Points Make Prizes: Tackling The Anfield Wrap's 84 Point Question

Foresight tends to be as punctual as it is inaccurate. If something is to be proven right, chances are it will be too late. Seeing into the future is nigh on impossible and yet it's attempted with great regularity. The satisfaction that comes with knowing something – or at least perceiving to – in advance is very much part of the allure that comes with gambling and subsequently being rewarded for it. It doesn't matter whether they are long shots or dead certs, people can't get enough of being right.

To speak hypothetically about events that haven't occurred yet, is to flirt with fantasy. Even the most grounded and rational of responses bear only a passing semblance to reality for there are always dictating circumstances and unforeseen intangibles. These kind of scenarios are asked more because of their insight to a person's thinking as opposed to the accuracy or legitimacy of their answer.

The question – offered up by Neil Atkinson of The Anfield Wrap - that has been laid before everyone over the summer has been whether or not to duplicate last seasons net result. Nothing else, just a guaranteed eighty four points. The gamble being that it would probably guarantee Champions League football for the following campaign but potentially forfeit a title challenge in favour of stability. But before you place any bets, lets have a look at the odds.

First of all lets look at the minimum requirements. To finish in the top four next season and keep the wheels turning, over the last five seasons you would need an average of 71.8 (we'll call it 72 and from here on in, any decimal number will be rounded up). This is well below the established threshold and further proof that taking it keeps Liverpool in the Champions League for next season.

The established method of getting there was hitting the benchmark of two points per game. Win your home games, draw the aways; it was like a mantra. Since there have been quadruple places available, it would have done the job every single time until last season (Liverpool did hit this mark exactly in 06/07 so there may be an issue on goal difference but the point still stands). Over the last few years the Premier League has changed dramatically. The places that were on offer in Europe's elite competition used to be enough. Not any more.

Sky's baptised “Big four” were a glass ceiling for so long. There was very little chance of any side having the quality to break into that group and they had to be content with being better than most but nowhere near good enough. Liverpool have since fallen and risen at the same time as Manchester City's financially backed ascension. Even without looking at a resurgent United there's still Everton and Tottenham who can at least believe that they can crack into that category now. The belief is there and especially after what we've all collectively witnessed it cannot be ignored. Whatever the legitimacy of the claim, six into four doesn't work.

A decade ago the gap between third and fifth was nineteen points. It was the same the following campaign and seventeen after that. There was a definite chasm there. Two years ago Tottenham recorded their best ever Premier League haul and it wasn't good enough. Last season was the first in five in which third was double figures above fifth and even then Everton's tally was above the aforementioned average needed to qualify. It's become a whole lot harder simply to miss out entirely.

Simultaneously the quality at the front of the league has evened out a little or that the rest of it has become so bad that simply by dispatching of it consistently it's possible to bridge a gap in quality. Liverpool have done exactly that over the last twelve months and in spite of everything else, there's no reason for it to change. As such, while it's gotten harder to break into the top tier in English football; to win it has actually become easier.

Given that Brendan Rodgers' team earned enough last season to be runner up six out of the last ten, it's safe to say that any kind of repeat would be enough to put Liverpool in contention. From needing to accrue over ninety, the last five times the trophy has been lifted have all been under that mark. Over that space of time, eighty six would be enough and coincidentally that's exactly the number that was required by Manchester City. Quite simply, if there is any improvement at all, it could very well do the trick.

Even with all the prior knowledge in the world, football is never as easy as it seems on paper. A figment of my imagination playing out an alternate reality doesn't behave in quite the same way the real thing does, despite the amount of times they've been seen before. They look and feel very familiar but when the smallest detail can make the biggest difference, any kind of forecast disappears into the wind.

When the margin is so small between having the kind of success we've all waited so long for in winning the league and what would represent a massive backward step in finishing fifth or below, it's very easy to understand taking certain things for granted. Guarantees of anything – let alone a number of points – are very hard to come by in football.

Whether playing it safe or taking a chance at further glory, it has to be said that getting to the same mark again in the first place would be an achievement. Unshakable proof to the few doubters that remain that this team isn't just a flash in the pan. There are doubts that without Suarez, simply repeating isn't possible. With him in our ranks it wouldn't have been that straightforward. Easier perhaps, but who knows. When it comes to being underestimated, this team loves defying those kind of predictions.  

