So, farewell then Jurgen Klopp. What memories you will leave us. You were exuberant, passionate and unorthodox. You ran up and down the touchline, gesticulating manically. You had a nice, albeit cosmetically enhanced, smile. You could be charming and witty.
You won. seven trophies in nine years for Liverpool, most significantly the Premier League title that ended an excruciating generation long wait and a sixth Champion’s League. Your place in the Pantheon is assured and things will be duller without you.
But is your leaving really a ‘disaster’? From the press reaction it would appear that your tenure at Anfield was an unbroken period of glory and joy the imminent cessation of which has precipitated something akin to mourning and existential angst. One wouldn’t be surprised at calls for a statue to be erected or a stand renamed.
One league win in eight attempts is surely a tad disappointing for a club of Liverpool’s stature, and last year’s failure to even make it into the Champion’s League is similar to relegation for managers of teams outside the super elite. And as for trophies won, take out the not so super ‘Super Cup’, the glorified training exercise that is the Community Shield and the frankly rather silly World Club Championship and we’re down to four, one of which is the League Cup.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not quibbling with the idea of Klopp as a very good manager. Spurs and Arsenal, let alone Manchester United fans, would kill for four trophies in a decade. And given the enormous pressure and soaring expectations of the Liverpool faithful and the hyper competitive environment of the premiership, it’s a decent return. But the anguish and despair at your decision to move on, seems somewhat disproportionate.
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