RUN OF PLAY INTERNAL MEMORANDUM • CONFIDENTIAL
RE: Rafa’s return
The news that the unemployed Rafa Benítez has returned to his Liverpool home creates remarkable artistic opportunities for the staff of The Run of Play. Our problem is to decide among the many options.
The first thought that presents itself is a Shakespearean one: imagine an opening scene in a half-darkened hall, with Lord Roy slumped to the side of his rather over-large throne; Captain Gerrard enters quietly and whispers,
My Lord, ‘tis bruited all through Merseyside
That th’ exiled prince hath crept back to his lair. . . .
So much is clear. But from there do we go the Titus Andronicus route, now-could-I-drink-hot-blood all the way? Should we take a middle option, Roy wandering the heath after losing to Mick McCarthy, “he’s mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf?” Or the subtler Hamlet style?—after all, Hodgson is not easily cast as a man of action. He puts forth a brave face, but it’s easy to imagine him, on hearing of Rafa’s return, “sicklied o’er by the pale cast of thought.” (The man reads a hell of a lot of books.)
To think of Hamlet is to think of the Ghost, and from there it’s but a short step to other literary ghosts—say, those in A Christmas Carol. This would have been a more attractive option two weeks ago, though we should remember that the Christmas season doesn’t officially end until January 6. Clearly, Bill Shankly must be the Ghost of Reds Past, and we have to find a role for Martin Škrtel, because if that visage doesn’t frighten you, what will? The biggest question here is whether we present Roy as Scrooge and Rafa as Marley, or vice versa.
(Note to interns: please re-read Dickens’s story and see if there’s a plausible part for Paul Konchesky’s mum. But move quickly!—we’re running out of time.)
My own preference at the moment is for grand opera: Hodgson’s stolid baritone clashing with Rafa’s coloratura soprano—that would be smashing! But here too questions must be asked. There’s the Puccini option: Scousers as bohemians, romanticized lowlife. There’s the Wagner option: Tristan und Isolde rather than Götterdämmerung, I believe—though now that I think about it. . . . But let’s not confine ourselves to the obvious. We’ve got to be willing to think outside the box. Picture this: Nixon in China.
Okay, this should give you all plenty to mull over. We’ll all meet in the conference room tomorrow morning at 10:30, so be ready for your best brainstorming. And speaking of being imaginative: interns, you can do better than Starbucks. Let’s have some good coffee and real pastries for once, okay?
À bientôt, everybody!
Read More: Liverpool
by Alan Jacobs · December 30, 2010
I’m reading Plutarch and Tacitus for fun, and Hodgson is very much the Nero: a man promoted above his ability, made mad by the pressures of the job, and will soon line Merseyside with the crucified corpses of fans he blames for the destruction of Anfield. I don’t know if he plays the violin, but he had better learn. The problem is is that the man who deposes him could just be another empty tyrant. like Caligula or Diocletian
What if you went with classic American lit, just as an homage to the now deposed Hicks and Gillette? Huck Finn, anyone?
Stevie G can play Huck Finn, and Rafa can play Jim (Rafa in blackface would be a most disturbing prospect). Hicks and Gillette could play the absurd king and the duke. Fernando could appear as Tom Sawyer, and Skirtel is creepy enough that he could play Huck’s pap.
Given Liverpool’s gloriously-remembered history, we need to take this in the epic direction.
Rafa is the wiley-but-plagued Odysseus, returning home after struggling thru foreign lands with losing battles and monsters, even the god of the sea Poseidon who manipulates the events of our hero’s travels for his evil. “All the gods pitied him except Poseidon; he remained relentlessly angry with godlike Odysseus…” all the way from the Bernebéu.
Roy might end up playing a less obnoxious Melanthius, letting the flocks go bad.
Scousers: a collective Eumaeus, loyal swineherd
Dalglish: Nestor
Shankley: Agamemnon
Gerrard: faithful son Telemachus, keeping the kingdom somewhat like his father had left it
Moratti: Calypso
’Arry, Gareth Bale, Spurs: Sirens
A.C. Milan & Roma: Scylla & Charybdis
Cambiasso, Stankovic, etc.: Laestrygonians
And on and on.
I’m liking these responses. Some of you people could have a future with our organization.
I still haven’t picked myself up from the shock of this insult against our pastries.
@Brian Phillips We’ve been over this, Brian: history clearly shows that an endeavor such as ours is only as good as its pastries. Excellence in that area paves the way for excellence elsewhere. Don’t settle for less than the best.
I see such potential for a rewrite of Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari – Rafa stalks around northern Italy murdering and plundering, only to wake up and realise he is still in the asylum. He’ll never escape Liverpool. Never.
There is only one form capable of capturing the Liverpool saga in all its bizarre, incestuous and seemingly never-ending majesty: the humble soap opera. In fact this would be a marvellous opportunity to combine the ‘best’ characteristics of the American tradition (time travel, shocking pregnancies and spiritual possessions) with the most mundane British fare (terraced houses, shocking pregnancies and rain). Granted, I’m not entirely sure how pregnancies fit into Anfield, unless we go the whole “Footballers’ Wives” route, but we can make it work.
To be honest, I just love the idea of Roy as the owner of a small local garage struggling to cope with the cheeky geezers (Stevie and Jamie), languid migrant labour (Torres), a new Stetson-wearing competitor (Henry) and the sudden reappearance of his wife’s long-lost evil twin sister (Ana de la Reguera).
Roy Hodgson might not be a brilliant manager but he is still better than managers of half (at least ) the teams which sit above liverpool.
He needs some time and that should be given to him. Liverpool FC is not exactly filled with superstars and it’s not like liverpool were winning titles and cups till yesterday and suddenly with Roy they have dropped down the table.
Remember Sir Alex did not set the house on fire in his initial years at MUFC.
Hodgson is clearly Lenny; an initially likeable buffoon who has done such wrong he has to go.
The longer he stays incidentally, the more I’m in favour of stretching this analogy and having him taken outside and shot.
In my ignorance I read this only today… No doubt, Roy (young Orestes) is being hounded by the shrieks of Furies (media) as we speak. Will the gods forgive his vengeance on Clytemnestra (Rafa) for her brutal murder of Agamemnon (Liverpool FC)? Did he step knowingly onto the purple dyed carpet (see: Champions League ’05), angering the gods with his hubris?
With bated breath, we look on to see if wise Athena will intervene and Orestes will be acquitted of his crimes or damned and eternally tormented by the Furies.
The only question is, who plays Cassandra? Rick Parry..?
You guys are so cultivated I feel out of place here. Please say something about nude women!!! Please!!