Football By Numbers: Why Stats Are No Fun.

On their very brightest day, facts and figures are encouraging. Nobody truly gets excited and punches the air in delight after discovering a particularly pleasing conversion rate, the reaction you're more likely to come across is one of mild appeasement. The emotional equivalent of being at a party with barely anyone you know only to discover an old acquaintance. Life isn't suddenly inexplicably perfect but it's better than it was a moment ago.

That's not to say that I'm some kind of Hodgeasaurus who doesn't believe that stats have any relevance, far from it. What can be gleamed from them is useful but no conversion rate discussion captures the excitement of Daniel Sturridge when he's through on goal. The problem is that by and large, numbers are cold and unfeeling. Mourinho-esque in their rigidity. They're a slap to the face of ambiguity, with the ability to instruct and inform but very little else.

Football is a deluge of numbers. Because of their importance, they're forever in the top left corner of the minds eye. After a period of very clearly defined seconds and minutes, all that matters is for one side of a hyphen to be greater than the other. Those on the pitch - the people we put all our faith and hope in – once they cross that line all at once lose their identity and assume that of something greater. There was a time – feels like an eternity now – when Fernando Torres' name was sung with pride. Anfield would bounce along in honour of Liverpool's number nine and while it may seem that it may now forever be the height of his fame, there was no real magic in that fabric.

That shirt has a lineage which makes it coveted, so much so that it's current occupant spoke of his pride in adorning it for the first time on Saturday against Preston. Having been associated with players of the calibre of Rush, Fowler and Heighway mean that there is expectation. Whether or not Rickie Lambert will live up to that at Liverpool is still up for grabs. One thing is for sure. He's much more worthy of such a label than El Hadji Diouf ever was. Iago Aspas' decision to take that shirt last year looked brave and endeared him somewhat but ultimately only ever added a pressure his ability wasn't able to cope with. I doubt he'd make that same choice twice.

It goes even further than that. People generate their favourite figure by any number of frivolous means. Sometimes they're even capable of wielding some kind of magic. I'm not sure quite how a symbol used to represent quantity was somehow conferred these powers but thirteen in particular has a reputation. For better or worse, our strive for individuality leads to this. Fondness can be found because of any remote connection. The reason that Liverpool have a relationship with the number five is not because of our collective worship of terrible boy bands from the nineties. Similarly United love 1999 because they're all massive Prince fans. Obviously.

I've been told that they never lie, but Shakira's hips tell me they're not telling the whole truth. A last minute winner numerically speaking is the same as any other goal. It's simply one more to the tally. There's no way what happened in the dying moments at Craven Cottage in February can be described as trivially as that. Three points may be all that were awarded that day, same as any other victory. The manner in which they were obtained and the momentum that followed will never be represented.

Brendan Rodgers and his team have over the last twelve months kept the scoreboard ticking impressively. Over a hundred goals. Eighty four points. In the end however, it didn't quite add up. Looking at the table at the end of the season made for joyless reading, if you focus solely on the numbers. What'll raise a smile in years to come will not be sums and tallys, but headers and volleys.

Endings are the perspective from which all history is written. Those that triumph – have and always will set the narrative. The final score becomes the point from which the story is told. Any previous events that do not fit that mould are either bent into shape or discarded altogether. Spain were moments away from going into their encounter with the Netherlands in Salvador. David Silva probably should have doubled that lead moments before Daley Blind's cross field ball and Van Persie's incredible leap. Five-one doesn't care about all that. The result will even gloss over the epic nature of the goal which ultimately turned the tide. Five-one remains unmoved.

As languages go, binary does not have the capacity to convey Coutinho's goal against Manchester City. It was a feeling that can barely be quantified into words, let alone digits. There was something very Shakespearian about last year. Old Bill at his uppermost grandiose. Often baffling, defying all convention and eventually turning to tragedy. To address it simply in ones and twos would be to ignore what joy there remains in football.

Only one team can ultimately be crowned Champions of England and just because Liverpool slipped on their way to the throne does not invalidate everything that went before it. A sequence of incredible adventures that stir the heart, not a series of complex equations that tax the mind. Last season wasn't about an upward gradient. It was poetry in motion.