jessie fleming x reader fic? where someone (u can pick who) is getting closer to jessie (like physically and emotionally closer) and reader gets jealous. all the tension leads to a big fight where jessie ends up reassuring reader that she loves them and all that (r and jess are in an est. relationship). and (only if ur comfortable writing it!) smut ensues

Thanks so much for this request anon! I’m always having jessie fleming brain rot so this was an enjoyable write.

pairing: Jessie fleming x reader

warnings: slightly suggestive i guess

word count: 1.35k

summary: reader catches jessie flirting with a fan after a big chelsea win. (established relationship)

The game was supposed to be the best night of your life. The crowd was cheering, the stands were a sea of blue and you had just scored a fantastic header from a corner that your beautiful girlfriend had taken. Needless to say: you were supposed to be happy! 

The crowed erupted as the ball hit the back of the net and for a moment everything was still. The players stopped, you stopped, the goalie looked up in disbelief. You had scored a goal in the final few minutes, putting chelsea in the lead. 

When reality set in you were swarmed by the team: Sam slapped you in the back while Millie cheered into your ear and pushed you towards the crowd to celebrate the inevitable win. 

It was then that you saw her: your wonderful Jessie, smiling and waving to a fan in the other side of the barricade. The girl (maybe 20) was wrapped in a fleming jersey with a sign over your head that read “marry me number 17!”.

You felt your throat tighten for a moment. Yes this was pretty normal: being in the public eye you often had thirsting fans chasing you (jessie probably more so than most).  And yet something about the way the girl winked at jessie made your stomach churn. 

Before you could say anything, the game was resuming. No time to worry about some little interaction. You were being jealous, that’s all. 

***

The game ended soon after. A whirlwind of cheers ushered you through the tunnel and into the change room where bottles of champagne waited for you. 

“y/n! that goal was amazing babe! I’m sorry i didn’t come to celebrate with you!” Jessie ran towards you, her shirt halfway off and a big grin on her adorable face. Usually this would be when you grabbed her rosy cheeks and kissed her, but your stomach was still churning so instead you gave her a quick hug and a nod before moving to get changed. 

The team was going to be moving onto a pub after everyone showered so it wasn’t long before the dressing room began emptying out. As the room got quieter you could hear a conversation Jessie and Lauren were having in the corner. 

“who was that eh jessie?”

“mmh? oh the girl! I don’t know, just a fan probably”

“bit of a looker though”

Jessie hummed but didn’t respond. You supposed that should have made you feel better but the fact Lauren had noticed the interaction at all made you a little uncomfortable. You and Jessie had been dating for almost a year now but had decided it was best not to tell people at work. You were both private people after all, it made sense to keep things quiet. 

It didn’t make it any easier when people tried to hit of her though. 

“hey jessie I recon i’ll walk to the pub” you called out at you gathered your things and pulled your jacket on. 

“hey are you sure? I’ll give you a lift if you want” Jessie looked at you curiously, her big brown eyes piercing into you. 

“yeah i’m sure. I want to cool my muscles down a bit” you shot her a weak smile before walking out of the room. The truth was you felt like the jealousy was eating you alive (and not in a nice way). 

You had been ok with keeping things private at first, but now the thought of other people, other women desiring Jessie, wanting her… it filled you with anger. She was yours. And you were hers. 

***

The pub was full when you arrived: Not only with the team but with family members, admin people, managers and coaches. The music was thumping loud enough to make the walls shake. 

You needed a drink. 

You pushed so to the front of the bar, attempting to get the attention of one of the bartenders when someone caught your eye. 

Leaning against the bar a few metres away was that girl, the fan that winked at Jessie. It look you a moment to realise the girl was pushed up against someone: her hands were resting against the bar on both sides of some girl. As you watched you realised it was Jessie. Your wonderful, perfect girlfriend was pushed up against some dumb blonde fan girl. 

Jessie must have said something funny (of course she did) and the girl reached forwards, placing a hand on jessie’s cheek, using the opportunity to get infinitely closer. 

The churning in your stomach had become a full scale tidal surge. You needed air, you needed to go home, you needed that woman to get off your girlfriend. 

What could you have done? no one else knew she was yours. 

Just as you turned to leave, Jessie looked around, locking eyes with you for a second before you were lost in the crowd. 

you couldn’t stand there, you had to leave. 

***

“Y/n! Y/n please wait up!” you could hear her yelling for you was you walked up the street but you couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. 

“please Y/n. that wasn’t what it looked like!”

You spun round, cheeks red, temper rising. 

“really Jessie.  because to me it looked like you were having a nice time getting felt up by some groupie.” you yelled, causing jessie to stop abruptly. 

“Babe-“

“Don’t babe me Fleming. I saw that girl in the crowd. That’s why you didn’t celebrate with me. Because you were too busy eye fucking some dumb blonde?”

“Don’t be crass y/n”

“Don’t be crass! Jesus, Fleming! You think I like to watch you getting all touchy with those girls? Do you think I enjoy that?”

you walked back a few steps only for Jessie to walk even closer. 

“Don’t ben ridiculous…” she breathed. 

“Jessie stop. You’re being mean.”

You started to turn around before remembering you would end up at your shared apartment soon enough. 

“y/n look at me. please.” Jessie’s voice sounded needy, desperate. Maybe that’s why you turned. Suddenly she was a whole lot closer than she had been before. 

“Y/n that girl… she is nothing to me. She cornered me at the bar while I was waiting for you, she kept… touching me. I felt gross but I- I didn’t know what to do!” Jessie’s eyes looked wet now as she talked. 

“on the pitch when I went to take my corner she yelled… well she yelled something pretty fucking gross if i’m being honest. the only reason i gave her the time of day was because I was so upset.” Jessie sighed and looked down. She fiddled with her ring as she spoke. 

You covered her hand with hers suddenly feeling the need to be nearer to her. 

“Y/n I love you. I mean, I am in love with you. I think I have been for years now. Even before we went out I loved you.”

you looked at her, taken aback

“Jessie?”

“please I need you to know this. No one compares to you. No one. Don’t you ever feel second best because you are always first in my heart.” It was your turn to tear up now. Jessie wasn’t always the best with words, this was… a first to say the least. 

“Jessie I want to tell people about us. I want to be your everything. I want there to be no room for doubt in anyone’s mind that i’m yours. Jessie please I just… I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with you and I want the whole world to know about it.”

Jessie grinned, her cheeks going red in the dim light. “darling, there is nothing i want more.”

she reached up and held your face, bringing you in for a deep kiss. You grabbed her waist, pushing her gently up against the building beside you and deepening the kiss until you were both panting. 

Slowly you dipped your head and kissed her neck, listening to her sharp breath as you went. 

“don’t ever talk to that girl again. understand”

Jessie looked down, mouth open and breathless. 

“take me home Y/n”

[putellasawfc]

down again !

rachel daly x lioness!reader

( a/n : sorry i haven’t posted in sooo long omg !! honestly the holiday season drained me & since i’ve been so unmotivated to write :( & i’ve been dealing with stuff in my personal life, nothing serious just so hectic ! but i am slowly coming back. still have a mary earps request & arsenal x teen!reader request to work on and a few of you have asked for a pt2 to the wag in training instagram post i made. they will all be coming eventually ! )

-

you jogged beside rachel up and down the pitch, you and the others girls were warming yourselves up for the ninety minute game against belgium that was due to commence in twenty minutes from now, the fans had already begun to fill the seats of the stadium and you were eager to win this for them. you were excited for the match, a little nervous but mostly excited.

it had been awhile since you were in the starting line up after recovering from an ankle injury, you had been on the bench for all the recent games and you were more excited than ever to be able to play a full game again, though sarina had advised you to let her know if you felt as though you were pushing your ankle too much and she would take you off immediately, not wanting to risk you causing any further damage to it which could lead to anything permanent.

you felt a nudge against your hip, and turned to see your girlfriend of almost a year smiling at you knowingly. “you gonna score a banger for us today?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, knowing she was only half serious. “what do i get if i do?”

“umm..” she cocked her head to the side whilst she pretended to think, both of you turning on your heel once you reached the end of the pitch so you could run back up again. “a big fat kiss and a box of chocolates?”

“is that it?”

you gasped at the sudden shove you were given, stumbling over your two feet as rachel laughed and continued jogging.

“oi!” you called out, “you can’t do that, i’m fragile remember.” you caught up with her, shoving her in return though not with as much effort she had just given you.

“yeah, yeah.” she shrugged you off, “that’s not what you were saying last night.”

“rach!” you cried out, head whipping around to ensure nobody was nearby to hear what the blonde was insinuating.

she laughed at your reaction, and you almost wondered why you put up with her sometimes, but when you glanced in her direction and saw her already smiling back at you with that fond look in her eye, that look you only saw when she was staring back at you, you didn’t waste another second trying to guess.

“you’re such a pain sometimes.”

