November 25, 1899
The city on the Mersey is uniquely favoured in having a League match week in, week out, all through the season. That comes of having two League teams available. And so, while Everton are at Blackburn, the Liverpool team will be at Anfield Road, their visitors the Wolves. Secretary Tom Watson still hankers after new men, and has been trying to get Alex Robertson, of the Third Lanark. It is just as well, perhaps, that Robertson has gone to Glossop, for all that is now wanted to make Liverpool – I will not say dangerous competitors for the League Championship, but respectable runners-up – is to leave the present team alone.
The much-abused John “Sailor” Hunter is proving himself a capable successor to the late lamented George Allan after all; and the team as a whole is rapidly regaining the excellence of last season which seemed to have departed for good. Probably the improvement is largely due to their stay at Fairhaven. They have now come back home, and it is not to be denied that the adjacent Sandon Hotel is a temptation, and the imitation of admirers to “have a glass, old chap,” a danger. One glass might do no harm; but when the admirers number thousands, a glass each time, well – it rather interferes with training. I am rather surprised that Secretary Watson does not adopt the methods he tried with so much success at Sunderland – make the men wear the blue ribbon and appoint a chaplain to the club.
Liverpool have got rid of the wooden spoon – passed it on to North End, ha ha. Their improved form it is mere flash in the pan; it is real and permanent, as they have shown in a whole series of matches lately, winding-up with Aston Villa, whom they ought to have beaten last week by at least a couple of goals. These were the goals stupidly given by Harry Storer and Rab Howell. Storer has quite supplanted his supplanter, Bill Perkins, but if he gives any more goals away Perkins will have another innings in the English Cup-ties which caused Storer to break down so badly last season. There is plenty of time for that, though; the League is the thing at the present, and assuming that Liverpool maintain their present form the turn of the year should see them almost as near the top of the ladder as they are near the bottom at present. It will be a Happy New Year in that case, to be sure!
(Lancashire Evening Post: November 25, 1899)
XX
"Play Up, Liverpool" 