Thursday 31 May 2012

Honouring The Cult Heroes of 2005

"Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them." - William Shakespeare.

We're often being ridiculed for looking back. As if we should feel apologetic for having had great success in the past. I understand full well that there's an argument to be made that said history is sometimes too big a stone for some of the current squad to handle and it's a valid one at that. The same could quite easily have been said at the end of 2004. Gerard Houllier's reign at Liverpool had reached it's terminus and I found myself drifting off to Dortmund and Cardiff, wondering if - not when - I'd be able to enjoy nights like those again. Rafa arrived shortly afterwards and a year later would foresee arguably the greatest cup final of all time. Istanbul is and forever will be a watershed moment in my life. This is for those who made it possible.

Firstly, I should point out that I wasn't part of the masses of Liverpool fans that descended on the Atatürk. Being barely out of school with no job, no passport and no relatives who were as crazy for Liverpool as I am there wasn't a hope of me ever taking that incredible journey. Not that it mattered. Whether I was there or not, we were in a European Cup final. This was not something that I had ever dreamt about - not because of any disrespect or long held fanaticism with the Premier League - I just never thought it was a possibility. Round by round the challenges became harder and every time they were met with performances which were beyond my comprehension. Having been written off against Bayer Leverkusen before a ball was kicked we went on to produce arguably the best two legged dispensation of a side I've ever seen. It was all well and good but surely Juventus would take care of us, they were on their way to the Serie A title after all at the time. Again the odds were defied, this time by two incredibly contrasting and yet masterful performances. Then came that semi final. In the league that season Chelsea only conceded fifteen goals. If that's what it would have taken to beat them in the semi final, we would have scored sixteen, such was the power behind that performance in the stands that night. Just getting to the final - in circumstances and with a team nobody would have given credence to - would have been enough for a lot of teams. Not Liverpool.

Football players - much like everything else - are often divided into very specific categories. Attacking or defencive. Luxurious or industrial. At their very pinnacle there is one thing that separates them all. Winning or losing. The problem with this as with any pigeonholing is that there are a select few that fall in between the cracks. Sometimes so called losers win and every now and then a perennial winner ends up on the losing side. This does not diminish the achievements of the truly great players. They will end up defining their own page in history because of the ability they possess. The legacy of Steven Gerrard does not live or die with what happened during our incredible Champions League run in 2005 because he was too good to let it. Somewhere along the line he would have found a way to greatness. What then of those around him. The ones who for one reason or another found themselves in the right place at the right time and - more importantly - managed to answer the call when destiny came for them.

Human nature compels us to root for the underdog, most likely because we identify with being flawed and unmatched against a greater opponent. Genuine superstars of world football are few and far between and the gap between those that are left feels close enough to make them climb down from their pedestals. Heroes aren't created. They exist because of what makes them thrusts them into the limelight. Cult heroes are born out of an admiration that despite their limitations they still strive to be the best. People like Dirk Kuyt - who finally ended his search for a winners medal at Wembley against Cardiff - and Lucas Leiva make me cheer for them not because of their ability but their heart and courage. They represent an ideal that it's not about what you were born with but how you use that. In 2005 against AC Milan it was quite obvious that they had a lot more than we did. But that didn't matter in the end, did it?

Most people remember him for his infamous Michael Jackson impression against Burnley in the FA Cup earlier on that season but for me Djimi Traore will always be remembered for his incredible block on the line in the second half. Immediately following that, Djimi rose to his feet and gave the post a good hard slap, one that - given the way the night was going at that point - would have dropped even Floyd Mayweather. In one moment he'd repaid the half a million that we gave Laval for him and almost made up for all those moments that had everyone in the stadium scratching their heads - including a first half display that had seen him give away the free kick that led to Maldini's early opener. Deceptively slow, Djimi did have one thing going for him in that he had the ability to time recovery tackles to perfection, among the best I've ever seen. The problem was that he always needed to make up for something in the first place. He was "Bambi on ice" and even his own song encouraged us to "blame it on Traore" and yet he's got a Champions League medal and no matter what occurred before or after, they'll never be able to take that away from him.

