The Downfall of Jordan Henderson Made Me Reflect on My Own Life

Jorden

I always feel the need to start any Liverpool-adjacent blog with a disclaimer. In 2013, when NBC started showing the Premier League and made a big show of it, I decided to start watching. Why not? I loved the Word Cup. I knew who Ronaldo and Messi were. It seemed like a fun sport to get into on Saturday mornings. 

And in those Saturday mornings I needed a team to cheer for. I couldn’t decide on my own (I just knew no Manchester United because they’re supervillains), so I turned to the internet. I genuinely think I Googled something stupid like “Premier League support quiz.” With that search I found the Bill Simmons blog that created an American Liverpudlian. I became obsessed. 

And that was a good year to become obsessed, because Liverpool was that team. And I mean they were that team. Liverpool under Brendan Rodgers – Captain Character – was enthralling that year. They could not defend to save their life. But Liverpool with Suarez, Sturridge, and Sterling was something else. And then you had guys like Martin Skrtel. There was the Scouse Cafu, Jon Flanagan. There was Captain Fantastic himself, Steven Gerrard. There was the Little Magician, Phillipe Coutinho. Can you forget Joe Allen?

And there was Jordan Henderson.

Here’s to You Jordan Henderson

I could spend a whole 10,000-word blog talking about that 2013/14 team and the SSS connection. I will tell my children about the 2017/18 team that beat Manchester City at home (side note: I saw a comment on Reddit after that game that was effectively, “I lost my virginity last night, and this game was legitimately better.”). I can tell you where I was for for the Barcelona game, where I was when I saw Man City tied Chelsea making Liverpool Premier League Champions (it’s actually the same place). I still think about Alisson scoring a header to save Liverpool’s season.

And in all those teams, in all those moments, in the enormous downs of the Brodgers-era, and the mountainous highs of the champions of England, Europe, and the World, there’s Jordan Henderson.

Jordan Henderson was never my favorite player. I loved Bobby Firmino the most. He taught me how much fun soccer could be; he taught me the joy that you could find playing a game. Henderson was also never the most fun player to watch. That was Sadio Manè, Mohammed Salah, and Luis Suarez (especially against Norwich).

(Quick disclaimer: I know Firmino and Manè are in the Saudi League too, but they left in very different ways, and they don’t have the same cog effect).

To be fair, Jordan Henderson was also a controversial player. Not in that he was ever controversial for his off-the-field actions. He was actually a pretty good guy; he’s an MBE and was very into charity. Helping others was kind of his bread and butter off the pitch (obvious foreshadowing).

But he was never super flashy. Sure he’d have moments of brilliance like in 2015 when he scored against Manchester City. He also had this nasty habit of only passing sideways. Or backwards. Or really in any way that wasn’t very contributory to the forward progress of the team. This was probably because he needed to play more defensively.

These were the years of leaky backlines and new players. Even with that, Henderson was the guy on the team that made the team work. He was the necessary cog in a team trying to find an identity. And when that team did find that identity he controlled the midfield. He watched after his guys. He even got called the best player in the world at his position in 2019. People had been appalled Jordan Henderson was named the captain of Liverpool after the Liverpool captain, the Liverpool guy took his talents to LA.

But he proved everyone wrong. He became the captain of a prosperous, world champion Liverpool. Jordan Henderson was there for the really bad times, like losing to Crystal Palace. But he was there, front and center, for the best times. He even made his own signature celebration for trophy lifts.

In all that, Jordan Henderson was the constant. The world changed, Liverpool changed, and my world changed, a lot from 2013-2023. But he was the necessary cog. He was the constant.

M.O.N.E.Y.

I didn’t believe the reports when I first saw them this past summer. Because it wasn’t supposed to end this way for him. This isn’t the way a it was supposed to end. This may be controversial, but it made me think of the reaction to Kobe’s death. Extremely weird comparison, but it was the most similar comparison to something so…odd.

