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Dull stalemate will suit me, Sir

PREPARE yourselves: This isn’t going to be pretty.

Liverpool-Chelsea games tend to attract epithets like ‘absorbing’, ‘intriguing’ and ‘fascinating’ from those with a direct interest in the outcome; ‘boring’, ‘dull’ and ‘pass me that gun’ from the uncommitted neutral.

Certainly three out of the four Champions League meetings to date have been only marginally more interesting than an Andy Gray screen scribble session on The Last Word; the exception of course being the famous Anfield semi-final, when an incredible atmosphere and an early goal combined to create a memorable occasion.

There’ll be no-one happier than me if tonight is another encounter to turn your brain to mush; the number one priority is to get out of Stamford Bridge still in the tie, an outcome whose likelihood is in inverse proportion to the excitement in the game.

Despite the perceived importance of an away goal, a mind-numbing, buttock-clenching 0-0 draw will suit me fine and, while providing no guarantees, will encourage me to start exploring the best way to reach Athens via land, sea, air or teleportation.

Over the years I’ve become thoroughly sick of Stamford Bridge; our record there must be as bad as any other ground in the country.

Since we clinched the first half of the double there in 1986, it’s been an unremitting cavalcade of capitulation that several times has brought me to the brink of sitting at home with my head in a bag of sand rather than subject myself to the humiliation of another Bridge battering.

Just twice have we won there in the league since that memorable Dalglish volley, the freakish nature of this statistic underlined by the single victory in the last 10 years or so coming courtesy of Bruno Cheyrou’s left boot in 2004. Otherwise it’s been continuous frustration.

So by all means let’s try and score, but not at the risk of conceding any advantage to Jose’s boys.

Two banks of four, lots of pressing, no stupid free-kicks given away –, these need to be the mantras for tonight.

And if the papers tomorrow are bemoaning a sterile encounter, then warm up those vocal chords for another night of uplifting, passionate and hopefully terrifying pandemonium next Tuesday night.

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