There was to be no Suffolk sucker punch. Arne Slot’s Premier League bow with Liverpool was safely negotiated, avoiding the fate that befell Brendan Rodgers in 2012, a 3-0 defeat to West Brom. Jürgen Klopp’s October 2015 debut was a 0-0 draw with Tottenham remembered for the vigour of his players. How will this be recalled? Probably with mixed feelings. After a first half where a circumspect, slow buildup Liverpool were frequently caught cold by Ipswich playing superior, far more inventive football, something like normal service was resumed by a team playing a direct style rather like that under Klopp.
Despite Diogo Jota and Mohamed Salah’s second-half goals, it will take some while to shake that looming shadow. Where, 50 years ago, Bill Shankly haunted the Melwood training ground, Klopp’s ghostly presence stalks Instagram, a background hum to Slot’s attempt to install fresh doctrines. That presence will only grow if results go awry, as they did for Manchester United and Arsenal when their respective emperors stepped aside. For now, first assignment completed, Slot forges on with the same bunch of players as Klopp, Martín Zubimendi’s snub having raddled summer plans.
Zubimendi’s projected No 6 midfield role was filled by Klopp’s last ever signing, Ryan Gravenberch. Jota was central striker, the poacher given licence to drop deeper and supply passes to bottle-blonde Luis Díaz and freshly cropped Salah. Darwin Núñez, the enigma Klopp couldn’t solve, stayed on the bench. Trent Alexander-Arnold made regular, familiar incursions into central midfield.
A slower buildup did not appear to suit the players Slot has to hand. Liverpool’s best first-half chance came when the Ipswich defender Luke Woolfenden mistakenly played the ball into Díaz’s path, only for Christian Walton, the goalkeeper, to smother. Added patience in play will take some getting used to; there was audible impatience from an away support used to nine years of crash, bang, wallop, heavy metal football. The first half was more prog-rock, with attendant difficult time signatures.
Ipswich’s welcome back to the Premier League has been warm, though a rich history of the Cobbold family, Alf Ramsey, Bobby Robson, Frank Yallop and the darting runs of Alan Brazil will not shield the club from the harsh realities of 2024’s Premier League. They have retained their prime asset, Kieran McKenna, a miracle worker on the level of Ramsey and Robson in hauling the club from the third-tier doldrums. A coach for fully 16 years – five longer than Slot – at 38, he is nothing like wet behind the ears, though his team’s naiveties were exposed in Liverpool’s goals in the 60th and 65th minutes. Leif Davis, excellent going forward, played an unfortunate part in both.
“It’s our time,” had said the pre-match announcer, the town centre having swelled with blue shirts since early morning. An ear-bleeding scream filled the muggy lunchtime air when early Liverpool possession was charged down and it appeared Conor Chaplin might have an opening.
Of a summer of brisk Ipswich business, Jacob Greaves and Liam Delap were two players making Town debuts, Sammie Szmodics and Kalvin Phillips beginning on the bench. Until his 75th-minute removal, Delap’s movement across the front and pressing of Liverpool’s defenders caused much disruption, preventing them moving through the gears until he understandably tired.
When Greaves rose to a header, there was shrill, expectant excitement. Ipswich are not set up to sit back. Tim Robinson, the referee, was accused of being from Merseyside when Sam Morsy was – correctly – booked for a clip of Mac Allister’s heel but the home support had much else to cheer. Just past the half hour, Omari Hutchinson was sent away, jinked inside but couldn’t get enough purchase on his shot. Axel Tuanzebe soon flashed a header wide as Ipswich entered the break the better team.
Another hangover from the Klopp era – finding a partner for Virgil van Dijk – reared up when Jarell Quansah was replaced by Ibrahima Konaté at the break but Liverpool began the half at a much increased speed. Slot, a quiet touchline presence compared to his predecessor, more darts player stalking the oche than ants-in-pants berserker, had made himself heard. The passing was crisper, more direct, the pressing far more aggressive though Slot must have been relieved when Davis, forever a threat to Alexander-Arnold, was ruled offside before Delap was bundled over in the box, denying any penalty decision.
Liverpool chances finally began to come, two desperate Ipswich blocks preceded Mac Allister skewing his header wide before Salah surged into a space that Davis and Greaves had vacated, to place the ball into the path of Jota. Next, Salah, the opening-day specialist, stole in to increase Liverpool’s comfort. Here was a more suitable place for the patient passing. An “Arne Slot” chant was soon heard from the away fans; job done satisfactorily enough, even if he will know there remains much to work on.
Source From: Premier League | The Guardian
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