So here we are. Six games to go, and the fight for fourth place is wide open again after yet another twist and turn last weekend with our draw at home to a busy but non too impressive Spurs side and the winning goal for Bolton at the Valley being scored by none other than our own, our very own, the spitting senegalesian, El Hadji.
Once again, we must rely on the results of other teams to ensure we clinch the final and probably most important Champions League place (outside of winning the league title of course, but what chance of that this term?). Our desting is not in our own hands, but in all honesty, we are in as strong a position as any to grab the chance to emulate this seasons heroics in Europe's premier competition once again next term.
We must go to Arsenal, as will our blue cousins, and Bolton need to entertain Champions elect Chelski towards the end of April. Bolton then need to face Aston Villa and Portsmouth following tonights battle with Harry Redknapps relegation threatened Saints.
Everton will travel to Arsenal and finally to the Reebok following the visit of Greame Souness' Magpies to Jurassic Park, in what looks like the trickiest three game run in of all three teams. Before the turn of the month, they will entertain old fat heads Birmingham, following a visit of old alcoholic Alex's United.
It is easy as a Liverpool fan, (especially in the light of this seasons league form from the toffee's), to support any team who plays against Everton, but tomorrow is surely the rock and the hard places of all rock/hard place connundrums for Reds fans. I dont know how, but I will be willing Everton to be beaten. (Which as far as I am concerned is not the same as willing Manchester United to win).
And tonight, I will use the Redknapp factor, (Jamie that is), and the fact that I once sat two seats from his lovely (very, very, VERY lovely) wife in the Main Stand once as the strained link to and reason for being a Saint and willing the flying broomstick (Crouch) to notch a hat trick against Diouf and the other's from the Reebok retirement village.
So there you have it, over and above being dyed in the wool an LFC man, I will tonight, if only for ninty minutes, be a saint and tomorrow a small, really tiny, minute, distant, un recognisable to the human eye, part of my pschye will be willing a team of devils on against our blue cousins.
Football does strange things to you.