Pack up the euphoniums, lay down the drumsticks, put away the trumpets. If they thought that the Premier League would last for ever they were wrong. There is always something slightly mournful about the pre-kick-off playing of “When the Saints Going Marching In” and perhaps never more so than on Sunday with the brass band hinting it could be one of the casualties of the cost-cutting that will inevitably follow relegation. The chaotically defiant, entirely un-funereal, performance that followed does not change that.
That is the sad truth when a team goes down. The players, the first-team coaches and the directors will, by and large, be fine. Fans may weep, but for all the self-pity of a sub-set of modern support, most will be back next season, happy enough at a day out with family or friends, whoever the opposition. The people who suffer are those in less visible roles, the academy coaches, the analysts, the catering staff and – perhaps – the brass band. That’s where the cuts fall and where they are felt.
It was a day of farewells. Liverpool said goodbye to Roberto Firmino and James Milner, neither of whose contracts have been renewed after eight years; Firmino’s future is unclear while it seems likely Milner will begin his 22nd season as a pro at Brighton. Southampton probably said goodbye to James Ward-Prowse, given a standing ovation as he was taken off with four minutes to go.
They definitely said goodbye to Rubén Sellés who turned up, looked the part, had the enormous advantage of not being Nathan Jones, managed to embarrass Tottenham and, more consequentially, Arsenal with 3-3 draws but won just twice. His lasting impression on English football is likely to be alongside Ricky Sbragia, Terry Connor and Xisco Muñoz as a guaranteed winning answer on Pointless.
And most significantly, Southampton said goodbye to the Premier League after 11 years, proof that clubs that are hailed as models for other non-superclubs to follow are only ever a couple of bad decisions from collapse. Money doesn’t guarantee success – spending £127m in the last two windows was arguably the problem, but lots of it provides a very useful safety net.
Beside the farewells, there was nothing to play for. Southampton were guaranteed to be bottom; Liverpool were guaranteed to be fifth. It was an open pressure-free jolly in the spring sunshine, a game that had all the intensity of a Bank Holiday Sunday in a beer garden; Liverpool fans seemed more preoccupied with Everton’s relegation situation than the match in front of them. It was a game of thousands of chances, none of them consequential.
Still, when the game has no point, all you can do, however unconvincingly, is look for potential indicators of the future. There was too little sense of jeopardy to take any conclusion too seriously, but those who believe Trent Alexander-Arnold’s future lies in the modish right-back/central-midfield hybrid role may be given pause by the amount of space Ward-Prowse was gifted on the Southampton left as he began an unlikely fightback.
Tremendous comedy defending had gifted Liverpool two goals in the opening quarter-hour, first Roméo Lavia, having been put under a certain amount of pressure by Jan Bednarek and Alex McCarthy, rolling the ball across the box to allow Diogo Joga to clip into an empty net. Bednarek and Lyanco were then befuddled by what may have been a dummy but was probably a mis-kick from Firmino as the Brazilian knocked in a second with the Brazilian scrabbling around on his backside.
after newsletter promotion
Firmino had bought gift boxes for the Liverpool staff, and he was just as generous to Southampton, presenting the ball to Theo Walcott, almost unbelievably only three years younger than Milner, who fed Kamaldeen Sulemana for his first goal for the club to make it 2-2. There were still only 28 minutes played.
A second for Southampton’s record signing came via a sumptuous finish three minutes after half-time following a counter through a vacant midfield – there is clearly work to be done on the Alexander-Arnold Protocol. A misplaced pass from Jordan Henderson error handed Adam Armstrong the fourth. But the openness and disorganisation was universal. Alexander-Arnold, in a typical crossing position, laid on a tap-in for Cody Gakpo, before Jota surged through to level.
Southampton’s job now, once the requiem for brass is done, is to reset under their new manager Russell Martin, to pour away the ocean and hack at the dead wood; it’s the only way something may at last come to at least some good.