-

you made your way into the penalty box as one of the belgium girls grabbed the ball and made her way to the corner, the red and black kitted team earning themselves a corner after the ball had been kicked out by millie when number nine had gotten too close for comfort. you got in position, standing where you usually always stood which was just outside goal, as closest to mary than any of the other england players with a few girls from the other team pushing and grabbing their ways between you and your fellow lioness.

you sent the blonde a reassuring smile, confident that you would be able to stop the ball from touching the inside of the net with how well you had all been playing so far already.

the ball had been kicked and was now soaring through the air with some speed, you bounced on your feet as you waited to see where it looked more likely to land, your arm stuck out to prevent one of the belgium girls from knocking you out of the way and gaining an advantage on the ball.

the seconds went by in slow motion as the ball got closer and closer to where you stood, and you made the quick decision that you would try and header the goal out of play as it seemed like the best decision, you did not want to risk passing it to another member of the competition and have them get it past your or mary.

you jumped on your feet, leaning forward to connect your head with the leather material when out of nowhere, you felt a harsh push against your back and ribs that had your head flying into something else instead, something that had you crumbling to the floor only a second later with your head in your hands and a mind numbing pain spreading through your entire body.

the crowd exploded into a chorus of boo’s, and the whistle blew not even a second later, the loud sounds doing nothing to soften that pulsing agony in your head. you didn’t want to move, your whole body felt heavy and the thought of stretching even a single part of your body sounded like hell to you. you didn’t even react when you felt a gentle hand on your back, or another on your shoulder, or another on the top of your head where the hairband to your ponytail was positioned. the pain was so intense you were sure that if you weren’t so out of it you would be a sobbing mess right now.

you felt a body loom over yours, and some hair tickle your ear, “babe? can you hear me? are you alright?”

the northern accent that sounded from your girlfriend was heavily coated in an unusual sense of concern that you never really heard from the carefree blonde, but with you down on the floor, seemingly unresponsive the villa player was more scared than she had ever been.

“babe? can you please just say something? or move your hand? just wanna make sure you’re awake okay? please.” she sounded desperate at the end, and your heart clenched at the panic in her voice.

so with all the strength you could muster, which right now wasn’t a lot, you moved your hand until you managed to find her thigh, where you let it sit, feeling comforted by the skin on skin contact you had with your girlfriend. it wasn’t long before she grabbed that hand and squeezed it in her own, her slender fingers intertwining with your own as her thumb rubbed the back of you knuckles.

“you’re gonna be okay, yeah? the medics are here love, they’re gonna make sure you’re good.”

you mentally nodded at that, though didn’t make any move to physically show her you had acknowledged her words. you felt her press a quick peck to the back of your knuckles before she released your hold in hers and moved aside to let the medics in. you frowned at the loss of contact, but there wasn’t much you could do about it until you were at least able to verbally communicate with the people surrounding you.

the medics checking you out was a blur, just a lot of hands touching your face and neck, moving your head back and forth, the gasp from some of your teammates when they caught sight of the nasty gash on your temple that you hadn’t even realised was there until the alcohol wipes came out. a light was shone in your eyes briefly, before it was flickered off and the medic gestured to two other medics who were waiting offside.

a few seconds later a bright orange could be seen from your blurred vision, though you knew what it was straight away. there was no mistaking the stretcher you had seen being brought out more times than you had liked throughout your career, most of the time for other players but today it seemed as you were the lucky girl about to be carried off the pitch. you panicked a little, worrying how serious your injury was if the medics thought the stretcher was necessary.

your eyes sought out the presence of the only person who could calm you at this moment, flickering around wildly in a desperate attempt to find her but it was like she had all of a sudden vanished.

it was hemp who clicked onto who you were looking around for, the man city striker was stood at a distance, biting at her nails as she watched over you almost protectively, and seeing you so frantic in your attempts to place your girlfriend had her feeling even more sorry for you. she was quick to help out, looking around to find rachel, who to no surprise, was with millie just out of sight from you.

millie was holding the smaller girl back with a hand to her chest, as rachel yelled at the culprit who was the reason for your newfound concussion, the woman in question at least having the decency to look guilty. rachel’s face was flushed red with anger, and her hand was flying all over the place as she yelled. it was a good job millie was there, lauren thought to herself. though millie herself wasn’t looking at the belgium player too nicely either.

with the medics ready to lift you and get you on the stretcher, lauren didn’t waste anymore time and jogged over to the duo, placing a hand on rachel’s shoulder which halted her ranting as she looked to see who had approached.

“they’re carrying y/n off rach, i think she wants you with her.” hemp kept the explanation brief, knowing it would be enough to have rachel retreating and joining you.

and she was right, rachel didn’t even bother to look back at the belgium player again before she rushed off to where you were still laid on the floor, some of the other lionesses now wandering off to give the two of you (along with the medics) some much needed space. she fell down on her knees next to you, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding.

“come on pretty girl, let’s get you somewhere they can treat you properly yeah? need you all fixed up so we can have you with us again.” rachel did a good job at soothing your racing thoughts, her encouraging smile enough to ease the part of your brain that was coming up with all sorts of scary injuries you were convincing yourself you might have.

with your head still being in immense pain, you were still unable to nod in response, so instead you opted to send her a weak smile to let her know you were listening and appreciated her being there. she smiled back, moving to squeeze your hand in hers once again which added to the comfort you felt with her around.

“just gonna stand back whilst they get you up, okay? then i’ll be with you whilst they carry you off. ella’s gonna be with you whilst i’m still on the pitch but if sarina takes me off i’ll be finding you straight away, alright babe?” she explained, and you squeezed her hand in acknowledgement, feeling more at ease now you knew toone who was on the bench right now, would be with you whilst the medics checked you over inside.

rachel did as she said and temporarily let go of your hand so that she could step away and allow the medics to handle you properly, not wanting to get in their way and cause any issues whilst they dealt with you. a mixture of emotions weighed heavy on her heart.

she was angry at the player who decided to shove you head first into the goal post, just to stop you from getting rid of the ball that mary had caught anyways. no she was livid actually. but she was also upset for you, who had just gotten back on the pitch after waiting almost two months for your ankle to heal after your last incident on the pitch, now you’d be off again and for your sake she just hoped it wasn’t for longer than two weeks at most. and on top of all that she was worried, very worried about the state that you were in.

this wasn’t just a simple hit to the head that you could walk off, clearly. you were bleeding heavily and it was as if you weren’t even aware of where you were, or who you were with or what had just happened. she was just grateful you seemed to be able to understand what people were saying to you, that would’ve been too much for her to cope with she was sure.

millie comforted her whilst she waited for the medics to finish, and she was grateful for the support from her best friend who didn’t speak, only rubbed her shoulder comfortingly in the stressful seconds that passed. it had been six minutes now since the game had been halted because of your injury, and whilst the others girls ran to their managers and listened to advice and new game strategies, rachel refused to leave the pitch with you on it, especially with the state that you were in. if it weren’t for the cameras that were no doubt pointed at her right now, she was sure she’d be a mess until she found out for certain you were going to be okay.

she moved forward the second your body was lifted on the stretcher and squeezed inbetween two bodies so that she could grab ahold of your hand for the third time since you went down, using her spare hand to rub up and down your arm whilst she walked with you all the way off the pitch. the crowd watching erupted into applause as they always did when an injured player was carried off and rachel could only smile at the show of appreciation for you, her super girl who would’ve no doubt been tearing up at the love you were receiving if you were really aware of it.

when you reached the end of the pitch, she quickly leaned down and as gently as she could placed a quick kiss to your cheek, giving you once saddened glance before she moved back. “love you baby, i promise i’ll come see you as soon as i can.”

the only thing keeping rachel relaxed at the moment was knowing that ella would be with you on the other side, one of your best friends on the squad who she knew would look after you in replace of her. she waited until you were out of sight before she turned to make her way back to the pitch, making eye contact with the belgium player who had been sent off with a red card for deliberately pushing you into the goal post, and she was tempted to approach the dark haired woman and do something she’d probably regret in the morning. but before she even had a chance to take a step in that direction, sarina appeared in her line of sight and sent her a look, a look that said ‘you know you don’t really want to’.

and despite the vision of you laying on the floor, body crumpled and unmoving so clear in her mind, she knew sarina was right. so reluctantly, she steered her body in the opposite direction and jogged back to her original position as she waited for the game to recommence.

-

four hours had passed and you were now laid in bed in your hotel room, the one you shared with rachel as you always did when you were at camp, with the blonde fretting over your every need.

the doctors you had seen had confirmed you had a hefty concussion, and would be out of any form of football based activities for the next two weeks, which was a bummer but you were just glad it wasn’t too long, hopefully two weeks would pass by in a flash.

unfortunately, they had given rachel a list of symptoms to look out for incase your condition worsened and now the poor woman hadn’t relaxed since she’d gotten back, constantly checking up on you and watching over you like a hawk so she could catch any slight change in your current state so she could alert them immediately.

“rach, babe, come sit please. can’t relax with you pacing around like you are.” you stressed, patting the empty space beside you. “i am fine. i promise i will let you know if anything changes.”

she tutted at that but approached the bed as you had asked her to. “will you though? i know what you’re like. wont wanna say anything because you won’t want me to panic.”

“i think it’s too late for me to be worrying about making you panic.” you teased, and she glared in response.

“well i’m glad you can make jokes right now. i don’t think you understand how scared i actually was when i saw you down like that.”

your heart clenched at the sight of rachel with her head down whilst she fiddled with her fingers, and suddenly you felt bad for making jokes when she was so obviously still upset about the whole situation.

“hey, look at me rach.” you reached out and placed your hand on top of hers that were together on her lap. “i am okay, the doctors know what they’re doing and they said i’m fine, yeah? i promise you, cross my heart and hope to die, that i will tell you if i start feeling worse, okay? as soon as.”

she stared back at you for a second, her eyes wandering from yours to the bandage that had been wrapped around your head after your injury had been cleaned, before she let out a sigh and nodded, her tense body finally relaxing for the first time since the game which you took as a small win.

