#Martin Skrtel

[daniel-munthe-agger]

Jurgen Klopp with the Liverpool Legends team

[lfc-unbelievables]

bobby described by liverpool

[percervall]

asgbhdsanfcd this is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill

Martin and Danny reunited at last in Liverpool red 😭

[cumpletesoccerfanatic]

Martin Škrtel

[mes-que-un-juego]

Xabi Alonso has been bringing me joy and breaking my heart every damn day since I learned his name. And now I found out (from an interview with Martin Skrtel) that he might be coming back to Liverpool as manager next season.

Please please football gods make it happen. :')

[egyptianking]

I know we might have mentioned this but Martin Skrtel has hair now ‼️ and he's so fit ‼️

[lfcmaverickfans]

Martin Skrtel reveals unlikely position change with Slovakian hometown club

… 0 source https://www.thisisanfield.com/2023/03/martin-skrtel-reveals-unlikely-position-change-with-slovakian-hometown-club/

[fedepool]

my cbs 🫡

SOMEBODY SEDATE MEEEEEEEEEEE

[apsny-news]

Fenerbahçe’nin eski futbolcusu Martin Skrtel’den geçmiş olsun mesajı!

Türkiye‘ye gelen Martin Skrtel, hem takım olarak hem de bireysel olarak depremzedelere yardım desteğinde bulunduğunu söyledi. Yaşanan depremleri büyük bir trajedi olarak tanımlayan Martin Skrtel; “5 yıldan beri burada yaşıyorum ve ben, eşim ailem bu ülkeyi, insanlarını seviyoruz. Sempatimi göstermek istiyorum. Türkiye’ye geçmiş olsun diyorum. Biz Türkiye’yi seviyoruz. Şu an tüm dünya bir araya…

[liverpoolfixtures]

Liverpool remain interested in signing Turkish goalkeeper Ugurcan Cakir from Trabzonspor and have been given a recommendation for the 23-year-old by one of their former players. As reported by Turkish media outlet Takvim, as covered by Sporx, [via Sport Witness], ex-Reds defender Martin Skrtel delivered a positive verdict on the ‘keeper after the Anfield club approached him for his views on Cakir, with whom the Slovakian would be familiar from his time in Turkey with Fenerbahce and current side Istanbul Basaksehir. Liverpool’s interest in the 23-year-old is a long-standing one, having sent scouts to watch him playing for Trazbonspor last September, as per the Daily Mail. Why might Liverpool be interested in Ugurcan Cakir? Cakir has been the first-choice goalkeeper for Turkish league leaders Trabzonspor this season, with 33 appearances in all competitions. He has conceded 39 goals in that time (1.18 per game) but has managed only four clean sheets (12.1% of games), with none in his last six outings despite his team going 11 league matches unbeaten. [via TransferMarkt] He does, however, have strong figures for saves made, averaging 3.3 per game and repelling 76% of shots faced (as per SofaScore). His saves per game ratio is higher than that of Liverpool duo Alisson (2.3) and Adrian (1.6) and while the Brazilian has a better shot-stopping average (80%), Cakir outranks the Spaniard (64%) in that regard. As noted by i News, the Turkish netminder has been “praised for his shot stopping, reach and technique” and, at 6 ft 3, he boasts a towering presence between the sticks. Also, in the match against Fenerbahce at which Liverpool scouts were present, he pulled off no fewer than eight saves in a 1-1 draw (as per i News). Should Liverpool strongly consider buying Ugurcan Cakir? Cakir’s shortage of clean sheets is a concern and he falls well behind Liverpool’s first choice goalkeeper Alisson in this regard, with the Brazilian’s tally of 10 in the Premier League (from 20 games) the joint-second highest in the division. The 27-year-old has a far better concession rate, too, having been beaten only 17 times in 28 appearances this season (0.61 goals conceded per game). His recent hip injury has led to Adrian deputising in goal and the past couple of weeks have not been kind to the Spaniard, who committed costly errors in defeats to Chelsea and Atletico Madrid which saw the Reds knocked out of two competitions this month. He has shipped 24 goals in 18 Liverpool games (1.33 per game) and kept only three clean sheets (12.5% of games). His shutout rate is marginally better than Cakir but the Trazbonspor man concedes fewer goals on average. With Andy Lonergan due to leave the club once his contract expires in the summer, and Adrian performing erratically of late, Jurgen Klopp may feel compelled to enhance his goalkeeping options. Young Caoimhin Kelleher is already in place but he has zero Premier League experience and recently suffered a serious knee injury, so Klopp may want a fresher and more proven backup to Alisson. Cakir could be a useful option if the Reds need another backup goalkeeper next season and seems like an upgrade on Adrian, although his goal concession and clean sheet returns do not inspire a huge degree of confidence. Do you think Liverpool should heed Skrtel’s advice on Cakir or does he seem too erratic a goalkeeper to deputise for Alisson? Have your say by commenting below! #premierleague, #livematch, #livestream, #skysports, #premierleaguetv, #epl, #epl2023, #premier league, #premierleaguetable, #epl table, #eplfixtures, #ipl2021 live, #premierleaguefixtures, #fantasypremier eague, #eplresults, #epllivescores, #premierleague results, #pltable, #chelseafixtures, #eplscores, #arsenalfixtures, #premier leaguestandings, #eplstandings, #plfixtures, #eplschedule, #ipllive 2023, #dstvpremiership, #premierleaguetable2023, #pslfixtures, #epllive, #premiershiptable, #eplresultstoday, #eplfixturestoday, #Bitcoin, #Dolars