Cult heroes always have a little bit of eccentricity about them. They don't come any more eccentric than Djibril Cisse. The Lord of Frodsham who got married in a red suit because of his love for Liverpool. As it was, Djib didn't have very much to do that night. He came on with five minutes to go in normal time and did his best to be an outlet for the team but in truth had very little impact on the game. That's not what was important, being there in the first place was. In October, Cisse broke his leg and not only did the season look to be a right off if it wasn't for the decisive actions of the phyiso then Cisse would have lost his leg altogether. His comeback was a miracle in itself and to be stood face to face with Dida at the end of the game, scoring a penalty to put Liverpool on the edge of victory, his celebration said it all. The relief on his face at first is self evident and the roar that followed, the grabbing of his own shirt as adrenaline took over. That was born out of months of frustration, sitting on the sideline. Having overcame an injury of this magnitude, regardless of whatever else anybody ever thought of Djib, this was just reward for a man who had been through hell and come out the other side of it holding the greatest prize in football aloft.

Lastly the man for whom as the years have gone by I associate Istanbul with the most. There are any number of more suitable candidates, that I do know. Gerrard for lifting the team up in the first place, Luis Garcia for what he did to get us there or Rafa for making sure we didn't lose focus when it seemed to be all going wrong. Didi Hamann, Jamie Carragher or Jerzy Dudek would all be much more suitable candidates and yet none of them are to whom my attention is drawn toward. I'm thinking of someone who had been at the club for six years but despite some highlights had never established himself as anything other than a peripheral character. It was his goal that made what was a dream at half time seem like an inevitable reality. It was his penalty that was to be the winning penalty. He's Czech. He's great. He's Paddy Berger's mate. Vladmir Smicer.

After Gerrard scored, my phone rang almost immediately. Unlike the handful of text messages that I cherished - until the day that phone died - this was someone who was calling to congratulate. I barely remember what we talked about but I imagine the gist of it was something along the line of getting some kind of respectability in the scoreline. Then Vladi Smicer got hold of the ball. Of all the moments in which people claim they knew the cup was ours, this is mine. I still have no idea quite how Milan Baros managed to plug himself into the Matrix in time to duck out of the way and yet he waved it goodbye on it's way to the net with Dida unable to get enough of a hand to it. Right there and then I made a promise. I shouted to the heavens, my friend on the phone and anybody else that could hear me. It wasn't the most eloquent of things I've ever said. Nor was it in any way shape or form feasible. What I said, rather too loudly was this. "******* Vladi ******* Smicer. I will ******* have your babies." Rather surprisingly, he is yet to take me up on the offer.

He wasn't even meant to be on the pitch. In what was representative of the careers of both men, Smicer came on for an injured Harry Kewell that night. It would go on to form the basis of one of the best trivia questions of all time - by the time Vladi scored his penalty it had gone midnight in Istanbul, making him the only player ever to score two goals in one final over two days - this was to be his last contribution in a Liverpool shirt. So many before and since - even those we adored over the years far more than Smicer - have had marred their name but Vladi went out on the biggest high of them all. He's another one with which his emotions get the better of him, grabbing his shirt and giving the Liverpool badge on his chest a huge kiss. There have been many footballers who have pressed their lips on the badge as a way of feigning their loyalty and dedication. Vladimir Smicer scored the winning goal in the European Cup final instead.

Flash forward seven years and virtually all those responsible for the greatest night of my life have parted ways with Liverpool Football Club. They remain - as they will forever - a part of my cherished memories. The man who held the trophy aloft is still here too. Steven Gerrard has better players around him now than he did then too. This isn't meant to be a pointless glorification of our past or even a blindly optimistic point to the future. It's a recognization of the fact that even though personnel change their roles stay the same. Some will always be the focal point, the superstar and the one who hits the headlines. There will always be room for those who are prepared to give their all and wait for their chance at glory.

Tuesday 22 May 2012

There's No Place Like Home (Or Fourth)

"There can be no failure to a man who has not lost his courage, his character, his self respect, or his self-confidence. He is still a King."

