The man in the long black coat

Posted by Andy Badgeman

I haven’t been able to lift my head off the floor since the news of Kenny’s departure broke. I can’t even find the energy or motivation to go to the toilet. I’m simply laid on my bedsit floor in the foetal position in a pool of my own piss and tears. Crying tears of pain. Tears of loss. Tears of dejection.

Tears for Kenny.

My desolation becomes more intense the more I think about what has happened to my King. My hero. The head of my family. He has been cast aside in the most ruthless manner. And now we must walk through the storm alone. Walk on. Walk on.

In the dark.

Yes, I’m afraid of the dark today. And I can’t see a golden sky at the end of the storm. I no longer hear the sweet silver song of the lark. Because my dreams have been tossed and blown.

When I think of Kenny’s long black coat hanging lonely on a coat hanger in the sacred wardrobe of the King I cry some more. Just hanging there. No longer needed by modern football. Never to be called upon to keep us warm against the icy wind blowing our way. The Baltic blast of Mr Ferguson, the biased media and the evil at the FA. No longer being asked to sit on the enormous shoulders of the King. Shoulders that carried this great football club - Liverpool football club – away from the burning building of pain. A coat no longer being asked to protect the wrists of the chosen one. Wrists that spilled blood for the cause.

Crickets are chirpin' the water is high
There's an adidas coat on the line hangin' dry
Window wide open African trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze
Not a word of goodbye not even a note
He’s gone. The man in the long black coat.

Somebody seen him hangin' around
At JLA on the outskirts of town
He looked into our eyes when we stopped him to ask
If he wanted to stay he had a face like a mask
Somebody said from the bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat.

Preacher was talking there's a sermon he gave
He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When it's you who must keep it satisfied
It ain't easy to swallow it sticks in the throat
We gave our heart to the man in the long black coat.

There are no mistakes in life some people say
It is true sometimes you can see it that way
But people don't live or die people just float
We stand with the man in the long black coat.

There's smoke on the water it's been there since June
Tree trunks unprooted beneath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horse
He never said nothing there was nothing he wrote
He’s gone. The man in the long black coat.

Reply by Rick Ticketnicker

Fantastic tribute to the King there mate. I couldn’t have said it better myself. I’ve been crying floods of real, genuine tears since the announcement was made too. My wife and two kids are beside themselves. There is simply no point in carrying on anymore. I’m just hooking up the hose pipe to the cavalier in the garage and then we’re all going to pay our personal tribute to the King by inhaling enormous amounts of carbon dioxide. Thanks modern football.

Reply by Club shop wool

I feel like a poorly maintained brick wall in my heart has been pushed down today. I feel worse than when I had several weeks of intense chemotherapy. Much much worse. I would go through the latter stages of advanced and aggressive stomach cancer if only it would bring the King back. But it wouldn’t. Because the FA wouldn’t allow it to happen.

Reply by Carra’s hitman

If I see John Henry walking through a provincial shopping centre in the north of England I’ll be on the phone sharpish to some hired goons. And then we’ll see who will be walking alone. Through a storm of shattered kneecaps.

Reply by The Steve Clarke Five (times)

My head feels like it’s been caved in by a paving slab today. A paving slab thrown with great force by a sleeping innocent who would later go on to be bummed all over the show. I hope when the pain disappates, that my deformed cranium will be a reminder to everyone that this is not the Liverpool way.

Reply by Phil Thompson

When they did that. What they done there. Well I was amazed. And if they done that what they did there to help improve Liverpool Football Club and everything. Well I think what they did there, they did that there wrong. What they done. Because what they did was not right. And I think what they done there. What they did to Kenny and everything. Was not right. It was wrong.

The Anfield Wrap with Andy Badgeman

Thoughts turning to Rafa

When Rafa was forced out of our great club - Liverpool Football Club - by those whose names I cannot bear to countenance, I cried for 14 hours. And sobbed for 12 more. I felt emptier than when my ex wife left me for another man. More disappointed than when my 3 year old son began calling that man daddy. And lonelier than when nobody turned up to my 43rd birthday party.

Because I walked alone. Through a storm.

When I had finished crying and sobbing for a total of 26 hours I vomited for 9 hours. I was so disgusted with what those bastards had done to my Rafa that my stomach could not hold the super noodles and pickled onion discos I had feasted on after the horrendous news of rafa's departure cristalized. It was my last supper if you will.

And through the torture I began to have an epiphany.

As my vomit turned to the red of our great football club - Liverpool Football Club - I began to stir myself from my melancholy. As I was regurgitating the glory of my last supper, I began regurgitating the glory Rafa brought us in my mind. He had taken us to the summit of world football on a shoestring net spend. We had truly looked into the eyes of the football gods.

And got into their heads.

