It really is strange to think that a man like Roy Evans, a football man of enviable principle, should be required to spend so much of his time tiptoeing across eggshells as he seeks to clear up the mess left behind by other, altogether less discreet souls.
As a major contributor to the Liverpool legend, it also seems rather unjust that he should have been invited to lead from the front at the precise moment his club was metamorphosing into a tacky cross between soap opera and sitcom - a sort of footballing Home and Away.
Even on Saturday, at a point in the early evening when his self-deprecating humour was being used to adequately shield an immense sense of disappointment, Evans was asked to journey away from his prepared speech to explain why it was that the relationship between his players and the media had all but collapsed just a fortnight into the new season.
There he was again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, conjuring up words of wisdom to justify the actions of others.
He deserves better. Evans is invariably referred to as "honest and decent" by those who cross his path.
The problem with being perceived to be everyone's best friend is that when circumstances demand a spot of teeth gnashing or general wailing, no one takes you seriously.
Privately at least, Evans has all but conceded that he will be required to move either upstairs or downstairs unless the Premiership champions' pennant is found to be fluttering above Anfield come season's end.
Despite a wretched start, he has, arguably, assembled a squad which is quite capable of achieving such a feat.
Certainly he bought and sold wisely during the summer even if his failure to address the "James Factor" continues to mystify.
All successful teams boast an exceptional goalkeeper but in Liverpool's insular world, David James has come to represent the San Andreas fault.
Although entertaining, this was a most curious game, a positive delight in its many peaks, and absolute nonsense in its many troughs.
To Blackburn Rovers, the football and the possession, to Liverpool, sufficient chances to have won by a distance.
Victory would certainly have been Liverpool's had Steve McManaman's wretched 10 days not climaxed in an unforgivably-inept finish after 65 minutes when his attempt to lift the ball over Blackburn's goalkeeper John Filan proved to be every bit as cumbersome and ugly as had been his bid to pocket a fortune by way of a transfer to Barcelona.
McManaman's error was magnified, quite possibly distorted, because 12 minutes earlier Robbie Fowler's deputy, Michael Owen, had laid claim to such a magnificent goal to nudge Liverpool in front.
For one so young - he is just 17 - the goal was remarkable, a glorious, sumptuous, demonstration of what beauty football can hold when stripped bare of fear.
After charging down Wilcox's ill-advised crossfield pass just inside his own half, Owen raced 70 yards before steering his shot between Filan's legs. Absolutely marvellous.
"When the time comes to leave him out, to rest him, he won't be happy," smiled Evans.
Like Evans, the new Blackburn manager Roy Hodgson smiles a great deal, having one of those faces which can convince even the most restless of spirits.
Hodgson's decision to introduce Martin Dahlin as a substitute midway through the second period was sufficient to deny Liverpool a first league victory, the Swedish forward slotting home neatly with seven minutes remaining after fine interplay between Chris Sutton and another substitute, Lars Bohinen.
Guardian Service
Blackburn: Filan, Kenna, Hendry, Ripley, Gallacher, Sutton, Wilcox (Dahlin 67), Flitcroft, McKinlay (Bohinen 75), Valery, Henchoz (Pearce 36). Subs not used: Croft, Williams. Booked: Sutton. Goals: Dahlin 84.
Liverpool: James, Jones, Kvarme, Wright, McManaman, Harkness, Riedle (Berger 80), Thomas, Ince, Owen, Bjornebye. Subs not used: McAteer, Babb, Murphy, Warner. Booked: Ince. Goals: Owen 52.
Referee: S Lodge (Barnsley).
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