“think you need to start playing in bubble wrap from now on. first your ankle, now your head, what’s next?”

you were relieved to hear your girlfriend joke around with you once again, albeit her tone lacked the usual cheekiness that it usually held when she was messing around with you, obviously still not completely at ease with everything but she was showing signs of getting there.

“think sarina will add it to the next training kit for me? i’ll even offer to put some money towards it.” you smiled, hand moving to cup rachel’s cheek whilst you watched her eyes light up in amusement.

“yeah i’m sure she’ll be proper up for it, especially if it means actually having you on the pitch for more than a game at a time.” she retaliated with a laugh at the end and you playfully rolled your eyes at her light hearted comment.

“i made it almost sixty minutes, better than what i’ve been getting lately, i’ll take what i can get.” you shrugged, and now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“love you silly girl, even when you’re so accident prone.” she leaned forward and pecked your lips, which you melted into happily.

“in my defence, what happened today wasn’t an accident! i’m a victim.” you told her, which earned you a shove back against the headboard.

[ynscrazylife]

hi!! may i request hermione granger taking care of reader after reader gets injured from quidditch practice or a magic lesson gone wrong? thank you!!

The Warrior and the Knight  | h.g fluff fic

Summary: After getting hurt during Quidditch Practice, Hermione becomes a doctor for her girlfriend.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! I’m so excited to write for Harry Potter again.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Harry Potter Masterlist |  Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/byblackswan

Hermione Granger usually wasn’t a big fan of Quidditch. The crammed crowds, loud cheering, and especially the competitiveness stirring inside her and how disappointed she got when the opposite team scored against Gryffindor. She had been to far too many games of Harry’s for her liking and she did like seeing her friend play, but couldn’t deny the longing to be curled up in her dorm, reading.

That all changed when her girlfriend came along.

Hermione had met Y/N when she was coming to get Harry from practice so they could go to Hogsmeade one day. Y/N was their age but new to the team, playing as a chaser. She was immediately enchanted by the girl and found herself a blushing, blubbering mess. It didn’t take Harry too long to connect the dots and soon, he set them up to date, and they did.

Being with Y/N made Hermione incredibly happy. She quickly fell in love and wasn’t afraid, because Y/N had a tendency to calm her nerves and fill her with some courage instead.

Hermione found herself getting more and more eager at games, doing her best to keep her eyes on her girlfriend and how she zoomed every which way. Her cheers got louder. Her signs for Y/N and Harry (but mostly for Y/N) got bigger. And she truly enjoyed being a fan of Quidditch.

Which was why it wasn’t surprising to see Hermione climbing up the stands to sit at the Gryffindor’s team practice to watch. They had planned to go on a date afterwards, but Hermione finished her book and wanted to just see her girlfriend in all her glory and awe.

Her gaze immediately zeroed in on the fifth year in the Gryffindor jersey that was too big for her and watched as she zipped around. One second she had the Quaffle and the next it was soaring through the air to her teammate. Hermione smiled when her teammate caught it and scored. 

The game continued on with Y/N having little mistakes. She was dominating the field and Hermione was so captivated that she didn’t notice the Ravenclaw in the stands, wand out and muttering under his breath, focussing on the game, definitely for a different reason and not to watch the players, well, play.

After the Quaffle soared through the hoop again, the team’s keeper flew down, got it, and threw it back. Y/N, being the closest, went to get it but her broom decided to disobey her. When she tried to go down to catch the underhanded through, the broom jerked her upwards. She tried again but this time she was jerked to the side. Hermione began to notice and she frowned in concern while Harry, who was on the field, tried to fly over to her. 

In the amount of time that it took him, though, the broom was going even more wild. Y/N could tell that this wasn’t going to lighten up anytime soon and at this rate, it’d be near impossible for her to safely get onto another teammate’s broom. Making a quick decision, she decided to take matters into her own hands and, in an attempt to gain some control, directed her broom downwards. 

The jerking all about was starting to make Y/N dizzy, but she didn’t give up. It took longer than it normally would but finally, when Y/N was closer to the ground (and when she was trying to block out all her teammates’ words because she had to concentrate), the broom went even more wild. She wasn’t at the height she wanted to be and when she tried to go down even further, the broom sped up, causing her to crash into the ground. Y/N rolled forward and the broom’s end managed to stab her in her stomach, but the momentum she had caused her to roll to the side, breaking off from the broom, onto the grass. 

In a matter of seconds, the Gryffindor players had landed and Hermione was making her way onto the field as fast as she could. Harry was scanning the crowd, trying to figure out the source of this, but the other players all went to Y/N, trying to help her. Once Hermione got there, her protective instincts kicked in and she pushed them out of the way, not trusting them with healing spells. 

“Hey, hey,” Hermione tried to comfort Y/N, whose face was scrunched up in pain, in a soft voice which she usually didn’t have. “You’re gonna be okay, yeah? I’m gonna take you to Madam Pomfrey.” She pressed her hand against Y/N’s stomach. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t too deep, but it still hurt. 

“Madam Pomfrey can’t help. At least, not right now. I passed the Hospital Wing on my way over to practice - it’s filled with students with that nasty cold,” one of the Gryffindor chasers told the brunette. 

Hermione cursed under her breath but gave Y/N a smile, wanting to be strong for her. “Harry!” She called her friend over. “Help me get Y/N to my dorm. I’m at least competent in the practice of healing spells. I’ll help her out.” 

Harry nodded and they both helped Y/N walk to the dorm since she had also hurt her ankle. When they got there, Hermione stepped into the leader role. She got Y/N comfy on her bed and ordered Harry to get all the healing books he could from the library. After he left, she grabbed her wand and went to jump into action, but Y/N grabbed her hand softly, making Hermione pause, at first worried that something was wrong, and went to go ask all the questions until-

“Hey,” Y/N said, her voice gentle, gaze full of adoration. “Take a deep breath.”

Hermione shook her head. “You’re hurt - there’s no time.” 

Y/N just shrugged. “I’ll be okay . . . I just wanted to say, I’m glad you were at the practice today, and not just because I’m hurt,” she said. 

Hermione smiled, allowing herself to relax for a couple moments. “I’ll always be here for you, I hope you know that,” she replied, kissing Y/N’s forehead before taking a deep breath like her girlfriend told her to. She then straightened up and brought her wand out, healing her ankle (though it took a few tries) first.

Afterwards, she dealt with Y/N’s stomach wound. It wasn’t that bad, but she didn’t want it to get worse, which is why, after she used a spell to stop and clean the blood, she washed out the wound the Muggle way. Then, she conjured some bandages and bandaged her up tightly. 

“My warrior,” Hermione said as she got into the bed also, slipping under the covers. 

Y/N chuckled and leaned her head against Hermione’s shoulder. “My knight in shining armor,” she replied.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @kathryndimitrescu @snipyloulou @cc13723things

Harry Potter Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @okkulta @marauderenergy @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @mads-weasley @afraid-to-be-me @lilymurphy03

[aitarose]

YELLOW DAISIES (A. MIYA) pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader

synopsis: atsumu miya, japan’s most entitled player, the person that strangers resented for unprecedented boasting and confidence—a facade as there was only one person who knew the real him.

word count: 1.6k

genre: established relationship, fluff, time skip

warnings: slight angst, asshole!atsumu?, hospital, mentions of death

notes: i’m only on episode two of season four so i’ve literally never heard this man speak a word, but i wrote this for some reason asjdfkl

↳ DIRECTORY

He was revolutionary—that was what flashed in bright lights in the media, magazines, and news when the name Miya Atsumu came into the picture. It was an honorable title, one that he’d earned from his years of experience, years of effort to become the best player he could possibly be. 

Fans of the game couldn’t help but admire his ambition, his confidence when it came to setting—when it came to being on the court. There was nowhere else he seemed to fit, no where else that deemed worthy of a man like him.

He was simply made to play volleyball, he was put on the planet to coordinate the team and help lead them to their respective victories. The drive he had was envious, admirable even to professionals that were years ahead of him in experience. 

But there was a catch, just as there always seemed to be a catch when things appear too perfect or other-worldly, as Miya Atsumu was considered the most egocentric man in all of Japan. 

Yes, his talent was astonishing and his looks trumped some of the most handsome men in the world, but he was a complete and utter narcissist to the public eye. A complete asshole in all senses of empathy. 

He was perhaps an enigma. A man that no one person could quite figure out. A total mystery to everyone but those close to him—to everyone but his twin-brother and the few teammates that he considered friends.

And it wasn’t that the public wanted to hate him, they wanted nothing more than to find a redeeming quality, something that would save his reputation—the ignorant reputation that he’d somehow managed to build himself over the course of his professional career.

Tabloids constantly had new headlines to publish, weekly reports on whatever star-born attitude Atsumu had acted on in public, during games, or even in the safety of the team’s after parties—parties that he’d rarely be found at.

The most common hate train would be the look he’d give the camera every time he so much as scored a point mid-match. The cocky, full of himself gaze to the viewers watching at home, as if to say that he was the real King of the Court. 

Holding up his hands in the shape of a heart, Atsumu would smile with a smug grin, teeth flashing white and sticking his tongue out dramatically. He’d hold the position for a few seconds, making sure that the camera got a good take of his face, before returning to the adrenaline rush of the game.

It was as if he became an even better player after his boastful routine, focusing on the game as if it was life or death, as if he would be ruined if they were to lose a single point—frightening the other team with one glance, one look forcing them to crumble underneath their own dead weight.

With his rare intimidating attitude, the Black Jackals had little to nothing to worry about when it came to their setter. He was reliable, always there to pick up the slack when all odds seemed to be against them—when the books refused to read in their favor.

