Just go!
You are the manager. There's twenty minutes to go in a must win match against Birmingham City. Your star striker is on the pitch and at your disposal on the bench are several forward thinking players. One, David Ngog, has all the skills and goal-scoring threat of a block of wood.
What do you do?
If you're Rafa Benitez you take off the star striker and replace him with the block of wood. You also showcase your talent for signing some of the most bog standard donkeys ever to have donned a red shirt.
Step forward Mr Insua, Mr Kyrgiakos and the latest pointless addition, Maxi Rodriguez.
Cometh the hour cometh the man. Rodriguez ballooned a sitter over the bar in the closing moments. That said Ngog had already duffed a selection of chances which, no doubt, Fernando Torres would have had nestling in the back of the net.
And whatever new depth of incompetence Rafa manages to plumb the majority of Liverpool supporters continue their perverse practice of singing his name.
What do you do?
If you're Rafa Benitez you take off the star striker and replace him with the block of wood. You also showcase your talent for signing some of the most bog standard donkeys ever to have donned a red shirt.
Step forward Mr Insua, Mr Kyrgiakos and the latest pointless addition, Maxi Rodriguez.
Cometh the hour cometh the man. Rodriguez ballooned a sitter over the bar in the closing moments. That said Ngog had already duffed a selection of chances which, no doubt, Fernando Torres would have had nestling in the back of the net.
And whatever new depth of incompetence Rafa manages to plumb the majority of Liverpool supporters continue their perverse practice of singing his name.
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