Salah-lah-lah

International Break Dispatch: 9/9/23

Here is where I out myself as a Liverpool fan. I hope I’ve been objective up to this point, and I promise to approach my analysis clear-headedly and even-handedly no matter the result for the club I support (and for their rivals as well). There will be plenty of time to explain how I, a Maine-born nerd with no direct ties to England since my family emigrated centuries ago, came to love a club thousands of miles away. However, today is not that time - because today is for celebrating Mohamed Salah. 

The transfer window in Saudi Arabia has finally closed, and, with the whoosh of its slamming, a transfer saga (if there ever really was one) has come to an end. For weeks snowballing media attention seemed certain that gallons of money was sure to bring the 31 year old Egyptian winger to new shores. Sky Sports’ transfer day coverage was filled wall to wall with speculation, even though consensus seems to have pointed to Liverpool already having put the matter to bed. 

In some ways, I understand. It would be massive news, a huge coup. A man who’s largely been the face of one of the most successful clubs of the last 8 years may have been whisked away without replacement. I’ll leave the scoops to more connected writers and the cost/benefit analysis for a later date. Football is so popular because it makes people feel gigantic emotions. So, I want to try to put into words what Mo Salah means to me. 

He came to the club out of the blue, apparently as a cheaper option than Klopp’s preferred target Julian Brandt. But, any lingering doubts the manager might have had were quickly whisked away. Salah showed off his incredible pace from day one. It got even better once it became evident that his speed was simply one aspect of his game, a foundation on which Salah built a world class talent. A smiling blur that terrorized defenders, coursing down the wing with clinical mischief in his heart. 

The initial excitement never waned for fans of the Merseyside club, if anything it grew. It grew along with Salah’s clear dedication to personal improvement. It grew as his song became known world wide, yelled on the Kop and at bars and living rooms around the world. His joy while playing let fans in, his passion for winning bonded him to us. He became synonymous with Liverpool: the club, the city, the identity. He - along with Jürgen Klopp - is also symbolic of Liverpool’s rise. He joined just in time to lead them to a Champions League final, ushering in a period of dominance (with some notable exceptions) that had felt out of reach for the club for quite a few years.

For me, he’s been a bit of a north star. He’s felt constant in a few years of tremendous upheaval in my life and the world at large. Somehow, it’s calming to know that - if a lofted pass is flighted down the right wing - he’ll be there to meet it. 

I know all things end. I know that they have to. But is it wrong that I wasn’t ready? So, when the clock ticked over, and there was officially no chance of Salah leaving this window, I felt not just relief but an obligation to enjoy his time left at the club. Each sprint down the pitch, each evisceration of an opposing fullback, each grumpy reaction to being substituted, and - of course - each goal will have added weight, added importance. 

The end is coming for Salah at Anfield. Even if he doesn’t leave next summer, it’s incredibly unlikely he’ll sign another contract extension. When the day comes, Liverpool fans like me will have to make peace with their sadness, their melancholic gratitude for the moments Mo brought. Hopefully now it will be easier. Hopefully now he can leave to a massive ovation and a chorus of “Salah-lah-lah” and not in a last minute move. My hope is that, when he plays his last game, we’ll know, so that we can close a chapter together and be grateful for having shared time together.