Oh, Fernando!

600 miles of driving in one day (all right, I only drove half of them), and forty-eight hours later I'm still knackered. And I'm writing a second article in a row about Liverpool. Admittedly, this is because my Saturday adventure was to the Riverside Stadium (where the hell is the river, by the way?) where the Reds played - er - the other Reds. Only the away Reds were wearing white, and for the first hour the Reds played like the other Reds.

Keeping up?

My views on the boy Rafa were given a huge jolt of support by the fact that, for the first hour, he was out-thought by that well-known tactical genius, (and the only vaguely prominent sportsman who still has a mullet) Gareth Southgate. Basically, the constant absence of Jonathan Woodgate, who's probably getting pressure sores from the amount of time he spends on the treatment table, means that Boro have to play two huge centre-backs, Huth (cue the home fans' wonderful barotone chant of HUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHH! every time he wellied the ball up the pitch, which was often) and Wheater. Both, unfortunately have the turning circles of a bus. But Boro's forwards stopped Liverpool playing out of defence, so the ball got punted up the pitch, and guess what? The giant defenders won it, and Boro had the ball.

Rafa didn't help himself by a) playing a full back, Riise, on the left wing; b) playing a central midfielder, Benayoun, on the right wing against a rookie full-back, and not getting him to take him on once; and c) playing Voronin, who, in addition, to wearing the least suitable ponytail since the guy out of Status Quo, was pretty hopeless. Everything wrong about Liverpool's rotation policy was made plain by my Liverpool-supporting mate, who when asked who he thought would play, confidently announced, "Voronin, because he hasn't played for a few games". Then Gerrard came deeper in a desperate attempt to get a reminder of what the ball looked like, and, Hey Presto, Liverpool were pushed back in midfield as well.

After an hour of being outclassed (if Downing's shot had gone in off the post, instead of out, game over), Liverpool finally chucked Alonso on in midfield for Benayoun. Having already brought Babel into action, Liverpool finally had some width, and with some midfield protection Stevie G had licence to roam. Then Fernando Torres got the ball into feet for about the first time all day, turned and WHAM! Being in the home end, me and my mates had to mutter through clenched teeth: "that was a b***** good goal, wasn't it?" After that, it was a siege,but Boro held on for a point.

You see, I was not Mr. Torres' biggest fan a few months ago. His goalscoring record for Atletico Madrid was mediocre (possibly because they were gash) and twenty million quid seemed quite a lot of money compared to Thierry Henry's fee (but maybe not Darren Bent's!)

But I am wholly convinced now; the boy is quality with a capital Q. Maybe a capital U as well. He has got the Pool out of a hole time and time again this season with his clinical finishing, and throughout the Premier League this year centre-halves have been messing the inside of their shorts when he gets the ball at his feet and runs at them at a very fast speed. His touch and movement are sublime as well. If only he'd get rid of that daft hairband. It wasn't cool when my sister wore one at age seven and it isn't cool now, Fernando.

So anyway, if or when his fellow countryman runs out of form, Rafa is going to be in a lot of trouble. Meanwhile, Boro are too good to go down - any side who can get a result with Aliadiere in their team will do okay. I still say Fulham, and Birmingham City, to join Derby County, who are, to quote Baldrick, "as dead as some doo-doos".

Anyway, it was well worth the journey, and it's the first time I've ever found myself swallowed up underneath a giant flag before kickoff. Sweet.

L.