It was then that I realised. Rafa may be gone but he is still here. All around us. He is everywhere. I feel his love now as if he was next to me in bed. I feel his presence. I feel his touch. I feel his breath.

Como podria ser verdad

Last night I dreamt of Benitez
Just like he'd never gone, I knew the song
A young man with eyes like the desert
It all seems like yesterday, not far away

Chorus:
Torres running like the breeze
All our midfield wild and free
This is where I long to be
Rafael Benitez
And when the redmen played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
My Spanish lullaby

I fell in love with Benitez
Warm wind carried on the sea, playing 4-3-3
Te dijo te amo
I prayed that the days would last
They went so fast

Torres running like the breeze
All our midfield wild and free
This is where I long to be
Rafael Benitez
And when the redmen played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
My Spanish lullaby


I'm in my armchair, I'm watching on sky
When it's time for the adverts I fast forward them by
Clapping at the telly, then down to the pub
Where a club loves a boy, and a boy.......loves his club

Last night I dreamt of Benitez
It all seems like yesterday, not far away

Torres running like the breeze
All our midfield wild and free
This is where I long to be
Rafael Benitez
And when the redmen played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
My Spanish lullaby


Ta-la-ta-ta-taa

Torres running like the breeze
All our midfield wild and free
This is where I long to be
Rafael Benitez
And when the redmen played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
My Spanish lullaby


La-la-Rafa-la-la-la-laaa
Te dijo te amo
La-la-la-la-la-la-laaa
Spoken: El dijo que te ama

Pa-pa-la-pa-pa pa-pa-pa-pahaaa
Aha, aha-ahaaa
Rafael Benitez
Rafa, aha-ahaaa...

Dear Kenny

So now we’ve seen just what the media and football authorities are made of. They’ve conspired to humiliate a football icon. Don’t tell me they didn’t all collude in the lead up to the match. Don’t tell me they didn’t have all this planned in advance. And don’t tell me the King - MY King - deserved any of this.

Whisky nose and all his mates at the FA have certainly done their jobs. It makes me so so angry that I just want to hit the wall. And keep hitting it until I see the red of our great club.

All over my hands and bedroom wall.

When my 3 year old came in my room today – a room adorned with pictures of the King in his pomp - and asked me what was wrong I was so choked up I couldn’t answer him. I had to turn away and push him out of the room to avoid him seeing daddy cry. When he came to me several hours later, sick with hunger and a full nappy causing him severe discomfort, I had to smile. It brought to mind all the shit we’ve had to carry around for so so long and how it’s causing this great football club – Liverpool Football Club - unimaginable pain.

And how we have been starved of justice throughout this whole torrid affair.

As my little innocent son cried in front of me, confused and hurting, I finally relented and let the pain and hurt spill out. He will only have to wait until his mother and her new husband pick him up on Monday morning for love and sustenance. But how long will we have to wait. The greatest, most knowledgable fans ever to exist and the most dignified, honourable football club to ever play the game.

What those bastards have done to my King is too much for me to take. If it is affecting my family life so much, imagine what it’s doing to Kenny.

There is only one solution that I can see that will bring this terrible situation for Liverpool Football Club to a satisfactory conclusion. With everyone attacking the man I love and the football club I live for, drastic measures are required.

Measures that the football authorities would simply buckle under.

To alleviate some of the pressure on the King I propose bringing back Rafa as his right hand man to deal with all this. With Rafa at the right hand of the King and able to deal with the gutter press with his customary dignity, not to mention his legendary grace and unbending nobleness, King Kenny would be able to concentrate on our push for the title. Steve Clarke would move to the left hand of the king. We could then bring Gerard Houllier back to sit at the King’s right elbow with Roy Evans brought in to take his place at the King’s left elbow. Kevin Keen and John Achterberg could take a wrist each.

An undeniable force in the King’s arms that would undoubtedly sweep us to greatness.

Just imagine the look on bacon face’s grill when he hears of this move. He wouldn’t know how to deal with so many legends in one place. His friends at the FA would look pretty damn stupid if we pulled this off. And anyone who has ever doubted us will have egg all over their faces. It would certainly give the Manc stooges at Slysports plenty to report on their poisonous 24 hour news channel.

Nobody would doubt us anymore. We would be on the crest of a wave that would bring silverware back to Anfield and atonement from every quarter. Because when you look into the eyes of greatness, all the propaganda that the sheeple have eaten up simply dissipates.

And all that is left his a humbled reverence for Liverpool Football Club

I received an email today

From a life long Liverpool fan. His comments humbled me and made me realise the power of the Liverpool family.

