The similarities between the unexpected departures from Liverpool of Jürgen Klopp and Bill Shankly are unavoidable. Shankly also spoke of weariness, although he perhaps felt, after a brilliant performance in the FA Cup final a couple of months earlier, that there were no more worlds to conquer. But in both cases there was no buildup, no warning, a team playing well, quite possibly on the ascent to yet greater heights. With both managers, the prevailing sense at the announcement was shock, the sense of more to give.
But perhaps the hardest thing is to know when it’s over. The temptation must always be for one last try. If things are going well, why not try to burnish the record just a little more? And if they are not, then what trope is more beloved of sport than that of the return from the wilderness? How better to redeem the years of frustration than by joining Muhammad Ali, Jack Nicklaus and Mark Cavendish is one final act of defiance against time, the critics and the fates?