And his teammates absolutely loved him, they knew him better than nearly anyone other than Osamu. When microphones and interviewers shoved misguided questions in their faces, they’d always defend him, as they were more than just players on the same side of the court—they were practically brothers.

So, when it’d be time to stay after the game to greet the fans, give them kisses on the cheek while the camera cemented their meeting in history, his friends paid no mind to how quickly Atsumu would rush out of the building. They’d pay no attention to how he’d refuse to entertain his fans, only stopping for one girl—one girl who’d offered him a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. 

“Thank you.” He’d mutter, nodding his head at the young girl before stalking off, ignoring how she fawned over the beauty of his facial features, obsessing over the way he’d just so much as acknowledged her existence. 

Pulling out of the stadium’s parking lot was always a big hassle, with the media and paparazzi awaiting his exit, video cameras taping his every move and step he took. There was zero privacy for him, every one of his secrets always seeming to be on film.

But Atsumu didn’t care, he didn’t mind running over a few parking cones, forcing the photographers to jump out of his car’s way, back onto the sidewalk where they belonged. He had absolutely no disregard for their safety according to the new’s titles.

As well as no respect to traffic laws. Speeding limits was a thing of the past in his mind, always going about twenty miles over, whether that was on a highway or neighborhood street. His life ran on double time, needing to be in a rush, a rush away from his duties.

His sports car headed north on the daily, never straying from its path, in pursuit of the same destination every day—every time he had the chance to escape the responsibilities of being a world-known athlete.

And though the world liked to act as if they knew everything about him, as if he was an open book whose chapters were updated every week, no one knew why Atsumu would spend so much time at the international hospital. Why he’d enter the building in the evenings and leave at dawn.

Even today, after the loss of a championship match, he wore the brightest smile on his face while holding a massive bouquet of yellow daisies—the flower that’d always accompany him through the blank grey walls of the healing center.

The grin would stay plastered, the expression reading ingenuity as he’d walk through the automatic doors, taking a final glance back to make sure that no one had followed him, before letting the facade crumble—before he let it dissolve into a somber frown. 

“Looking beautiful as always.” Atsumu laughed, waltzing up to the front desk, greeting his favorite worker as she rolled her eyes, passing him the check in sheet with a pointed look. “How’s my girl doing?”

The woman behind the counter took a deep breath, inspecting his signature to ensure that he hadn’t signed in the wrong place, before looking up to respond to his question—the same question that he asked her every day.

“Waiting for you.” She said, gesturing that everything was alright and he could proceed to the dual elevators that carried him to the top floor, the floor in which permanent residents stayed. “She’s up there waiting, just like she always is.”

Blowing the clerk a joking kiss, Atsumu carried on, holding the bouquet with a death grip, picking at the flowers to make sure that they looked their absolute best—that they deserved to be held in his favorite girl’s hands. 

Standing in the elevator, his heart dropped at each ding. It was a sound that he had never gotten used to, one that haunted him as he slept, taunting him as if to say that the minutes were counting down—the minutes losing their value, the minutes he had left with her decreasing. 

Despite how much he loathed the noise, how he wished he could shut it all off, make time stop just so he could have an infinite amount of moments by her side—he knew that life would come to the point in which he’d hear that sound one last time. A point in which he’d leave the building and never have a reason to return. 

As he approached the room he knew all too well, Atsumu brought his hand up to a light knock on the door, giving her a little heads up that he was there, that he didn’t forget about her even though he’d maintained his constant routine for months now. 

“Is that the famous Miya Atsumu I hear?” Y/N’s melodious voice called out, knowing all too well that her beloved boyfriend had arrived to harass her. Her already enlarged heart grew bigger at the sight of his brown eyes and golden hair that she’d always try to spot on the court.

While the world admired him for his physical beauty, she knew him for the beauty inside. The beauty that she was so blessed to see, the real personality that was reserved for her and her alone—not even Osamu had seen him so gentle, so caring. 

“Yer favorites,” he held out the bouquet to her in a regal manner, presenting it as if she were a queen and it was her crown. His dramatics sent her into a fit of giggles, accepting the flowers with a scoff as he rose up to press a soft kiss on her awaiting lips. 

“I saw you.” She whispered, pulling him down to meet her smile once more, relishing in the feeling of their love connecting. It was a feeling that she was addicted to, one that she longed for whenever he was away. “I saw you and the stupid little heart that you flash me on television.”

Atsumu helped her move over on the hospital bed, making enough room for him to lay down beside her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his head resting on top of hers. “Stupid? You sound like the rest of ‘em.”

“No one would be calling it stupid if they knew what it meant.” He pinched her cheeks, puckering her lips to a pout and kissing her over and over again. “If they knew I only do it because I want my girl to be proud of me.”

He sighed, holding her as if she would disappear if he let go, his fear of losing her of greater importance than any public opinion or false story. His fears being valid and reasonable as neither of them knew how much time they had left—how much time they had left to be totally and completely in love. 

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

The Iron Man and the Pie Man (or 'why I feel the way I do about Manchester United') via /r/LiverpoolFC

The Iron Man and the Pie Man (or 'why I feel the way I do about Manchester United')

This is a story about sportsmanship by a referee, and lack of sportsmanship by a Manchester United player. Like many Liverpool fans, I would go to Anfield whenever I could, including testimonials. The first time I ever went to Anfield was 13th May 1974. Liverpool had won the FA Cup on 4th May, Bill Shankly was planning to surprise everyone by retiring, and a quick glance at who was relegated from the (then) First Division will quicken the heart of any Red.

It was a testimonial game for Ron Yeats, and featured Bobby Charlton playing for Celtic. You can read more about that game here and here. Anfield only missed out on its first sight of Kenny Dalglish because of upcoming International games, but the ground resonated to the veneration of two mighty Scots, Jock Stein and Bill Shankly.

The visiting Celtic fans (at least 10,000, including at least 11 sober) created a carnival atmosphere, singing Shankly's name in reverence to the tune of Amazing Grace. The Kop responded by singing "Jock Strap" in the same way. Celtic won easily and this account explains what actually happened on the pitch and on the terraces. Did Ron Yeats actually score in his own testimonial (or was it a Tranmere player?)

Anyway, Bobby Charlton was (and is) a legend, and he scored a trademark thunderbolt goal. So it was no surprise that Tommy Smith invited Charlton to pick the 11 players to act as the opposition in Tommy's testimonial played some three years later.

It was the 27th May 1977 and Liverpool had won the league (by one point from City), lost the FA Cup Final to you know who and had just won their first European Cup a couple of days before. You can imagine the atmosphere at Anfield!

My recollection is that at every home game, the same supporter would climb out of the Kop, run onto the pitch, take off his jacket and kick his jacket into the goal at the Kop end, the crowd would cheer and he would raise his hands in celebration! He'd put his jacket back on, and disappear back into the anonymity of the Kop. Such was the thrill of scoring at the Kop end!

A dream for any Liverpool supporter, but for one fan the dream was about to become a reality. A new type of TV show had been launched, called The Big Time. Today, the format is a cliche, but at the time it was groundbreaking. Ordinary people such as Sheena Easton got the chance to do professionally what they did as amateurs. Sheena became a star and learned a lot from her relationship with Prince but another episode featured a Scouser, Lol Cottrell.

Lol was an amateur player in Liverpool, a red man (and allegedly delivered Sayer's pies to Melwood). The pitch of the show was that Lol would be coached by the likes of Tommy Smith, Denis Law, Jimmy Hill and the legendary Bill Shankly for two weeks, and then get to pull on the red shirt and play at Anfield.

As these events happened more than 40 years ago, and the TV episode is not on YouTube, I am relying on my memory. But my memory is that Tommy Smith put Lol on a strict diet to help him lose weight, even though the game was a testimonial and he wouldn't have to do too much running. Anyone who saw Tommy Smith play can vouch for how much running Tommy did. Im pretty sure Tommy represented both England and 'Team America' so there is that.

The show showed Tommy "coaching" Lol, which involved Tommy showing his uncompromising side. Anyone who has seen Tommy play will know that he was Liverpool's enforcer, a hard man, or the "Iron Man". (Mind you, Jimmy Case was no slouch, either). After one weekend, Tommy weighed Lol. The scales showed that Lol had been on the sauce. Or perhaps the pies. Or the sauce and the pies. Lol swore that he hadn't over-indulged, to which Tommy replied "You're lying to me, but you can't lie to yourself". Shankly-esque.

Anyway, fast forward to the game and Liverpool pull a shock playing Clemence up front. This report claims Clemence scored two in a 9:9 result, but other reports claim that the final score was 3:3. No VAR then!

Anyway, part way through the second half, on comes Lol Cottrell, pulling on a red shirt and running out at Anfield front of a full house. A dream for many of us. There are two incidents that stick in my mind. One is someone passed to Lol on the edge of the box. The ball was waist high, and he decided to head it from outside the penalty area with a diving header. The opposition goalkeeper was Alex Stepney (of Manchester United), who made a good save. The crowd barely recognized this overweight player, applauded his invention.

Towards the end of the game, the referee saw an incident that no one else in the ground had seen, and awarded a penalty to Liverpool. It was just as well there was no VAR at that time, as the ref was the only person to see a foul or transgression of any rule. The referee had awarded the penalty in order to fulfill Lol's dream of scoring at Anfield, in a red shirt, in front of the Kop.

Lol stepped up, eyeballed Stepney, and looked behind him at the 14,000 Kopites willing him to score.

He missed it.

