Given the paucity of invention, the total lack of spark in our attacking play I was just dreaming of how fantastic it would be if we could ever get the Australian to consistenty do the business for us.
That's the thing with Harry, he peeves you off then disappears from the scene for so long that you forget why you disliked him in the first place. It's like one of them blokes that you really like borrows twenty sovs off you in the boozer and isn't seen again for months. When you actually bump into him you don't really care about the twenty quid anymore, your just glad he's back on the scene.
I sort of don't really care about what he did in Istanbul anymore, after all we won anyway. I can forget his puppy fat face and casual indifference as yet another game drifts by without him causing so much of a ripple to disturb its gentle meander. I can forgive his ridiculous high court lible case, where he came out second best to the crisp munching big-eared fella.
Why can I forget and forgive all this? Because when, and I know it's not often, the guy decides to play then he is capable of moments of sublime quality. He can change a game in an instant, stand it on its head with a flash of invention. He tells us that he has been injured for the best part of his whole Liverpool career. We've never seen the real Harry Kewell he tells us. Well Harry, if not a nation, then a football club turns its lonely eyes to you. Maybe it's the season of forgiveness, of players rising like the pheonix from the write-off bin. If we can forgive Micky O (and we can ), then we can forgive Harry K. Get well soon son.