By the time I was born, Kenny Dalglish had wracked up a hundred and sixty four goals for Liverpool Football Club, had won everything there was to win as a player and was about to do the same as a manager. He would go on to do the double well before I had even learned to speak, an ability I misplaced somewhere in the middle of last week when the news came through that he had been sacked.

Football has an incredible power. It brings people together and divides them almost as powerfully. Barely a week passes without something happening that heralds the death of the beautiful game. I prefer stories like that of Antonio Di Natale, who will financially support the disabled sister of Piermario Morosini, the Livorno player who passed away sadly in April. People like Craig Bellamy and Didier Drogba get roundly criticized for their conduct on the pitch but seem to receive very little acknowledgement for all they do off it. For some reason however, if you allow yourself to be touched by moments like Fabrice Muamba's return to the pitch and his tears of joy at both sets of fans chanting his name then you open yourself up to criticism. Because there's no room for sentimentality in football.

I've long held the belief that as a supporter, you have a role to play in the success of your team. Like an unwritten contract, when my team needs me I am there to be called upon. Atmosphere affects performance - this I've seen first hand both positively and negatively - but it's about more than what goes on for nintey minutes on the pitch. When Tom Hicks and George Gillett had Liverpool Football Club on it's knees, we fought back. That didn't stop, even when Roy Hodgson was blaming us for the inept performances on the pitch. I find it so perplexing - cold even - that the Blackburn fans have been given such a hard time in the media recently. Are we supposed to sit back and watch as the club we hold so dear disappears around us?  Unfortunately the flaw lies not with ourselves or even the owners who are only in it to make money, but with the FA who are so quick to let these "businessmen" play a glorified game of roulette with our football clubs. Until the bubble bursts that's not going to change anytime soon and we'll be the ones left picking up the pieces.

The problems that arise with sacking Kenny Dalglish was that appointing him in the first place, John W Henry had to know what he was getting and that if it came to this, just how difficult it would be. Dalglish is as far removed from the modern footballer as you'd care to imagine. Very few of even your favourite players - if they are from your own club - don't at some point or another let you down. They never mean to, it's just the nature of football in that they're only ever ninety minutes away from a total change of perception. Many players and managers go from hero to villain like the toss of a coin. But not Kenny. He's above that and we all knew it. Therein lies the crux of it all. Their idea is a long term solution to a problem I'm not sure they know how to fix. I don't think Kenny was ever part of that, despite how much we all wanted it to be the case. You could accuse me of short term thinking but I would have rather given the "Kenny Dalglish experiment" one more season before pulling the plug on everything and starting again. FSG and John W Henry know that they've opened themselves up. From here on in it all falls on them and as much as anyone else, they need to get it right from now on.

I keep hearing and reading a lot about how Dalglish's antipathy toward the media is part of the reason why he was sacked. That scares me a little, in that it's become an accepted part of how a manager succeeds or fails is how good his "image" is.  I blame myself partly, for failing to realize this sooner.  Rafa Benitez still has a reputation of being some bumbling clown that took Liverpool back too the stone age in some parts of the country, all because of the way he was portrayed and Kenny Dalglish has today been unveiled today as one of Sky Sports' "villains of the season" with no mentions whatsoever to John Terry or Joey Barton.  I suppose Dalglish should have just banned the press like Ferguson, or swore at them like Redknapp. I'm not naive enough to think that the media plays no part in a managers remit but it shouldn't be quite to the extent that it plays a part in whether someone keeps their job or not. To some, Alex Ferguson will always be beyond reproach and to a large degree he has earned that but only so long as it's backed up by what's currently happening on the pitch. Ultimately, that's where Kenny Dalglish failed and not with a microphone in his face.

