On Monday 5th May, Jamie Carragher led a chorus of hot takes following the Liverpool club statement confirming Trent Alexander-Arnold would depart at the end of his contract this summer. Real Madrid awaits.
He continued: "If that image of the homegrown talent living the dream is an illusion, people feel let down ... Fans are obviously going to be upset ... By leaving Liverpool, Alexander-Arnold is making it harder for his own club to win their 21st league title and seventh European Cup. That is bound to stir emotions ... With Monday’s statement, the unconditional support Alexander-Arnold enjoyed from the Kop when he was fully committed to Liverpool has gone."
That was Monday, then Sunday came.
"I'm surprised how many. For me, I don't believe any player putting on that red shirt who goes on to win trophies should be being booed. Booing one of your own players while they're playing is not for me."
At this point, it's worth stating, as a football fan, I agree with Carragher's sentiment. Booing your own player is not a particularly clever, edifying or productive use of oxygen, but if that's how some choose to vent their sadness, their sense of loss and betrayal, who has a right to police the outpouring?
Football should be about the young lad daydreaming of Anfield at school, knee holes in his eighth pair of school trousers this term, the bane of his mum's life, a pair of Clarks' finest black shoes scuffed and battered from clipping a prime Sports Direct Sondico against the wall outside his home, rudimentary goal posts chalked, scratched or marked with jumpers on either side.
The bright young thing goes to a half-term football camp down the local leisure centre, there's a scout there, who drifts over to the boy's parents for a chat. First contact. A decade passes, the lad has captained every rung of the youth ladder and finally breaks into the first team to rapturous applause from his own. It's all he ever wanted, and now it's everything he has.
Homegrown players are often the most celebrated in the good times and most criticised in the bad times – or when they leave.
Fans only ever dream of playing for their club, their beloved, and because 99.99 per cent don't get the nod, they're stuck perennially fantasising about pulling on their team's shirt, they don't progress to wondering how they'd feel playing for that boyhood club after a decade, after hitting virtually every target, after lifting every trophy.
With that lot in the cabinet, it's hard to ignore the appeal of a few years in Spain: playing for arguably the biggest, most successful club in the history of world football alongside several of the world's brightest stars on one of the world's grandest stages... with a bit of sun thrown in for good measure.
Of course, when the keyboards stop clacking, Trent's legacy as a Liverpool all-timer will be solidified, he will be remembered for more than one quick-thinking corner versus Barcelona. And he's even young enough to come back. The prodigal son returned after all.
Booing TAA is a raw, emotional, even uncomfortable response – but don't try to suppress it.
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