[ivyswriting]

Title: Aftermath

Pairing: Daniel Agger/Fernando Torres, Daniel Agger/Martin Skrtel

Rating: R for some smut / bad words

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except the story.

A/N: Wrote this in the depression of post-transfer window events. Angsty and self-indulgent. I’m still at a loss over what to say about this.

Summary: I didn’t want to forgive him. I still don’t.

I didn’t want to forgive him.

I still don’t.

-

The locker rooms are emptier without him. No more fumbling English phrases that eventually bleed into Spanish, no more freckled faces to look out for on the field. Dark lashes no longer wink coyly at me.

It is the end of an era.

Everyone shifts back into a semblance of normalcy, just two days after the man whose name I am afraid to say is gone.

I don’t even bother to say a single word throughout practice.

-

The car that I see after training is a familiar sight, and equally as familiar is the tall, lean figure who rests against the boot. Waiting, patiently, like he always does.

This time, he looks awful. Dark circles have taken up residence under his usually cheerful eyes, while his hair, usually styled so perfectly, is limp, lips pressed sullenly into a frown. Despite it all, he is the picture of weary gorgeousness. I’m fighting against the instinct to run, to scream, to throw punches in every direction I can. To break his nose, break his heart.

He doesn’t say a word when I pull up. He has his pride, I’m sure.

I leave the car. He watches. I wear the red of my team colours, while he has shed them for blue. He gives me a hard look, predatory, angry - which he has no right to feel. Under his gaze, a shiver of erotic want fizzles through me, feeling almost like betrayal in the pit of my stomach as it rushes through my veins. I walk calmly away so that he won’t know how much I still want him in my bed.

We play them next week.

-

I lace up my boots and pretend that I’m not counting the number of hours it has been since he has left us for good.

The sun is surprisingly hot for February. I look away from the glare, and on the side lines, lacing up his own pair of boots, is Skrtel bent over on the bench. The sun makes him look ethereal, even with his ever-present scowl, like some sort of fallen angel. I have never noticed how curved and pretty his cheekbones are. My eyes widen in interest.

Pepe clears his throat, loud enough from me to hear, and from the corner of my eye, I can see him keeping watch on me.

I think he knows I’m starting to get very restless.

-

I undress. A palm as light as a feather presses into the small of my back and my entire body freezes. It’s not the smooth, cool, freckled hands that I want, on my skin, but the hard, rough fingers of someone I don’t yet recognise.

“You’re in my way.” Skrtel murmurs, and it’s deep and dragged out, tinged with an accent that’s nothing like my tendency to stretch vowels too high.

