Someone in the media finally responds to the scousers love-fest. At last.
Why Stevie G is most self-obsessed footballer of his generation
AS Liverpool buckled this past fortnight, the scale of the surrender to sentiment and the Great Myth of Steven Gerrard became apparent.
Essentially the leader who went AWOL at the decisive hour, who could offer only blubbering sobs when his troops needed direction, who abandoned his post in the heat of battle, somehow emerged with a Purple Heart pinned to his tear-stained chest.
Even the Fourth Estate chose to raise the white flag to the fairy story of Stevie G when the Football Writers’ Association arrived at the absurd conclusion that here was the second-best performer in the Premier League over the past nine months.
Straight faces were maintained at their London hooley as they deemed Gerrard’s body of work superior to Eden Hazard and, quite preposterously, Yaya Toure, the peerless touchstone against whom every midfield portfolio must be measured.
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