Although at the time I did not wear glasses, my eyesight was not as good as the referee, who had spotted encroachment by the opposition players into the penalty area, something that no one else in the ground had spotted. The referee duly ordered the kick to be taken again.

We can only imagine what was going through Lol's head. His heart would have been thumping out of his chest. This is it lad. The crowd were laughing. "Come on lad! put it away!" Stepney would have been giving him the eye. He had famously saved at the feet of Eusebio in 1968, just 12 months after Celtic became the first British club to win the European Cup.

Lol stepped up, hit it, and Stepney saved it.

He saved it.

Stepney was interviewed after the game about his lack of sportsmanship. His response was

"I wasn't going to be beaten by an amateur"

I will translate that from the Klingon into English. My ego was so big, my heartlessness so complete, I refused to help realise the dream of a humble supporter. Here is a write up that mentions a 3:3 result and also claims that Lol subsequently assaulted a referee in the Sunday league and got a lifetime ban a couple of years later.

Of course, it would be a big leap to say that Lol's anger and frustration of being remembered as the guy who missed two penalties in front of the Kop in a televised game affected him for the rest of his life. I hope not. But what I can say that that was the point where rivalry with Manchester United toggled from being just another rival, like Leeds or Nottingham Forest, into a more intense dislike. Other words may also apply.

So there you are. The pie man and the iron man. Was the result 3:3 or 9:9? What happened to Lol Cottrell? If any of you know, let me know in the thread below. If any of you remember the lad who used to kick his jacket into the goal that would be great, too

Let's hope that we show that we are more like Bobby Charlton than Alex Stepney!

Submitted January 16, 2020 at 12:22AM by Eric_Clanton via reddit https://ift.tt/2tltilq

[gadgetsrevv]

Inter Milan host Juventus in Derby d’Italia, but whose side is Conte on?

Antonio Conte admits that facing Juventus, the team he captained and coached, will be “emotional.” How could it be any other way after 17 years in black and white? But when the Derby d’Italia kicks off on Sunday (stream live on ESPN+, 2:45 p.m. ET), the Inter coach claims the moment will pass and his old club will become “just another opponent.”

In the away dugout, Maurizio Sarri cannot boast the same connection. He’d have to have been living under a rock, though, to fail to appreciate the significance of this game to both sets of supporters. The Tuscan is spot on when he says “Juve-Inter isn’t a game like the others” but the anticipation for this one is even higher than usual.

Inter have made a perfect start to the season in Serie A, taking maximum points from the opening six games for the first time since 1966 — a season that ended in heartbreak. Juventus, still undefeated, are only two points back and chasing. Both are playing well, and while the game comes in early in the season, Sarri, and particularly Conte, have had time to impose themselves on their teams.

It is the closest Juventus and Inter have been to each other heading into a Derby d’Italia since December 2017, the last time the Nerazzurri were alone at the top of the table. Unlike then, there is a confidence and conviction that they can go the distance this season. Conte’s reputation as a serial winner, the best Inter summer transfer window in years and the radical nature of Juventus’ makeover under Sarri, have led to a feeling that the playing field is more level than in recent years. Unlike Rudi Garcia’s Roma and Sarri’s Napoli, who emerged as surprise contenders, Conte winning the league would match expectation and the standards he sets himself.

– Horncastle: Serie A’s surprise stars so far – Robson: Inter’s hopes might rest on the shoulders of Lukaku

Inter’s start has only reinforced the conviction that Sarri will be given little margin for error in his first season at Juventus. In England, Conte figured things out quicker than Pep Guardiola at City, Jose Mourinho at Manchester United and Jurgen Klopp at Liverpool. By the time they got settled in their new jobs, his Chelsea side were already out of sight.

As such, the onus is on Sarri, still yet to win a major league title, to show he can not only keep Juventus at the top but validate the club’s decision to repudiate its own mantra — a credo Conte and Massimiliano Allegri lived by.

Winning is no longer the only thing that counts to Juventus. How you win does, too. A draw this weekend will be easier for Conte to spin as progress given the ground his new club have had to make up on Juve since they last won something in 2011. It would also keep Inter top. Conte will go for the jugular though, which brings us to the main peculiarity and source of greatest curiosity around this game.

Whose side are you on?

At the launch of Inter’s new third kit last month, supporters sang a familiar song. “Chi non salta Juventino e! e!” Who doesn’t jump is a Juventus fan. All eyes were on Conte. His feet did not leave the ground.

Memories of his reaction when the Juventus side he captained beat Inter to the title on the final day of the 2001-02 season die hard. “There’s little to say, other than we’re loving it,” he said. “This is for the bitterness we felt in Perugia [in 2000] and there’s someone who was in Perugia that day who is watching.” That someone was an Inter legend in the making, Marco Materazzi, who admonished Conte for a lack of class and suggested Juventus use their winnings to buy him a toupee.

Conte has set old allegiances aside. He is a professional, and caused some consternation as coach of Juventus when he said he’d have no problem whatsoever working for Inter one day in the future. He likes to say he becomes the No. 1 fan of whoever he works for (Lecce born, we shouldn’t forget he coached Bari) and the coolness between Juve and Conte since he left helps a little too.

The 50-year-old has always loomed as the biggest threat to his old club. His decision to suddenly resign in 2014 when preseason had already started, limiting Juventus’ time and choice to line up a successor threatened to compromise everything. That it all worked out well in the end under Allegri did not change that, and the frostiness has still not completely thawed.

Now he is charged with taking a sledgehammer to the house that he built with Beppe Marotta, the former Juventus chief executive who was ousted in a reshuffle a year ago and is now heading up Inter’s recruitment. Pavel Nedved, Juve vice president, raised eyebrows last December when he said of Marotta: “He’s a pro, but maybe he never was a Juventus fan.”

The matchup of Maurizio Sarri and Antonio Conte is one of the most intriguing elements of this weekend’s Derby d’Italia.

If you can’t beat ’em …

The sight of Sarri chewing on a cigarette filter as he stalks the Juventus technical area is every bit as odd as seeing Conte on the Inter bench. When linked with them in 2017, Sarri said: “I’ve called my lawyer to see if there are grounds for legal action.”

After encouraging his Napoli players to “storm the palace” and overthrow the establishment, Sarri now works for them. It’s as if Che Guevara married into a royal family.

Pupil against master

Pushed out by Juventus last year, Marotta is now in competition with his prodigy Fabio Paratici, who, credited with signing Cristiano Ronaldo, was promoted in his place.

The pair worked together for 15 years and the split has not been without tension. Paratici’s revelation that he wanted to “cause complete chaos” by giving the impression Juventus intended to sign Mauro Icardi — “obviously not my real objective” — was uncalled for and “out of place” in Marotta’s opinion.

Juventus were perceived to be making life hard for Inter over the summer: first by trading Leonardo Spinazzola for Luca Pellegrini, which meant Roma were no longer under financial fair play pressure to sell Edin Dzeko to the Nerazzurri, then by the sudden and inexplicable attempt to hijack their €80m move for Manchester United striker Romelu Lukaku.

When the window closed, it felt like the master (Marotta) had taught his pupil (Paratici) a lesson. Juventus may have bought well, but that’s only half the job. Marotta not only signed Lukaku, Stefano Sensi, Nicolo Barella and Diego Godin, he managed to offload Icardi, Radja Nainggolan and Ivan Perisic. Selling did not go as well for Paratici, who tried and failed to move on Paulo Dybala and Mario Mandzukic among others, leaving Juventus and Sarri with a big squad to keep happy and a balance sheet redder than they perhaps would have liked.

And the academy award for best director goes to …

Juventus and Inter use deep-lying playmakers in the best tradition of the regista role. Miralem Pjanic has made headlines for scoring from outside the area in back-to-back games, but his evolution in front of the defence continues apace under Sarri.

Juventus’ new coach wants him to have 150 touches a game and his passing is more incisive than under Allegri, who wanted the Bosnian to get the ball out wide. Now Pjanic has more angles to play with and more teammates taking up narrow positions between the lines up ahead.

Conte, meanwhile, has benefited from the work predecessor Luciano Spalletti did in the past 18 months in converting Marcelo Brozovic to a similar role. The 26-year-old has matured and is more careful on the ball, but the safety net of three centre-backs behind the Croatian has also encouraged him to be more daring. Sensi’s arrival means Brozovic has someone as good in possession to take some of the attention away from him, not to mention a reference point to play to between the lines.

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Rambo and Sensi-bility

Aaron Ramsey missed a lot of preseason recovering from the injury he suffered in Arsenal’s Europa League quarterfinal against Napoli in April. Sarri’s tendency to pick an XI and stick with it didn’t bode well for a new signing who wasn’t fit for the start of the campaign. But Ramsey has not only scored a debut goal and carved out a place for himself in the team, he has persuaded Sarri to experiment with him as a No. 10 in a 4-3-1-2, the implementation of which has coincided with Juventus playing better football, scoring more goals and conceding fewer.

His impact has not been as great as Sensi’s for Inter, though, with the 24-year-old emerging as a star of the best midfield the club has had since the Treble in 2010.

Rom vs. Ron

Weirdly, they could have been playing together against Inter on Sunday. Lukaku scored on his debut and has three goals in six games, including a fine header in the Milan derby, without playing particularly well. A limited preseason, a bad back and now an issue with his quad have held back the overall performances of the Belgian striker. Inter need him to recover in time given Alexis Sanchez is suspended.

Ronaldo, on the other hand, has found the net nine times in nine games for club and country this season. He has scored in every Juventus home game and set up gilt-edged chances for Ramsey and Sami Khedira that weren’t taken against SPAL. It helps that Gonzalo Higuain and Dybala, the assist man for his past two goals, are creating chances for him.