That anger that came form Dalglish's departure very quickly became fear. Fear of repeating the past, for the parallels between what happened this week and in 2010 seem awfully apparent. Any potential backlash toward Roberto Martinez is less to do with him and more to do with the almost identical fashion with which we were sold Roy Hodgson. Upon closer inspection however, while those comparisons seem valid, they are ultimately hollow. I find it hard to believe that any incoming manager would make quite as many mistakes as Hodgson and secondly this does at least appear to be part of a process rather than the thoughtless way in which Rafa was discarded.  In many ways, we are still suffering from what happened when Hicks & Gillett owned the club. FSG and the playing staff still have to rectify how far we've fallen on the pitch in the last few years while off the pitch as supporters we're very weary of being led down the same path. Once bitten, twice shy, the work that needs to be done in order to even think about a title challenge will be a lot harder given both the impatience of the modern football fan and the trust issues that will remain for a while yet.

I understand completely that our league campaign this season was unacceptable but at the same time I don't like the idea of writing off a trophy because of it.  Does the pain derived from our league campaign lessen the joy I felt having won the league cup at Wembley or knocking Everton out in the semi-final? In order to move forward it's important to understand what went wrong, not just ignore everything that went well and focus on the failures. Up until Robin Van Persie scored a heartbreaking last minute winner at Anfield in March, we still had every chance of Champions League football and were given another lifeline a few weeks later against QPR only to incomprehensibly give away a two goal lead. Ultimately I believe that the gap between where we finished and where we wanted to finish isn't as far as some would have you believe but at the same time with Europa League football next year the margin for error is even finer. Whoever takes charge will have a lot to take in, which is why it's important to get someone with experience at the top level or at least have the structure in place to make sure that any "learning on the job" doesn't result in failure on the pitch. Given what's been defined as failure this year however, I'm not sure what that constitutes.

If first is first and second is nowhere, what is fourth? In the grand scheme of things, finishing fourth has become a platform - in much the same way winning trophies are/were meant to be. At this moment in time however, it's a false platform.  Not quite the deus ex machina it's being made out to be.  Neither Spurs nor Everton were able to make the most of their chance at the top table.  The only way to really get the best out of it is to have the right structure.  As there aren't many great examples of famous fourth places (I wonder why that is?) I'll take the last two World Cups for example.  Finishing fourth did very little for Portugal in 2006 while it may be argued that the starting point for a potential Uruguay triumph in Brazil will go back to their 2010 campaign. As far as winning trophies go it's a lot easier to look at domestic matters, winning the league cup last year put Birmingham in a place from which they ended up being relegated while collecting the FA Cup may have been a contributing factor for Manchester City being able to win the league this year.  City were able to use the platform of Champions League football to allow them to attract the players they could easily afford that would otherwise have shunned their advances.  In the case of Uruguay it's all to do with their setup.  They have a large amount of talented players coming through their system who have grown up together as a team and are now reaping those rewards.  Without the money that City have, it's imperative we get everything else right.  Neither winning trophies or finishing in the top four are direct answers.  One is a reward onto itself however.  Simply finishing fourth for one season - while heralded - will be about as useful long term as Everton in 2005.

Being in the top four has become like the Wizard of Oz. Who needs courage, brains and a heart when you can have Champions League revenue? Teams become so consumed with it, they lose focus of what they actually have in pursuit of it. Martin O'Neill did it by sending a reserve team to CSKA Moscow in the UEFA Cup, a tie Aston Villa had every chance of winning against a side that would go on to be champions. Harry Redknapp regularly shows a disdain for the Europa League, a line of thinking I've never really liked, given that both competitions count toward a coefficient and successive failures could one day leave England with only three Champions League places instead of four.

Meanwhile in Germany, Bourissia Dortmund missed out on Champions League football in 2010 by four points after dropping points in their last two matches and finishing fifth in the process. They have won the Bundesliga in the two seasons that followed and six of the team that lost to Freiburg on the last day of the 09/10 season started in their 5-2 German Cup final victory over Bayern just over a week ago.  Masterminding the whole thing was Jürgen Klopp, a manager who's previous work involved a seven year stint at Mainz during which he got them both promoted to the Bundesliga and relegated three seasons later although did gave them their first ever taste of European football through the German fair play league. This isn't to advocate the potential hiring of a Martinez, the kind of chance Dortmund took on Klopp doesn't always pay off. The point being that if you have the right pieces in place - as they did in 2010 - then it's possible to make the leap from pretenders to contenders. The problem is, we have to realize now that it's going to take time to get everything ready and even then you'd still then have to find yourself a Shinji Kagawa and Lewandowski, who were a snip at three hundred and fifty thousand euros and a clearly exorbitant four and a half million euros respectively.