Steven Gerrard stayed at Liverpool until his body wouldn’t allow him (or at least that’s the prevailing narrative from Liverpool). So Jordan Henderson was supposed to stay until it was his time to pass the armband to someone like Trent Alexander-Arnold. But I should have known, because Steven Gerrard went to manage Al-Ettifaq. There was something demoralizing about that, because the little secret want from every Liverpool fan was a Steven Gerrard return to Anfield as the Liverpool manager (even though Pep Lijnders is right there). That’s one Liverpool captain down.

And then the rumormill really started churning. And the wallets started opening. And a guy at the end of his career was offered one last, absolutely huge payday. And he took it.

Jordan Henderson, the Liverpool captain for the new golden age, ended his tenure with a whimper of 15 million euros, and a bang of confusion.

And when he left, those feelings, those memories, started to change. People were obviously and reasonably annoyed. It was never outrage. It wasn’t even some sort of righteous anger; no one was talking about how morally superior they were. People were just betrayed. Most importantly, Liverpool fans were betrayed. He was their captain (I say their, because even though I love the team, my connection is from an ocean away).

He was rightfully criticized. He needed to be criticized. Sure maybe there’s a “get that bag” response, but there’s getting the bag by moving to America to play in the MLS. And then there’s Saudi Arabia, the hosts of the 2034 World Cup (or at least I think so).

That brings us to this past week. Henderson was somehow called up for international duty for England. And during the stint he was rightfully booed.

Booed for everything he had done. Booed for the monetary opulence he symbolized. Booed for, well, just everything. Gareth Southgate tried to stand up for him, but no one was buying it. He even gave the weirdest statement, saying “I don’t know why I was booed, but I understand the fans’ view.” Which makes it seem very much like he knows why he was booed.

And that’s where the story of Jordan Henderson is now. The guy who’s booed.

And In the End, There’s Me

I was actually planning on this blog being more about Jordan Henderson and less about me. I had a completely different blog written, that focused more on Henderson’s time at Liverpool, and how the fans of Liverpool and England were repulsed by his decisions. But as I was writing it, I ended up profoundly sad. I think it was when I wrote that sentence in the second section about how Jordan Henderson was the constant in my life when I was changing so much.

I think anyone who clicked on the blog may have expected me to write some monologue about how Jordan Henderson made me realize some of my own transgressions (Spoiler: Saudi Arabia has yet to offer me any money). But really what Jordan Henderson’s downfall made me realize was simple: I got older and time moved on.

Sure, when Sadio Mane left I was sad. But Sadio Mane hadn’t been on that first Liverpool team. When Bobby Firmino left I cried, but mostly because I genuinely loved him and how he played; he was the first athlete I ever watched where I thought, “that man is genuinely very weird.”

But Henderson, Henderson made me sad. Not in the I’m really going to miss watching him play way. Nor in the Wow this is the end way. But in the Oh way. Oh that this is how the story ends. This is how a decade of my life ended. There wasn’t some big celebration or marking of the occasion. Sure, there had been little parties and affirmations along the way. But there wasn’t a finality. It just changed.

Jordan Henderson leaving made me realize that I got older. Leaving made me realize how different the 2013 Jorden is from the 2023 Jorden who’s sitting here writing this, finally “beginning” life. Jordan Henderson leaving Liverpool was the end of a period of my life of constant change, worry, and exploration of self.

I’ve never felt this way about another player. When Carlos Correa left the Astros I didn’t have some kind of existential crisis of self. When Jose Altuve retires, I don’t think I’ll have this same moment of reflection. Not because they weren’t two integral players to teams I loved. But I found Liverpool as I was ending high school and beginning college. I found Liverpool as I entered adulthood, left my childhood home, and started to figure out who Jorden really was. And in all that, Jordan was there.

So maybe the point is Jordan Henderson made me realize how far I’ve come; how much I’ve changed. This blog wasn’t meant to be sentimental, existential, or any other -al. It was just meant to be a “whoa that’s weird” moment.

Jordan Henderson’s downfall will be talked about. It is talked about. But in all that discussion, I see something else: me and my story and how it’s changed. There’s probably something in that about how sports is the perfect time marker. But for now, goodbye Jordan Henderson.

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