Still Ronaldo has cut a frustrated figure at times, as was the case in Florence and before his goal last weekend. When Juventus’ passing game hasn’t functioned, he’s looked isolated. When it has worked, he hasn’t always been a participant; the team can get caught in the moment of some of Sarri’s mesmeric passing patterns going wherever the game takes them, which isn’t always to him.

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[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW4 - Walsh Wildcard Edition

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

*AND* New starting this week we’re gonna do a Slacker of the Week Lambs, someone randomly selected from our Patreon Slack channel each week, and this week it’s Rai from Slack great lad and on wildcard too with Walsh...

This week it was not random I have to admit but every week for the rest of the season it’ll be random. Get in.

—

WALSH - On Wildcard

TRANSFERS:

Wildcard

GK:

Pope (LIV)

Pope retains his spot and seems like a great long term hold. BAPs for every clean is great and he's great. Burnley look back to basics and have had great underlying defensive stats.

DEF:

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (bur)

Trent and Robbo also retain their spots from the old guard team.

I debated over whether to go with d33n instead of r0bbo but in the end I just trust Livp a lot more than I trust Everton and I just want to keep Robbo.

The literal worst thing I did last season was remove Robbo from my GW1 team after the first handful of games and so I'm trying to learn from past mistakes for some reason. His stats look great and he has looked great so I am sticking with him. Obv Adrian is a bit of a nutter and a lot worse than Alisson but these two fullbacks are still the creative cogs for Livp and still seem like great picks.

Laporte (BHA)

Slotting in alongside is Laporte.

I really want to have a share of the City defense and now that my break glass is gone I don't want to fuck around with Zinc or some other cuck. Laporte is as safe as safe comes and seems like a guy I could just not look at or worry about for months. See a pattern here?

MID:

Salah (bur)

Mo sticks obv. Nothing to say about that.

Sterling & De Bruyne (BHA)

Raz and Kevin are in alongside and also picks that don't really need much explanation.

Alon did float an interesting idea to go Kun over Kevin for the next couple little miniwindow of good fixtures but in the end I just didn't want to take on that risk when I view Kevin as just a guy I could hold for months.

Now that my triple City and triple Pool are out there in the open, it's time to get into the dross.

Cantwell (whu)

Cantwell is in... and although his underlying stats are questionable at best given his high points total so far... he still seems like a no brainer option right now. I have no clue how long he'll keep it up, but at his price I'll find out.

McGinn (cry)

Finally, I'm going with McGinn to round out the midfield.

I don't feel greattttt about him, but they've got pretty good fixtures in the near term and he seems to be in and around a lot of what they do so far. Villa look like they are somewhat reasonable going forward and after a nice performance against Everton maybe they will be able to score some goals in this good run.

Certainly not a long term pick here, but he'll do for now.

FWD:

Pukki (whu)

Pukki is still in... nothing to see here.

Haller (NOR)

Next to him is Haller.

He looks good and looks to be justifying the preseason hype. Realistically I was looking at him or Mount as my last call to make. I'm not sure I'm going the right direction with Haller and McGinn but it seems like an okay gamble to go for the upside play with West Ham up against NOR, avl in the next two. 

Mount seems like a better long term pick, but with a tricky next few I'll go without for a little and then reassess. Haller might also just be the truth. Pod partner loved the fuck out of him preseason, so that's a good sign. He might just be great and wetspam, as we know, are not built to defend.

BENCH:

Lundstram (che)

Rico (lei)

Nketiah (TOT)

Avert your eyes. I'm on Lundy, Rico, and Necktie.

Oh yeah and Woodman the legend.

I know the likes of Button may be in better standing with the price changes but I will not be bullied into getting rid of my Championship players. I will not stand for that. Anyway, this bench is fucking bad, but I think I'll be able to get away with it for a little bit. Lund will rotate a bit with Cantwell. Seems fine. Rico...I have no fucking idea what Edward is doing but it seems like Rico has a better chance than Kelly to have a job for more than another couple of games. Or he won't play another minute this season - who is to say.

I have no delusions about this, I will need to do something about this nightmare group at some point, but that point is not now. The biggest risk of my team is probably how absurdly bad the bench is so we'll see if that comes back to fuck me over or not.

CAP:

Sterling (BHA)

I'll be on Raz. Pretty straightforward and not going to overthink it. Should batter Brighton - hopefully he'll be in with a return or two.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Pérez, Richarlison, Gomez

IN (for -4 points hit): Mount, De Bruyne, Emerson

Clearly if your name ends in a zed then you’re straight out my fucking team.

But in actuality these moves kinda wrote themselves... I had exactly four bad picks in my side after last GW and I’m off to a solid start. Three of them are now dealt with via guys that I like short term and long term and my last bad guy, Gerry D, has a fabulous fixture so just praying on that one.

First hit of the season I have to say does not feel as thrilling as I thought it might. It kinda feels like the beginning of the end??? But I’m trying to not be dramatic about it.

GK:

Ederson (BHA)

Potter is a clever lad and gave City a scare in the cup last season but as long as Pep takes his head out of his ass and starts ‘Dinho or Rodrigo then this should be a straightforward clean.

If neither start then I’m genuinely scared and might start thinking about moving away from City defense.

DEF:

van Dijk (bur)

Liverpool haven’t cleaned home or away vs. Burnley in a long ass time and it’s understandable why. They’re tough, they’re annoying, they throw bodies around, Barnes and Wood are good, McNeil is good, Gudmundsson is pretty good, etc etc... But still, this should be a clean, and Matip’s aerial prowess will be very useful... I wonder if this is the game Gomez starts over Trent at RB for another big boy to win headers and shit? TBD.

Digne (WOL)

Should be an easy clean here. Wolves have been the worst attack in the division thus far and I see no reason for that to really turn around.

Wolves will park and barely attack and as long as Everton don’t get caught with their pants at their ankles on a Jota/Jim counter then it should be a clean. And maybe Digne will dazzle us with another worldy FK like he hit in the cup.

Nightmare for all of our eyes that this match is one of the two featured matches on Sunday. It will be a disgusting viewing experience.

Söyüncü (BOU)

Leicester have been very tight to start the season and getting Ndidi back fit is gigantic for their cleansheet prospects. I like Leicester to control this game and allow Bournemouth very little... Söy is the fucking man I love him.

Emerson (SHU)

Last but not least is the first new boy into my team, Emerson gets SHU at home.

it should be a relatively straight forward clean but I say that and they’re still without Kante and Rudiger so ugh who the fuck knows... They did a great job shutting down Norwich for the final ~60 minutes of that match and I’m hoping they continue with that form.

Emerson also has been on the ball constantly for Chelsea and creating and shooting and everything good so here here to an attacking return.

MID:

Salah (bur)

It’s sorta weird how some people are still slagging off Mo and avoiding him on wildcard and he’s not been talked about for captaincy at all. I don’t get it but whatever. He’s simply the best attacker in the league and best fantasy player in the game for the third year running. /shrug.

Sterling & De Bruyne (BHA)

Welcome to the team Kevin!! Been talking about him a lot on basically every pod this season so far so it’s nice to finally have the boy in my team.

City attack are best in the world and I feel like Sterling is the biggest piece of it you can get in one player and conversely for 9.5 the value of Kevin is just incredible. 200 points coming as usual for Kev barring injury: book it.

Mount (SHU)

Mount, another new boy and another pod darling, coming straight the fuck in...

The fixtures following Sheff U. are brutal but he’s just been so fucking good. Eye test and stats and everything about him make him very easy to love from the FPL perspective. Shooting a ton and it’s not hard to imagine another goal on the break vs. Sheff U.

FWD:

Pukki (whu)

Duh Pukki easy. Dynamite fixture should be a wide open crazy game. Can’t wait.

Deulofeu (new)

The aforementioned last shitty guy in my team is this guy.

Gerry has looked pretty good in last couple and had very nice stats vs. West Ham last week.

With Deeney out hurt you’d imagine Gerry goes back up top and hopefully Sarr comes in for Hughes and maybe Watford get going this week... They really have not been as bad as their points column shows so far. Bounce back for me lad.

BENCH:

Greenwood (sou)

Hayden (WAT)

Maitland-Niles (TOT)

CAP:

Pukki (whu)

I really foresee this being an absolute barnburner no defense yolo high-scoring face-fuck of a match and Pukki is the absolute center of everything that Norwich do scoring wise - assisting goals and scoring goals. I’m expecting a double return with an upside of more...

It’s risky and punty seeing how Sterling and other City players will makeup the huuuuuuuge percentage of caps this week but the one thing, maybe only thing?, about Sterling or Kun or Kevin vs. Pukki is that City can score 5 and one of those guys can blank... We’ve seen it happen before... I don’t really see a world where Norwich score 2+ and Pukki isn’t heavily involved....... I’m riding the hottest player in the league against a bottom 3-5 defense in the league. It’s not that crazy... right?!?!?

Hold me.

—

RANDOM SLACKER OF THE WEEK: RAI - On Wildcard

The words of Random Slacker are not officially endorsed by this website nor any employees of FML FPL LLC.

TRANSFERS:

Wildcard

GK:

Pope (LIV)

An easy pick despite a less than ideal first fixture. Turf Moor is back to being a FOOKIN' FORTRESS and BUR keepers are always golden for FPL.

RIP Leno my sweet prince.

DEF:

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (bur)

Most managers started with at least 2 pool defenders and how we react to their lack of cleans defines what kind of manager you are.

