The siren set the tempo. That haunting, ear-splitting alarm rang around this famous old stadium for the first time this season. It echoed for an eternity and maybe, just maybe, the players were held back for an extra second or two so the piercing tone could have maximum impact.
It transformed a nervous, tense corner of L4 that was all too aware that Bournemouth had once again landed a blow to Everton’s hopes by beating, of all teams, a supposedly reborn Liverpool. Of course they did.
But as the rain fell and the coldness crept into nearly 40,000 desperate bones and the siren turned into Z-Cars and Seamus Coleman emerged, training top draped over a young mascot’s shoulders, the Grand Old Lady erupted. Would you want to be the enemy stepping onto this freezing, sodden battleground as the battle cry of a passionate, raucous fanbase dominates your senses? I would not.
