At one end of Anfield, on the front rows of the Real Madrid section, there was a marriage proposal before kick-off. Happily, it appeared to be accepted.
Elsewhere, the bitterness and rancour of a recent divorce remained audible and visible. For Trent Alexander Arnold and Liverpool, it seems cordiality and respect will never return.
‘Trent’, they used to call him round here. Now, it’s ‘rat’. On the mural that depicts a local boy’s rise to stardom near this famous stadium, that emotively disparaging word had even been adapted for his first visit here with his new club. ‘El Rato’, it said in white graffiti paint. Message received and understood in whichever language you choose to use.
Alexander-Arnold wasn’t even playing on this occasion. Injury – from which he has only just recovered – limited him to a seat on the substitutes bench until 10 late and spectacularly unproductive minutes. Nevertheless, he will not have been surprised by what came his way.
Booed on to the field for the warm-ups, he merely smiled in that faintly distant way of his. Then a chat and a cuddle with former team-mates Cody Gakpo and Curtis Jones followed. It was all a little predictable and, if we are honest, a little lame.
‘There’s only one Conor Bradley’ they sang on the Kop as the game started and this cut to the real point of all this which is that during their early season struggles Liverpool have really missed Alexander-Arnold as a footballer.
All the noise last season was about betrayal or a young man’s right to choose, whichever your point of view. What was rarely mentioned was how on earth Liverpool manager Arne Slot was possibly going to replace him.
The truth is that it’s impossible and maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Alexander-Arnold is pretty much unique in terms of how he plays the role of full-back. Young Bradley – an Irishman – is more of a traditional attacking runner than a passer of range. This, though, turned out to be a very good night for Bradley to have one of his best Liverpool games.
Up against Real’s capriciously talented Brazilian winger Vinicius Jr, Bradley was fabulous in both halves of the field and when a booking came following a duel between the two it went the way of the Real player, cautioned for halting a Bradley surge through the middle with a clumsy protrusion of the leg.
Bradley’s dynamic with Mo Salah – who plays ahead of him down the right – is also different. Alexander-Arnold’s supply to the Egyptian was mesmeric at times. Indeed they were showing some examples of it on the big screen by the Liverpool megastore before the teams arrived. That had a bit of a salt in wound feel about it.
But this is a Liverpool team that is having to learn how to play a little differently and Salah and his relationship with his full-back – be it Bradley or Jeremie Frimpong – is very much a part of that. What has not changed, meanwhile, is Salah’s unwillingness to double up in his own half when danger threatens. Bradley will know all about that already.
This, though, was a night when Liverpool took what appeared to be a significant step down the road to better form. They were excellent. When Alexis MacAllister scored his team’s goal on the hour, Alexander-Arnold looked rather bemused on the bench. On the field, Real had looked a bit dizzy for a while as their goalkeeper Thibaut Courtois kept them in it.
Alexander-Arnold will have been familiar with much of what he saw as Liverpool played with energy, tempo, confidence and precision. He may even have been a little bit impressed.
Perhaps rather sensibly, Real coach Xabi Alonso kept him in his seat until he felt he really needed him. With 10 minutes left, Alexander-Arnold arrived to unanimous derision and that followed him whenever he touched the ball.
There was to be no miraculous intervention. Indeed his most noteable and final contribution was to swing in a cross so overhit that Bradley was able to collect it by the touchline on the far side.
Bradley’s name was sung loud again at the end as was Steven Gerrard’s. That one was meant as an endorsement of the loyalty of a one-club man. Ultimately, though, as this domestic dispute between a boy and his club rolls on, victory for Liverpool spoke louder than the words of a song or contents of a spray can ever could.