I've personally gone for the 9000 IQ move of buying Robbo back for 0.1 cheaper and I look forward to their inevitable attacking returns (and hopefully some cleans too).

Digne (WOL)

Every time I watch Everton play they look unfathomably awful but Digne keeps punishing me with an endless stream of cleans, dongs, and assists.

I had him in my draft before the absurd Carabao free kick and that cemented his place for me. Just like the Pool boys Digne is a friend with benefits: a defender, offering multiple ways to slap your anus beyond cleans.

MID:

Sterling & De Bruyne (BHA)

I'm all in on City this wildcard, their mini-run of BHA nor WAT is arguably their tastiest run of the season and if there's any time to triple on City attack it feels like now.

Not much to say about these two that you don't know already but I fully expect Kevin to break his duck and score his first dong this season at home to Brighton.

Mount (SHU)

Mount is looking like the cheap value mid on a top team that we all wanted Perez to be. He is showing a Lampard-esque knack of knowing when to make late runs to pick up goals. His price point and Chelsea's medium term fixtures make him a no brainer.

Cantwell (whu)

Interlinks with Pukki well. A pure value pick with a nice attacking fixture this week.

FWD:

Agüero (BHA)

Jesus is out for at least this fixture which hopefully means a 90 minute fuck fest for Kun. I'm hoping Pep utilizes Jesus mainly for their predictably easy UCL group. Funding Kun has meant sacrificing a Pool mid which is obviously a huge risk but ultimately I'm having fun and Kun is fun.

Haller (NOR)

A definite bandwagon pick this week but the Frenchman is proving hard to ignore particularly for all of us on wildcard.

He has a nice couple of fixtures and there are plenty of strikers priced just below him to move to if it doesn't work out.

Pukki (whu)

I delayed slightly in signing Pukki and my rank plummeted faster than a piss towel so I won't be doubting the master plan again.

He's looking like the Jimi of this season.

BENCH:

Lundstram (che)

OOP cheap lad, nothing more to say here.

Söyüncü (BOU)

Considered Kelly in this spot but Söy is much more nailed and a cheap way into a solid team.

Elneny (TOT)

Non-playing 3rd bench at 4.4 mil, if I had the extra 0.1 then this would be Dendoncker.

CAP:

Agüero (BHA)

One downside of triple City attack is having no idea who to cap.

A chance of 90 minutes of Kun is hard to ignore and I’m going with the big balls play here.

[changspain]

The game of the century

I woke up to a roasting tent, covered in sweat and for a moment thought me and Luke may have had a moment of passion at 3am last night. I crawled out of my sleeping bag that had the appeal of a used condom and exited the tent sauna into a world of dazzling sunlight. Luke was already up and had eaten a breakfast of scrambled eggs that JUGB had cooked before leaving earlier that morning. The hedonistic dancing seemed an age ago and I was faced with a rather more hostile environment, it was probably 35 degrees and the scorched earth offered no possibility of respite, I also found that we had maybe 500ml of water between three of the thirstiest boys in Northern Spain. We quickly decided to drive to the nearest town for water, food and electricity – it also didn’t take us long to callously decide to abandon JUGB and Ivy in the wilderness, waterless and car-less. We justified the inhumanity by agreeing we would return soon with supplies, probably before they returned from climbing, but we all knew this wasn’t true. It was roasting hot, we were hungover and were being very selfish. We hopped in an equally hot car and the black seats burnt my skin slightly, we then bumped along our personal rally course until we hit the flawless tarmac of the main road. Living in the countryside I was used to small, bendy roads that could see you drive into the ditch to avoid other cars and I sped round the corners enjoying the hire car’s modern steering and suspension. I wouldn’t describe myself as a fan of cars or driving, but if there was a place to make you fall in love with driving it would be Spain. The combination of long, sweeping corners with stunning natural backdrops and immaculate roads was addictive. The nearest town was Balaguer and it was only a 15 minute drive, we pulled up onto one of the main streets and started looking for a café with power sockets and wifi.

A short way down the road we came across a few families stood outside what initially looked like a bar, we peered in to scout for wifi but instead found a large indoor futsal pitch full of parents and kids packed into rafters. There was maybe a crowd of 400, and they were a very rowdy 400. The odd group of kids would occasionally stand up and begin a pre-arranged chant or a rogue parent would leap up and cheer – miles away from the lone bald parent stood in a drench coat on a drizzly day in November calling the referee a fat cunt. I couldn’t resist entering the stadium and there was something about the electric atmosphere and the fact that we were in Spain that dragged Luke and Seamus in as well. We climbed up the first few rows, still unsure whether it was somehow illegal for us to be there or whether we looked like some very brave paedophiles. We clearly weren’t anyone’s parents especially as Seamus was the only ginger person in the stadium and probably the town as well. We settled down next to a team of about 10 kids, all wearing some flash black kits, and their parents. I looked towards the game properly for the first time, it appeared to be a standard futsal match and the kids were maybe 12 or 13, the age when some kids look about 4 and others look about 23, one kid could have probably beaten up the entire stadium he was that much of a truck[1]. There were lots of teams milling about but they were sweaty so had clearly already played, the match currently on seemed to be the final of some kind of tournament, judging by the players’ attitudes and the roaring crowd. I explained the differences between futsal and normal 11-a-side to Luke and Seamus, throwing in the various piece of analysis on the game: “he should have played it faster”, “he’s too square, watch him get skinned.”, “that child over there is clearly a man squashed into an XS football kit.”. As the game progressed the tension rose, and at half time it was 1 all. The black team had been leading but then the purple team equalised about 5 minutes until the break. The quality of football was generally high, with each team clearly being coached to a very high standard; there was a distinct lack of pop shots or poor attitudes that are staples of the British game. Every child was also technically very good; however, some were also quick or strong and they dominated the small sided game. As the second half went on it became clear there were three main players that became our favourites: a tall, skinny boy who played as a lone striker for the black team, a nippy striker for the purple team and a short, rugged defender for the purple team. The lone striker for the black team was very much their one redeeming feature in my eyes, the rest of the team was filled with bog-standard midfielders and a big, fat central defender who couldn’t pick a pass to save his life but got away with enough fouls to be effective. On the other hand, the lone back striker had an unbelievable touch and had a very handy knack of coming in off the lone defender, into a false 9 role[2] and either turning to attack the back line or laying it off then running in behind. He was also very happy to beat a man one on one, the best of which saw him receive the ball, back to goal, on the side line and Bolasie flick a very unsuspecting member of the purple team. At the sight of this skill I went wild but the Spanish crowd seemed unimpressed with the flair and were clearly more interested in seeing some decent passing. After humiliating the first player, he ball-rolled the second then laced a shot about a foot wide, he seemed disappointed but if I had even done the first step in the sequence I would already be in a car on the way home to wank about it. Unfortunately, he got injured early in the second half and only reappeared with about two minutes to go.

10 minutes into the second half and a long ball was played deep into the purple’s defensive third, the keeper made a vague attempt to collect the ball but misjudged the flight and was caught way into no man’s land, the lone defender made the decision to try and head the ball away[3] but also misjudged the flight and instead deftly headed the ball past the keeper into his own net. This goal was completely against the run of play and the defender fell to his knees in despair, a la John Terry in the Champions League penalty shoot-out. His teammates responded well: running to his aid, apart from the rugged short, defender who was on the bench who proceeded to stamp his feet and shout “idiota”. The defender who had scored the own goal was inconsolable and 1 minute later the coach added insult to injury by taking him off, essentially saying “this is your fucking fault”. The other rugged defender was brought on in his place and as they passed each other on the touchline, the villain of the day attempted to shake hands, but this was met by a death stare and a push from the rugged defender. As sad as this was for the purple team, it also spelled the beginning of the end for the black team. As the purples were deep in a pit of despair, out rose their hero – the hero they never asked for, but the hero the needed. Like Batman, on came purple 11 (the rugged defender) and did the things nobody else could do and he became more than a child – a symbol. Purple 11 had an instant impact. During the second half, a beefy lone striker had been terrorising the purple back line through sheer power and aggression but as the first long ball was played in purple 11 sprinted past the striker in black and leapt like a salmon to header the ball clear out of the lowered pitch and into the stands. He then nonchalantly trotted back to the edge of D to the stunned looks of the big striker. The consequent throw in was fired into the big striker’s feet again and he controlled well with a Cruyff turn but purple 11 was in like a steam engine and took the ball and all of the man as well. Both players leapt up and the black striker pushed purple 11, who was probably half his size, but purple 11 reacted with such tenacity that the big striker instantly turned away and walked off to the sound of purple 11’s tirade of verbal abuse. The crowd jeered purple 11 for his poor sportsmanship but he didn’t even flinch. He very much embodied the grit of Tony Pulis’ Stoke City team or the will of Jaap Stam defending a 1-0 lead. Purple 11 instantly became our favourite player, in a game full of delicate flicks and crisp passing he completely dominated the physical side of the game and for the rest of the half he controlled the entire pace of the game through passing and aggression when without possession. His performance very much begged the question: Why wasn’t he on from the start? But the answer was also very obvious when observing his behaviour to not only the black team, but also his.