I close the locker and walk off, barely giving him a glance. “I was leaving anyway.”

We are the only two left in the locker room, which may be why he has the boldness to murmur, “I want you.” The rough, hard voice in my ear is tempting and I shiver, but beneath that, there is hardly enough emotion to warrant undying devotion.

But it’s enough.

In the next moment, he slams me against the wall and I let him. My legs curl around his hips, our lips meeting in a hot and wet kiss that borders on desperation, and I let him fuck me as hard as he can. He is, if nothing, a fantastic lover.

I ask him, after I take my second shower of the day, if Pepe put him up to this.

He pretends he doesn’t hear my question.

-

I get home later than I want to, because the restlessness is killing me, making me sick with discontentment. I pull up to the drive way and see that same, familiar car not too far off. I ignore the little jump of my heart and the sweatiness of my palms.

I don’t meet his eyes from the drivers’ seat when I get out of my car. I grab my keys and walk, undaunted, to the front door.

He doesn’t deserve it, but I did turn back to glance at him. Once.

-

I am sullen and quiet throughout practice and it is hardly a surprise when Skrtel dallies around the locker room while I pack my things slowly, making sure to drag out every last second I can. The last player leaves, and again we are alone. This time, he doesn’t bother with words: he’s always been a quiet one.

His teeth bruise my shoulder and later, his hand grabs my thigh too hard and leaves a painful ache. I grip the muscles of his back to hold on as he fucks me hard, and hope to make him bleed with the intensity of my kisses. But we’re both left satisfied in the end- and this is all there is to it.

It has only been four days since he’s left.

-

The car shows up again, and like the first time, he’s leaning on the boot, looking tired. I have marks on my neck, my lips are swollen, and my hair is still wet from the shower.

He watches me pass by him as if nothing’s wrong, as if I’ve not been upset and tortured by the memory of him for the past four days. He grabs my arm and I see red, like little bursts of anger just shooting through my system. I turn and my fist catches one of those pretty cheekbones, hard enough to bruise but not shatter, like I wanted.

The pain blossoms through him quickly, and the red that stains the side of his face on impact leaves me feeling vaguely satisfied. There you go - let’s see you try to cover that red up with blue. My thoughts turn dark and angry.

He makes no noise. I resist the urge to spit in his face while I turn to leave.

We’ll play them in three days.

-

Skrtel fucks me again. And again. He likes to make me beg for it, and I indulge him.

I go home every night and see the familiar car parked along my road and feel the burn in my hand where I’d hit him.

I close my eyes before I go to bed and inactively, I think about him.

I wish to see the bruise.

-

Tonight, Skrtel doesn’t stay, and neither do I. I watch him go, and relief sinks into my system. I do not think I can spend another fuck trying hard not to scream out another man’s name.

The drive home is awkward, like there’s something missing. It’s this change of routine that I hate.

I pull up to my driveway an hour too early. There is no familiar car waiting for me, nor any sign of the man whose bruised cheek I want to see so badly.

I stare out of my window for two hours before I drag my weary self to bed.

-

A sudden, harsh knock on my door stirs me. But I curl up into my sheets and refuse to answer.

I hear keys fumble outside and my heart stops. There is only one other person with the keys to my door.

Before I can reach the door to secure a second lock, he lets himself in. The bruise on his cheek makes him look atrocious. But beautiful, too, because how can he look anything less than gorgeous?

My chest tightens and I realise that I’m naked, and hard from my sleep.

I let his eyes snake down my body, inviting him to see all of me and what he’s been missing. I hope he feels the loss so keenly when I’m standing before him, like this.

He takes three steps forward until our bodies brush, his own fingers reaching for his shirt to pull it off and my mouth goes dry, just like that. He smells delicious, and I need to kiss him, need to touch him so badly my fingers are itching and my lips are already parting.

His fingers trail slowly down his body and I watch their descent, until they stop to tug at his jeans. Unzip them. Pull them off. He’s not wearing underwear. My eyes snap back up to his face.

Up close, the bruise is nothing like I’d imagined. The red has turned to purple - dark, brutish purple, and faintly I think of it as an obscene mixture of red and blue and I take my palm to cover it, watching him wince and shudder under my fingers.

