Liverpool’s inconsistency is a gift to Premier League fans

It seems likely that the 2016-17 edition of the Premier League will be a little less ridiculous than the last. After all, 5,000-1 shots never come in once, so certainly won’t be coming in twice. What goes up must come down, as Isaac Newton once said. The second apple is just a bump on the head.

Thanks heavens, then, for Liverpool. Last Saturday, Jürgen Klopp’s side exploded into the league campaign with a fanfare of a victory over Arsenal, coming from behind at the Emirates to win by the odd goal in seven. It was messy, it was exhilarating, and it was a statement of intent. A warning to the rest of the league. Liverpool are coming. Tremble.

Then this weekend they lost 2-0 to Burnley.

Much has been made of the vast and amusing disparity in the basic statistics of the game. Liverpool had more than 80 percent of possession yet couldn’t score a single one of their 26 shots; Burnley’s two goals came from a mere three attempts. But even more striking -- and making allowances for the fact that Burnley, unlike Arsenal, seem to know how to defend -- was the extent to which Liverpool: Week Two looked nothing like Liverpool: Week One. Flat where they had been vibrant, unimaginative where they had been fizzing. And, of course, wearing, a borderline illegal shade of hyperaggressive neon called “Toxic Thunder,” which is enough to put anybody off their passing shapes. So stark was the contrast that, in the spirit of early season hope and optimism, we can start to hope that Liverpool, this season, might just become that truly special thing: a completely unpredictable team.

Unpredictable teams are not bad teams, let’s be clear on that. But they can be. They can also be good teams. They can be great, and they can be messy, and they can be all of the above at the same time. Most of all, however, their form is … well, it’s not really form at all, in the sense that we usually mean it. There’s no consistency in results, no peaks and troughs. Something happens. Then the next week, something else happens. The two weeks seem to bear no relation to one another, and then another week rolls around and ... nope, that doesn’t really fit in, either. Ah well. Let’s see what happens next week. And the season doesn’t so much unfold, with all the neat and causal implications therein, as spatter out into the void, daring the observer to try and find some kind of pattern.

Liverpool aren’t quite there yet, of course. There’s still a couple of identifiable consistencies at play. The shonkiness of the defence is the most obvious, along with perhaps the limitations of Jordan Henderson. But equally, it’s not impossible to imagine a coherent defensive unit suddenly appearing from this squad, for a game or two, assuming they can find some way of filling the sinkhole at left back. Or Henderson finding a role and the form that caused Brendan Rodgers, less than a year after trying to sell him to Fulham, to identify his absence as the key factor that cost the team the title. And keeping that form going for two, maybe three games, before turning back into the exceptionally angry man stood in slightly the wrong place that we saw at Turf Moor.

There is extraordinary variance throughout Liverpool’s squad. Daniel Sturridge can score goals of sublime majesty during a game in which he’s basically taking no part -- last year’s Europa League final, for example -- while Philippe Coutinho can be ready to join the company of Lionel Messi one week, then blamming long shots into the Lancashire sky the next. Dejan Lovren and Mamadou Sakho are perfectly acceptable -- even good -- central defenders, except when the RNG numbers in their knees send them tumbling to the floor or flying through the air. And Simon Mignolet; ah, Simon Mignolet. The Mr Inconsistency all other Mr. Inconsistencies dream of one day becoming, for a bit. You can see it in his eyes, in that tiny flickering flame of panic that sits deep inside his pupils. He has no idea what the hell is going to happen next, and he really hopes it’s going to be okay.

This is, presumably, of deep concern and frustration to anybody that wants Liverpool to do well, and eliminating the inconsistency from a talented squad is, if anything, an even more important part of Jürgen Klopp’s job than running around in the technical area, wearing glasses and occasionally cursing. Consistency, after all, is what wins titles, and is what anchored Liverpool’s two decades of extreme trophy greed. Exciting or dull, efficient or extravagant; the great teams can repeat their styles, and so their results, week after week after week. And common sense suggests that a few more months of Klopp on the training ground, particularly in the absence of European football, should see some kind of sense emerging.

But let’s hope not. For the majority of the Premier League’s audience, a delightfully inconsistent Liverpool might just be the thing to help negotiate the post-Leicester come down. They’ve got a cup game coming up against Burton Albion, and then a trip to Tottenham in the Premier League. What a gift it is, to be able to look at those fixtures, and then at Liverpool, and be entirely unconfident in any possible predictions and so equally confident in them all. If they can keep it up (by, er, not keeping it up) then they might prove a welcome distraction from the unedifying sight of watching Chelsea and both halves of Manchester attempt to keep up with the remorseless and utterly predictable march of Hull City.