The league table doesn't lie, so we're told. I'll buy that. But there has to be a better way of measuring progression. In the last three seasons Arsenal have finished third, fourth and third. Are they any better off now than in 2010? In the same time frame Wigan have gone from sixteenth in the 2009/2010 season, finished the same place a year later and fifteenth this year. Both teams are fairly stagnant and yet have achieve their respective goals every year be it top four or survival. Perhaps the problem lies within ambition, in that if you try too hard and fail, you'll have a Leeds United on your hands. I'd like to think that even with all the derision that comes with platitudes about our history, we're not in the business of playing it safe with regard to our objectives.  I can't imagine a Liverpool Football Club that would be satisfied with qualification for the Champions League alone, forsaking trophies along the way in order to make sure the cheques are balanced.  Pete Wylie told me there's no heart as big as Liverpool.  I still believe that.  I only hope when this is all over John W. Henry doesn't turn Anfield into a bunch of tin men.  If that is the case, he'll need more than a wizard.

Friday 11 May 2012

Jekyll & A Hiding: A Season In Two Matches

I have this idea for a movie. It's your classic sports story, beginning with a football club being successfully liberated at the hands of their callous former owners. We bring in a well respected veteran to try and restore the club to it's former glory, somebody that everyone can rally behind. Following that we put together a team of characters; some likeable, others are Craig Bellamy. Things don't go according to plan. Despite their underaccheivement, they manage to get to the final of the cup however. That's when one of our characters - the one whose character arc has seen him become a figure of ridicule, despite his talent - will in their great hour of need come to the rescue and find salvation for himself and the team. It all comes down to one play. Our heroes look to have done the impossible and... the linesman doesn't give it. It's not very Hollywood, is it? Neither is life.

Sunday May 6th. I don't resurface until late into the afternoon and even then there are many things that still need to be resolved from the night before. For starters, I have no idea what happened to my trousers and how or why I decided it would be a good idea to sleep on the floor at the top of the stairs. Much like Rangers, I can't account for a lot of what I spent and my self respect issued a transfer request somewhere around midnight. There is however, one inescapable truth. We didn't win.

Given that prior to kick off I'd worked myself up into a state - that I'd seemingly put my entire being on the line in one match - there doesn't appear to be any lasting damage. I don't have any memories of euphoric blue shirts celebrating wildly on the Wembley pitch, although that is mostly due to the fact that I had my eyes fused shut well before Phil Dowd called an end to proceedings. Moments earlier, I had let out a guttural shout that came right from the depths of my desperation as we tried in vain to force extra time. When the final whistle did ring out, frustration gave way to acceptance surprisingly quickly. I'll have to be careful in not trying to take away from what they did or sound in any way bitter. Having said that - unlike the club I dearly love on Saturday - I'm not going to give anyone anything they haven't earned. Cheslea did indeed beat Liverpool, but for sixty minutes that was not the case. There's being late, fashionably late or not even bothering to turn up at all. Had we been absent for the full ninety, I would have been inconsolable. As it was, they took everything we could throw at them in the time we had and they withstood it. At least Torres didn't score.

The days come and go, hangovers subside and you face the next challenge. As it was, we were to find ourselves given a chance at immediate redemption. The whole build up to the game felt rather unusual but if nothing else I was looking forward to seeing the continual resurgence of Andy Carroll as he continued to gorge himself on a Chelsea team needing to win. If they needed it for footballing reasons, we needed it as a matter of principle.  I didn't want to put the final nail in the coffin of their chances of finishing in the top four, I wanted to drive a stake through their heart. Given both our home form this season and the fact that everyone around them seemed desperate to allow them into the top four - in addition to how highly I rate Bayern Munich this season - I actually rated this as their best chance for Champions League football. Thankfully it wasn't to be. What happened down Wembley way on Saturday was always going to garner a reaction but I didn't quite think it was going to be quite like that. Peace of mind, if not a piece of silverware. They're going to get my hopes up again, I can feel it.