He takes a deep, calming breath and I kiss him, softly, the guilt of the past week consuming and yet, enthralling. I thread fingers into his dark hair and open my mouth, whether to taste him more fully or to moan, I don’t quite know, but there is a heady mixture of both impulses there. He tastes like sweet fruit and suddenly I’m a tempted, fallen, sinful man.

He touches me like I’m precious - guides roving fingers over the bruises that Skrtel’s left, making sure he kisses each one, even those between my thighs and against my spine. He takes me to bed, his lips swollen with the taste of me and his eyes dark and hungry for me and a faint sheen of sweat covering his body. I cannot peel my eyes away from the gorgeous sight of him, no matter how hard I try.

He leans between my spread legs, a faint smile on his face, and it feels like old times again. No more colours distinguish us - no more betrayal to foul the air - he is mine and mine alone and I drag his mouth down to my lips to muffle the cries that spill from me as he enters me. Oh, sweet familiarity. It is drug-like and intoxicating - his touch, his love, his thrusts: and I’m caught in the anguish of a storm. I want to curse, to drag my nails down his back and make him bleed, to angle a kick right at the knee that I know to be especially vulnerable - but I don’t. He makes love to me and I’m helpless to act upon vengeful thoughts.

In the end, it feels more perfect than anything I’ve ever done in my life.

-

I wake up. Fernando is lying beside me, his hair messy and a peaceful expression on his face. The bruise has faded a little. Come stains the sheets, I’m sore between my legs and there’s nothing more that I’d like to do than to make love to him all over again.

But it’s morning and my good sense is starting to act up. The tremendous itch to bruise him, to hurt him physically doesn’t leave. I trail my eyes down the bare expanse of his back, down the delicious curve of ass, to eye his hamstring, his weak knee, his ankle. Oh, it would be so easy to snap them and leave him benched for months.

But I don’t. He doesn’t stay long enough for me to dwell on murderous thoughts. He leaves the apartment, and I think:

I didn’t want to forgive him.

I still don’t.

-

We play them in seven hours.

-

fin

—

So I wrote this fic in the wake of the 2011 January transfer saga (and where my heart was broken for the very first time when Fernando left Liverpool), and it was an experimental angsty story that was cathartic for me at the time. I still really love it, even though it’s such a great departure from the stories I now write. It’ll always have a cute little place in my heart.

[daniel-munthe-agger]

[lfc-unbelievables]

May the chaotic spirit of Martin Skrtel be with us tonight. May his beautiful bald head rein terror over the English like it did in that opening 20 minutes against arsenal in that one game.

[percervall]

Silver-goal : What do you consider as the most beautiful goal you have witness ? 

Trikot : What is your favorite football kit ? 

Game : Is there a “casual” game (not a final, not a derby…) that you remember dearly and why ?

Penalty : What is the most extraordinary thing you have seen during a game ? (And why is it Darwin Nunez’s abs?)

💛 love you!

Silver goal: The first one that came to mind was that last minute Fabio Carvalho stunner. The other one is that goal Xabi Alonso scored from the halfway line against Luton in the FA cup

Trikot: Obviously, the LFC home kit. I also love the green kit we have this season. Love the coal and steel kit Borussia Dortmund came out with as well

Game: Hmm... The only thing that comes to mind are the legend matches Liverpool host 🤭 I'm not old enough to remember all of the former players, but I fell in love with the Liverpool of Dirk Kuyt, Martin Skrtel, Steven Gerrard, Glen Johnson...

Penalty: I mean-

Never stood a chance

In all fairness, it might be the Spain NT during that period where Mou was still at Real Madrid and he kept telling his players that the Barça boys loathed them. Remarkable how they managed to put that aside for the national team (it required quite a lot of conversations between players from both clubs to realise it was mostly a lie to rile them up)

thank you! 🥰

[carlaloveslfc]

[fedepool]

i lowkey can't wait for my man martin skrtel to retire just to see him back in a liverpool shirt with daniel for the lfc foundation games :(