Among the various adjustments I had to make when I got my first proper job was getting past what I’ve heard described as the “gold star mentality”. For a lot of us, for as long as we’re in education, the rules are clear. Pay attention in class, learn what’s on the test, and whoever gets the best grade wins. But in the outside world there’s nobody to mark your homework and tell you you’re on the right track. There comes a point when we have to judge for ourselves what the objective of the game is –happiness, family, money, prestige, social impact – and whether we’re succeeding at it.

In sport, things are supposed to be more straightforward. There are winners and losers, and little doubt about which is which. The past few months for Liverpool, though, particularly the purgatory in which our title hopes currently reside, have muddled that picture and demonstrated the extent which victory and defeat – and crucially, the meaning and value we ascribe to them – are something we can define.

Back in December, there was a lot of debate about whether it was right to play a weakened team in the League Cup, so as to prioritise the Club World Cup. While most Liverpool fans seem to have taken the FIFA competition to heart as a major achievement, much of the rest of English football continue to view it as a glorified friendly tournament. Then, as Liverpool romped away with the Premier League, we started having rather surreal debates about meta-achievements. Everybody agrees winning the league is good, but which is better: winning a League/Cup/Champions’ League treble, reaching the highest points tally in history or going the season unbeaten? It was futile seeking consensus because the question is inherently subjective: different people will be more or less attached to different achievements.

Cricket, with its relative lack of context and structure, has always been more comfortable with this sort of ambiguity. English traditionalists have held up test cricket and the Ashes as the pinnacle of the game, and raised it above limited overs ‘pyjama’ cricket, up to and including the World Cup. Followers of the game remain divided as to whether Twenty20 and the Indian Premier League is just fun sideshow, or an elite competition.

But the current coronavirus hiatus risks creating unforeseen fissures among football fans. Almost every Liverpool supporter knows that Liverpool are the 2019/20 Premier League champions. How important really is it for that to be rubber stamped? And if the worst were to happen, and the season were completely annulled, would it change how we all feel about the season? It’s not that hard to imagine a situation where Liverpool fans proclaim ourselves champions, without being recognised by the league or supporters of other teams. On the other hand, it is equally plausible that if Liverpool are awarded the title, that at least some people will always see the title as ‘tainted’, not really legitimate.

The situation I’m imagining resembles nothing so much as a disputed election, with different parties claiming to be the real government. It’s times like those that expose the confidence tricks much of our society depends on. Governments are in charge because people agree they are. Money is worth something because people accept it has value. And the league champions are whoever we say they should be. In the real world, what the Premier League decides matters as much as the grades on your report cards from school: as much as you let it.

The idea that we create our own value is a disorientating one. It’s hard enough for existentialist philosophers to wrap their minds around, let alone football fans. But as those philosophers would argue, it can be liberating if we learn to embrace it. Reportedly, Johan Cruyff sometimes used to prefer hitting the crossbar to scoring goals because it was more aesthetically pleasing and got the crowd more excited than the ball going straight in. What he recognised is our power to define winning and losing, success and failure, for ourselves. (And if you need further demonstration, ask yourself whether you would rather be Cruyff’s brilliant and adored Dutch team or the German side that beat them in the 1974 World Cup final).

In the spirit of that freedom, here’s my heretical confession: whatever happens with the rest of the season, even if Liverpool are eventually crowned champions, I don’t think it will eclipse 2013/14 as my favourite Premier League campaign. The sheer joy, untrammeled chaos, wide-eyed belief that anything, even putting nine past Crystal Palace, was possible. For me, the undoubtedly excellent, but disciplined, well managed and professional performances of this term can’t match the euphoria of that period. Maybe you disagree. Maybe that trophy is all you care about. But the important thing is that that is down to you.

Aveek Bhattacharya writes about politics, philosophy, and occasionally football on his blog, Social Problems Are Like Maths. You can follow him on twitter: @aveek18.