It became clear later into the second half, with the black team boasting a 2-1 lead, that the home crowd were fully behind the black team who I assume were the local side. The crowd was silenced with 10 minutes to go when the nippy purple striker took the ball whilst running down a channel, cut in, cut back and hammered the ball into the side of the net past a very handy keeper. The purple team went wild and the black team looked haplessly at their furious coach. The purple striker, who was the only player to stay on the pitch the entire time we were there, had the air of Lukaku, in the sense that he would selflessly run the channels but also would fire of a lethal shot at any point. As the half progressed and the score remained 2-2 the crowd remained crestfallen, it was clear the purple team were superior and without the black team’s quality striker to challenge purple 11 they were all out of ideas. With 5 minutes to go another ball was played into the white Lukaku and he beat his marker with a deft flick and sheer pace round the corner. He then collected the ball in the corner and fake-shotted a few times to buy some time. He then crossed into the alleyway of uncertainty and a roaming midfielder volleyed against the post, it dropped back out to purple 11 who shot first time and brought out a decent save from the keeper. The rebound then fell invitingly back to the purple striker who had made his way back to the edge of the D and he smashed the ball above the keeper into the net. The few away ultras went into a frenzy as the two heroes, purple 11 and the striker hugged in the centre circle. The black team’s coach was ballistic and instantly subbed off the keeper for an extra player to try and dominate possession. The last 5 minutes were played out with the black team aimlessly passing it around the half way mark, with their attacking players offering no incisive runs, but with a defender like purple 11 marshalling the back line it was futile to even try to score. With the last kick of the game purple 11 made his 47th crunching tackle of the game and then played a through ball to the purple striker who finished calmly for his hattrick. The chubby, 18 year old ref blew the whistle and the game of the century was done.

[1] This particular child wasn’t brought on all game, I can only presume the coach believed he was too dangerous to be let loose on the other children. Instead, he prowled the side line giving the opposition bench sinister looks.

[2] This role definitely doesn’t exist in futsal.

[3] The correct decision.

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

Post-Match Day Thread: Sevilla 3 - 3 Liverpool via /r/LiverpoolFC

Post-Match Day Thread: Sevilla 3 - 3 Liverpool

Sevilla 3 - 3 Liverpool

Player Ratings

Player Rating Karius 6.46 Gomez 7.50 Lovren 7.26 Klavan 7.09 Moreno (62') 5.98 Coutinho (62') 7.48 Wijnaldum 6.35 Henderson 6.37 Salah (86') 7.84 Firmino 9.62 Mané 7.48 Can (62') 6.24 Milner (62') 5.90 Oxlade-Chamberlain (73') 6.08

Group E

Pos Team P GD Pts 1 Liverpool 5 10 9 2 Sevilla 5 0 8 3 Spartak Moscow 5 3 6 4 Maribor 5 -13 2

Match Events

Goals Roberto Firmino 2' 0-1 Sadio Mané 22' 0-2 Roberto Firmino 30' 0-3 Ben Yedder 51' 1-3 Ben Yedder 60' 2-3 Guido Pizarro 90+2' 3-3

Links Post-Match Thread - credit /u/lrk2003 Match Thread - credit /u/MatchThreadder Pre-Match Thread - credit /u/_cumblast_

Thoughts

Formation

I have to say I would have preferred Can or Milner in midfield over Wijnaldum. I know Can has had some (in my mind unfair) criticism of his performance over the last few weeks, but he does provide some defensive solidarity that I think we would miss against a very strong Sevilla side. Similarly, Milner would have provided some much needed experience in a key game. Apart from that, no complains.

Firmino First Goal

I've gone back to watch the build up to the goals in this game because the .gifs don't really tell the whole story. This game started relatively slowly, but we pressed high up and forced Sevilla into a couple of mistakes. The corner comes from a nice give and go between Mané and Salah, and the former chased down a lost ball to get the corner.

http://ift.tt/2iLHonQ

The goal itself is very simple. Coutinho just whips the ball in to the penalty spot, and Firmino is going to run off the back of his defender to the unmarked back post.

http://ift.tt/2B5fXvJ

Wijnaldum heads it down to the back post for Firmino to run on to - being critical he could have probably scored himself. Not that it mattered. Firmino slams home from a couple of yards out and we jump out to a 1-0 lead.

Mané Goal

Another corner, another goal. This one comes from Henderson winning the ball back high up, then playing a lovely pass through to Firmino. He misses the one on one but, as we will see, we get a goal anyway.

http://ift.tt/2iLHrA2

It's stunning how similar this goal is. Coutinho, again, whips it in to the penalty spot. Firmino this time gets a head on it. Mané this time is running off the back of his defender to the far post. A lovely diving header into the far post. Just as simple.

Firmino Second Goal

Moreno plays a lovely ball in behind for Mané to run on to.

http://ift.tt/2B5LaPt

The only point I wanted to make here was how close our front three were. This was a long ball, and everyone's within 15 yards of each other. That gives us the advantage for any rebounds or ricochets, and forces the defence into mistakes.

Half Time

Three nil up, apparently in complete control, but the stats would say different. Sevilla had 70% possession, over double our passes, and far superior pass accuracy. We were playing on the counter and our finishing was lethal. However, I think in retrospect the danger signs were there. Our midfield was poor. Henderson and Wijnaldum gave the ball away far too often, playing passes they didn't need to. I think we should have made a switch, and bring on an extra midfielder. For all his positives Coutinho isn't a defensive player. At 3-0 we didn't need to keep him on the pitch. Bringing on Milner or Can would have given us an extra man in the middle of the park who can shut down Sevilla.

Ben Yedder First Goal

http://ift.tt/2iLHsUC

As the ball is hit Ben Yedder is making a run across the line of defenders. Moreno, at the near post, cannot see him. Quite rightly his eyes are on the ball. Firmino and Lovren, in the centre, have watched him go. They aren't marking anyone. Sevilla haven't exactly loaded the box. One of them needs to go with him and make it difficult for him.

http://ift.tt/2B5fZUn

My only criticism of Moreno on this goal is that he jumps straight up instead of attacking the ball. This allows Ben Yedder to get in front of him and score.

As I said in the post-match thread, this is a systematic issue. We use zonal marking. Everyone was in their zones - Moreno at the near post, Klavan and Lovren in the middle, Firmino at the back post. Ben Yedder runs straight through these zones and everyone assumes they've done their job. It would be interesting to see if someone, anyone, gave Moreno a shout that Ben Yedder was coming. If he had maybe it would have been different.

Ben Yedder Second Goal

Ugh. This is mistake that if made by almost anyone else would be almost excused. I've rewatched the first 15 minutes of the second half and, genuinely, do not think Moreno was having a bad game. I've already said I don't think he's at fault for their first goal. He also saved a second just before this. Now, Coutinho sells him short, playing an overhit pass back to him in a difficult position.

http://ift.tt/2iLHtrE

So Moreno's being charged down by three people. I will say he should just put his foot through this. Boot it out of play on the far side if you have to. He's under pressure and tries to trap it. I guess he just takes his eye off the ball and it bounces off his heel.

http://ift.tt/2B5LbTx

Klavan has let his man get three yards on him. He should be tracking much closer to that, and might have been able to clear up if so.

http://ift.tt/2iKuA0R

It is, clearly, a penalty. Moreno makes no attempt to get the ball, and steps on the man's foot. You might say he goes down too easily, but I disagree. I think he has to go down to get the correct decision. In the background you can see the ref is pretty far away - the delay was, I believe, him speaking to his two assistants.

Pizarro Goal

And the capitulation is complete.

http://ift.tt/2B5g2j1

I've highlighted Pizarro. He starts on the far side of the box, pretty much unmarked. Firmino has a man, Henderson has a man, Ox has a man. Can and Gomez, however, are left with a choice of two.

http://ift.tt/2iLHw6O

As the ball is kicked a problem has already arisen. Pizarro has, once again, run across the front of our defensive line, and once again we haven't picked him up. Can is left in no man's land, Gomez has now got a guy on him, and Ox has let his man run behind him. This is poor.

http://ift.tt/2B5LduD

Klavan wins the header, but now Pizarro is in acres of space. Henderson and Ox have both lost their men and are marking nobody. Someone needed to step up and stop him. This is the problem with the zonal marking system, but Klopp has done very little to fix it in his tenure.

Control

Well, we never had it, Even at 3-0 at half time Sevilla were hitting on the break with regularity. Nobody put their foot on the ball to slow the game own. In fact, there was only that little period after the third goal (where Gomez had his altercation with the ball man) that we even attempted to time waste. This is where the naivety of this team comes through. A Chelsea or United team would have shut that game down, a City or Spurs team would have passed them to death, we did neither.

Perspective

Ask most people on Tuesday what we would need from the next two games, and I imagine most of them would have said a win and a draw. Hell, even two draws was enough. We all know that the performance changes things but a draw away at Sevilla is a good result. We should be able to beat Spartak at home - and if we can't then maybe we don't deserve a spot in the knockout stages.

Also, to anyone trying to coin "Sevillanbul" or whatever bullshit twitter has been spouting: I imagine if Milan had won the penalty shootout, or we had still won the league after Palace, then nobody would give a shit. We're still top of the group, we still hold our destiny, we will still win this group. Everyone seems to forget that we weren't favourites to do so, and having fucked up our last two appearances in the CL I think we can all be happy with the performance so far.

Chelsea

The big call is whether or not we recall Robertson. I don't think Moreno deserves the criticism he's been getting, but at the same time I can see Chelsea targeting him.

Mignolet Gomez Matip Lovren Robertson Wijnaldum Henderson Coutinho Salah Firmino Mané

Our next fixture is against Chelsea in the Premier League. The match kicks off on the 25th of November at 17:30PM(GMT)/12:30PM(ET).

Submitted November 23, 2017 at 01:43PM by voliton via reddit http://ift.tt/2mSFLc8