It was the centenary of the Kop. West Ham arrived for an early kick off on Saturday morning and due to the rail network being amazing as it is in this country I arrived to Anfield having just missed the mosaic and "You'll Never Walk Alone". On that day Danny Agger showed the world just how hard he hits the ball and Rafa got his Dirk out for the very first time. I always had a soft spot for him, not least of all because he's very much in my own mould as a player. Technically limited but incredibly hard working. He was the best to come out of Athens in that the goal he scored sparked a run where no big game would pass without Dirk making his mark. Because I'm gullible and like to get carried away with these kind of things, I can't help but wonder if the goal he scored on Saturday could do the same for Andy Carroll. He's already scored against Everton twice - one winner and a decisive first goal at Goodison - so maybe, just maybe we will start to see the colossus we all hoped we were getting all next season. At the moment he certainly looks like it.
In the modern world of football, the phrase "long term planning" is often met with derision. To introduce it into the conversation implies that everything which led up to that point were either deeply flawed or in some extreme cases non existent. The idea that you start a process as long and arduous as winning the Premier League title all over again is a test to the patience of any fan, most likely because it's easy to get lost along the way. Sitting here now, I think a lot of the frustration of this season has been brought about because there's no doubt we're at that point again. With the side that finished second in 2009 having been completely dismantled, I saw last summer as something of a last chance. It wasn't that we were to emulate the style of football and results we saw back then - although it would have been nice - but to get us back to that kind of platform from which we could build. Going from a Champions League finish to simply challenging for the league takes a lot of effort, let alone winning it. The best way I can liken it is to suggest that while well intentioned, the summer of 2011 was something of a twelfth round situation. With everything that had gone on in the last eighteen months, the judges scorecard had us losing and so we had to come out swinging. As an experiment it appears to have failed - for a variety of reasons - and we're back to square one. Where do we go from here then? Forward, hopefully.

I've been the first to criticise Arsene Wenger and the team he now finds himself with. I think he's a great manager but is reaping the reward of sink or swim football at the youth level. The league cup in years past has been the proving ground for many of the players who now frequent the first team and I think Wenger's insistence in not calling upon his more experienced players at the time has bred the a losing mentality when it comes to the big games. I'd argue the reason that they're so mentally fragile now is because when they had a chance at a trophy over the last few seasons, nobody was there of the old Arsenal team that had the experience of getting over the line to show them how it's done. I think in a sense, that same kind of fragility now exists among the current crop of Liverpool players, although it's nowhere near as epidemic.

Mental conditioning tells us to believe that if the same set of circumstances arises, the result will be the same. You can see it on the pitch in the games recently, it was frighteningly apparent against West Brom. Dominate the play, hit the bar a few times and we almost expected to be caught on the break. This season isn't exactly isolated either, in terms of results. Things have been a lot worse but we've had a problem with teams that come to Anfield and sit back for a while now. The one thing I would hope moving into the future is that we don't become cautious ourselves as a result. If the last couple of games has taught us anything it's that with the players we have now, shape means far less than tempo. Andy Carroll and Luis Suarez haven't clicked as much as we'd like but they're not Robbie Keane and Fernando Torres either. The games they have been together and it's worked well however are those in which we play very high up the pitch and look to get things going very quickly. The times when Carroll looks the worst are when we are ponderous in midfield, it also makes it far more likely we'll end up punting it up to him aimlessly rather than playing it on the floor. Also, Luis Suarez thrives in a side that's playing one touch football. If we found the right player for the right price, I might like to see Suarez out wide (of a front three, not a traditional winger). Both Man United and Chelsea have been dealt damage at the hands of his quick feet when he runs down the wing and cuts inside, it's something I think we may try to exploit more often next year.

