A bit of schadenfreude never did football fans any harm – The Mag

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After the weekend results, this piece was going to be headlined “It’s grim up north London”, in a nod to the old cliche churned out by the southern-based and southern-biased press whenever something bad happened to those lucky enough to live nearer to Scotland than to Soho.
However, then I thought of that wunderbar German word that is defined as “pleasure derived by someone from another person’s misfortune.”
Admittedly, it’s not the most noble of characteristics. Sympathy, commiserations or even a brief “bad luck, old chap” directed towards anyone suffering a loss, would be far more admirable.
Football, though, is a visceral game that generates deep inward feelings, so schadenfreude is the unavoidable sentiment coursing through my veins after watching two of the Premier League’s least savoury managers suffer unexpected defeats in their own back yard on Sunday afternoon.
Do I need to name the tedious twosome? Probably not.
Suffice to say one possesses false teeth, false hair and a false bonhomie, while the other has occasional trouble with his English, despite living and working here for longer than most footballers spend at school.
You’ve probably basked in the afterglow of our superb dismantling of Spurs for the past couple of days, so let’s concentrate on events at Anfield and at the Emirates.
Palace started the day dangerously close to the relegation zone but started their match against Liverpool as if they had been flying as high as eagles all season. They could have scored in the first minute and certainly should have been ahead before Eze calmly stroked the ball into the net to cap a flowing move that involved six one-touch passes. A better team goal is hard to imagine.
A bit of a shock, though Liverpool have been sluggish for a while now, especially before the interval. Going a goal down always seems to motivate them, as we have found to our cost ad nauseam.
The fawning production team at Sky Sports, when not showing the top of the table, flashed up such gems as “the most successful team at claiming points from losing positions” and “the team who score most often in the closing 15 minutes”, as well as “the team who concede most goals from 75-90 minutes.” You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to name those in question . . .
What the commentators and pundits were spouting I cannot say, having muted the sound on the trusty laptop the instant my ears were assailed by the nasal utterings of a certain Mr Carragher. Presumably he was full of praise for Liverpool’s opponents (ahem).
Palace pulled off the perfect smash-and-grab raid, striking early and then withstanding the inevitable wave of attacks, especially in the second half. Here’s a question for those clever statisticians at Sky: when did Liverpool last lose two games at home in four days and fail to score in either? That’s before April 2024, obviously.
Highly rated central defenders suddenly seem to be afflicted by a terrible ailment, the main symptom being an inability to keep their balance.
On Saturday, St James’ Park was treated twice to the sight of Van de Ven landing on his posterior as United ran Spurs ragged.
And yesterday at Anfield, Van Dijk paid his personal tribute to the legendary pratfall of Stevie G with an impersonation that would have impressed Buster Keaton. In the words of Declan Patrick MacManus aka Elvis Costello, they “can’t stand up for falling down.” (See, I’m full of admiration for some folk with Liverpool connections).
When the final whistle blew, after eight minutes of stoppage time, the experts in the TV studio were doubtless quick to shout “advantage Arsenal.” That’s a guess, obviously, though I did notice Merson among the three wise men, so it’s not an outlandish assumption.
There was just time to clock the West Ham v Fulham result, another one to cheer all right-thinking Geordies, before settling down to the bunfight between the Premier League’s top two . . . alphabetically speaking, at least.
Aston Villa were mightily impressive. Watkins hit the inside of an Arsenal post in the first half with a shot that flew back across the six-yard box and out for a goal kick. Close, but no cigar. Tielemans went even closer to breaking the deadlock after the interval with an angled drive that hit the underside of Arsenal’s bar, then the far post, before being cleared.
Meanwhile, the Gunners were mainly misfiring, though their ex-keeper Martinez came back to curse them with a couple of smart saves. He’s a bumptious bloke in the style of Dino Arms but there’s no denying that on their day they are both difficult to beat.
And this was Villa’s day. While Arsenal shuffled their pack, exchanging one ineffective forward for another cut from the same cloth, Villa played their ace in the shape of Bailey, who scored on 84 minutes. The trickle of home “supporters” heading for the exits became a flood three minutes later when Watkins scored his 19th Premier League goal of the season. Haaland has 20, while our own, our very own Alexander Isak, stands on 17 despite spending far less time on the pitch than his rivals for the golden boot.
Football can be a complicated business. While I rejoiced at Arsenal’s defeat – in the immortal words of Sir Bobby Robson, “some people around here need to learn how to lose” – the three points for Villa took them 13 clear of United. We have six games left, they have five. Too big a gap, surely?
We would need to win all our remaining fixtures to stand any chance of catching Spurs, currently in fifth.
Eddie Howe and his assistants delivered a masterclass on Saturday. However, as our revered leader always says, the next game is the most important.
That just happens to be at Selhurst Park on April 24, three days after Palace host West Ham. A win in the first match would put them on 36 points and at least eight clear of the drop zone. Probably enough, in this season of deductions, to guarantee another year at the top table.
Based on their showing at Anfield, the Eagles could be our toughest challenge of the run-in. And that includes the trip to Sold Trafford. Let’s hope Palace have one eye on their beach towels when we visit south London.
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Simon Ritter

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