As for Liverpool, the fact that I just used the Beatles to suggest how well Chelsea played in a match against Liverpool without ever stopping to think, “hey, that might seem weird, because the Beatles were from Liverpool,” probably tells the whole story of how Liverpool looked in the match. Their most indelible images, to be contrasted with Anelka’s magnificent Nike-silhouette volley, were the one of Reina’s slapstick dive at the end of the first half (he was fouled, then took a step, then turned into a cubist study of a horse being thrown down stairs) and the one of Sammy Lee planted on the sideline, apparently dressed in a windsock. Gerrard was nowhere, Carragher is going to need a doctor to take out the stitches Drogba left behind when he was sewing in his “Property of” nameplate, and Rafa is having one of those weeks where he’s overthought his selection decisions to the point that he’s completely outfoxed himself. (Aurélio as a central midfielder at midweek, Benayoun as a late substitute today. I sometimes imagine Wallace Shawn picking a team by trying to decide which cup has the poison in it.)