<Wtf is this blog? Are you taking the piss? I've already put the word out and we're currently organising an email campaign to have this blog shut down. It is disrespectful to the millions of proud fans of Liverpool Football club the world over. If you persist with this abhorrence we will hound you until you are forced to take action. Be warned, the Liverpool family is not a group you want to get on the wrong side of. We have taken on more formidable foes than you and come out on the winning side!>

Reply by BawkatRawk

<Dear xxxxxxxx

You're right. I'm sorry if my blog posts are offensive to you or you've taken them the wrong way. It's just that I have such strong feelings for Liverpool football Club, King Kenny and the Liverpool family that sometimes I get carried away - I am often brought to the brink of orgasm by the strength of my feelings and feel the need to release them before I release something marginally less sticky and disgusting.

As I lay helpless before you like a cowering Bulgarian, please smash the paving slab of forgiveness over my head, before shinning up the drain pipe of absolution, and taking your place where you belong - and were all along - in the bed of righteousness. >

Charles Graham Adam

When the news came through on RAWK that Charlie Adam has signed for Liverpool Football club I was elated. I felt such a feeling of joy in my heart that I had a pseudo religious experience. Into a large man-sized tissue, that I had - at the last minute - found in my Wrangler jeans.

And then it all became so clear.

I suddenly felt at one with the world. I felt that my body and soul were part of a greater system of existence. I felt that I was on a higher plane and that nothing could ever supersede this feeling. Not even being given a large multi-pack of Flamin' hot Monster Munch. It was then that I truly began to understand what it is to be human.

And what it is about Liverpool Football Club that transends the mortal human soul.

You see, Charlie Adam did not have control over his feelings. Like a teenager in the flush of first love, Charles Graham Adam's head was in the clouds the moment he heard of the King's interest. He could not sleep. He could not eat. He could only think of the king and Liverpool Football Club.

Like a moth drawn to the light, like a bored man drawn to midget porn on the internet, and like a salmon drawn upstream to the calm pools of the mating chamber, Charles Graham Adam was drawn to the hallowed halls of Anfield.

Into the chamber of the King.

As King Kenny delicately, yet masterfully, intricately yet forcefully, passively yet directly assembles a title winning side he somehow takes on an ethereal quality. He rises above the minnions, scratching around at ground level for the dregs of the football world. He rises above us all and we raise our faces to him in trembling awe.

Ready for what He has to give us. All over our grills.

I pray to him and give thanks.
Dear King Kenny
This Gift...
Thank you for this gift,
Which you've bestowed to us,

This gift is life,
Life Eternally
Creation by your hands,
And the blood of your wrist.

I beg of you,
To live your life,
For all of those,
Who've been deprived.

I beg of you,
To live your life,
For those who've cried,
and been deprived

Of This precious gift,
The most precious gift,
The gift of Charles Graham Adam

Stevie G laaaaaaa to miss tour of Asia

When I heard that Stevie G will miss the tour of Asia I was worried. I haven't been able to sleep thinking about it. About the fact that our talisman, our leader, our hero, the pinacle of all of our hopes and dreams - may be unable to carry on.

Just as Liverpool football club embark on a season that will bring the Premier League trophy to Anfield I'm concerned. I'm more concerned than I was when the surgeons told me my son would never walk again. He was knocked down on the high street of a small northern provincial town completely unassociated with Liverpool Football Club. But his tears that day remind me of my own now as the gravity of this potential situation sit heavily on my already burdened shoulders.

My son never did walk again - but that crushing event can get nowhere near the enormity of the fact that the great Stevie G - all power, drive and stylish hair - may be coming to the end of his glorious medal laden career. As I sit with a heavy heart I cannot summon the energy to lift my son out of his wheelchair to administer his daily wash. As he looks at me with confusion in a pile of his own faeces I know that somewhere inside his damaged brain he understands his father's pain. And that makes me proud to be his father - and a fan of Liverpool football club.

But then I stare at pictures of the King. As my tears tumble upon his glorious image I sense that He can turn this all around. Just like a newborn baby struggling to survive, skin on skin contact from the mother can breathe new life into the child.

And King Kenny and Stevie G have a bond stronger than that between mother and child.

So dear King Kenny. Please, for the love of Stevie G tear off your shirt and expose your bare chest. Take Stevie G's groin and press it against the warmth of your body. Gently cradle the injured groin. Breathe new life into the injured area. Perhaps, take your healing hand and gently cup Sir Stevie of Gerrard. Cup him until the pain and tears go away.

Cup him until you launch his ejaculate far enough to usher in a new era for Steven Gerrard.

And a new era for Liverpool Football Club.

Kenny's hands are kind hands,
doing good to all,
Healing pain and sickness,
blessing Stevie's balls,
Washing tired feet and saving
those who fall;
Kenny's hands are kind hands,
doing good to all.

Take my hands, King Kenny,
let them work for you;
Make them strong and gentle,
kind in all I do;
Let me watch you, Kenny,
till I’m gentle too,
Till my hands are kind hands,
quick to work for you.