The Myth of the Messiah

A great scholar, perhaps it was Paul Merson, once wrote, "And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay, Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away". It was perhaps the erudite Merse's most eloquent moment; a scathing critique of the transient nature of human power, a damning warning to those proclaimed an untouchable messiah. The demise of  Kenny Dalglish is just the latest in a long line of fallen kings scattered across the landscape of professional football. King Kenny? Acrimoniously departed having led Liverpool to a decidedly unregal 8th place. King Kev? His comeback was more 5ive than Aragorn. Marlon King? He's really, really rubbish.

It is a stubborn myth; that the return of the prodigal son will somehow reap rewards that elude more qualified men. Proven false time and time again, by Keegan, Alan Shearer and Robbie Fowler to name a few, the allure of its poetry and simplicity still led Liverpool to appoint Dalglish against a backdrop of fan fervour for his name. Of course, Dalglish is more than simply a club legend and proved himself an extremely competent manager in his first stint at Anfield and with a Blackburn side he led to the Premier League title. But these achievements were in the early 90s and were followed with abject failure at Newcastle. Not only has Kenny aged in the preceeding time, but the face of football itself has drastically changed.

His signings, and deployment of tactics, smacked of a man left in a bygone era. Sticking a big man up front and providing width to feed him may well have proved wise 20 years ago, but in an age of tika taka and fluid formations it looked like an archaic relic in a gleeming world of the future. Of course his cause wasn't helped by suspect advice from the also departed Damien Comolli and the underwhelming displays of Stewart Downing and Andy Carroll, but the buck has to stop somewhere. In particular, a glaring inability to find a successful Plan B after the shortcomings in the system became common knowledge pointed not to a King but to a naive pauper. Likewise, the dogged determination to stick with an ageing club legend in Jamie Carragher signalled at best an overactive sense of loyalty, and at worst to an arrogant refusal to admit that he was wrong.

It is unfortunate that Liverpool, a proud club with a remarkable history, are now saddled with the veneer of this arrogance in the minds of many. Declaring that kit deals and minor trophies were majestic achievements can be sidelined as relatively harmless delusion, but the defence of Luis Suarez was a demonstration of the swaggering aloofness Kenny and a few select others had at the club. To back a player convicted of racist offences as misunderstood is one thing. To turn that offence on its head and accuse the victim of lying despite the assertions of an independent court is quite another. If a public official in any branch of life attacked the validity of a black man's claims in the face of racial aggravated abuse he would be immediately fired. Yet Dalglish, and by proxy Liverpool, did just that without any recrimination beyond a belated, and exceptionally contrite, apology. It was a scandal that should have resulted in his head, and it brought shame to a club that has been synonymous with dignity for much of its modern history.

Yet, sadly, it wasn't Kenny's harmful delusions which brought him to his knees, but simply his inability to get 11 men to kick a ball in a particularly effective or innovative way. Anfield was a fortress once: under Dalglish it has become more inviting to opposing forces than Paris in 1940. Champions League football never looked anything but a pipe dream, and that a Carling Cup victory should be heralded as an enormous achievement is a sad indictment of the state of a club which once conquered Europe almost at will. Ridiculous sums of money have been spent, but to the impartial observer it is hard to deduce any value really added. Suarez is perhaps an exception, but that such a flawed, if talented, individual has become the new messiah of Anfield is a worrying development to say the least.

It can only be hoped that Dalglish is not remembered for the troubling times of recent days, but rather for his untouchable genius as a player and notable success as a manager in the 90s. More importantly, however, it can be hoped that his case is the final nail in the coffin for the myth of the messiah. Legends should be left as just that; giants of the past that each club can look upon with fond nostalgia. To summon them once more into the fray not only risks their own demise, but also the stature of the team they return to supposedly inspire. Kenny will always be a king on Merseyside; it is just a shame that, as with so many before him, delusions of divine power should have been allowed to bring about his fall.