One thing we do need next year is to be far more efficient in front of goal. That goes for everybody. Being a clinical finisher is very elusive in terms of defining. Ian Rush said that it was something you either had or didn't and that's about as well as I can put it. At the risk of sounding condescending, scoring goals makes everything easier. Who knows how well someone like Stewart Downing could have done over the course of a season if someone of his crosses were actually put in for a change?

A few years ago you wouldn't have believed it but everybody is waiting with baited breath for the return of Lucas Leiva. I'm very much a "stat guy" and the fact that if you extrapolate the points per game we had with him in the team (1.83) over the course of the season, we'd be comfortably third tells me that we need him back as soon as possible. I don't want to get too carried away however for a multitude of reasons. Primarily, the type of injury he sustained means there is no guarantee he'll be the same player. The bigger worry is that so much importance is put on his return, forgetting the fact that even with him in the side we struggled for goals this season but his exit seemed to dovetail with Steven Gerrard's return. With them both in the side next year I am hopeful a balance can be struck, though I would like a "Lucas type" player alongside him allowing Gerrard the freedom further up the pitch we know he can exploit. It was something of a criminal oversight given what has happened this season not to have a ready made back up for Lucas. Jay Spearing - try hard as he might - will never be that player. If it's a mistake we rectify in the summer, that's a huge gap plugged.

Rightly or wrongly, assumptions are a big part of football. They become the basis of expectation because for the most part, football is so simple that it's only natural. Problem is, short of presuming Arsene Wenger didn't see it, things aren't often that clear cut. The only thing that links expectations, opinions and even informed opinions is that all three can still be wrong. If you'd never seen Charlie Adam (purely as an example) before he signed for Liverpool I imagine your opinion of him now would be different to someone who saw him often when he was still at Blackpool. My opinion of him was tempered with the fact that he was incredibly good in the games against us when he was still playing for Ian Holloway so maybe I expected more when I should have simply realized the dictating circumstances.

It's not only players who are unwillingly tagged with unwarranted labels. I may be way off the mark here but there's perhaps a conception that anybody who thinks winning the league cup constitutes a good season means that they're happy with every other aspect. I'm very old fashioned in that I believe first and foremost football is about winning things. This season we have one trophy in the cabinet and were a flag (potentially) away from another. Does that mean I'll accept finishing below Everton? A million times no. This arguement becomes most apparent when you expand it over the management. If you weren't happy with Rafa Benitez at the end, that doesn't mean you were in favour of Roy Hodsgon. Likewise if you have doubts about Kenny Dalglish, that doesn't mean that you want to go back to a Hodgson. I have no idea what will happen over the next twelve months at Liverpool Football Club. Players, managers, seasons all come and go. The only thing for sure is that I'll be there. Probably hungover again.

Friday 4 May 2012

Wembley Cup Final #2: This Time It's Personal.


"Do I want to beat you, on a personal level? Oh hell yeah I do. But on a professional level, which bleeds over into my personal existence, I need to beat you... I need it more than anything you can ever imagine." - Stone Cold Steve Austin.

There's a list of reasons about as long as the list of Jordan Henderson's haircare products as to why I would never make it as a top level footballer. Chief among those is because I get carried away far to easy. Even Sky's habit of attaching hyperbolic significance to those games that barely deserve it pales in comparison to the kind of platform I can put them on. You can only imagine how I'm feeling about Saturday. Hopefully this will explain somewhat.

It was a rather mundane afternoon when I got my hands on the FA Cup. We were the current holders at the time it was taken but Dennis Bergkamp had made sure that this would be as close as anyone in a Liverpool shirt would get to lifting the famous old trophy. A happy coincidence on a routine shopping trip - this was back in the heady days before Newcastle found it fit to name their stadium after a certain magnificent sports retailer - saw me find myself in a queue to lift the cup.

Having ransacked my house in order to try and exhume it, looking at it now it feels like a lifetime ago. I was fifteen at the time but you'd be forgiven for thinking I was half that age - still taller than Jay Spearing mind. My only real contact with the Liverpool Football Club I adored were the games on TV and the sadly now defunct Mexican stand-off I'd have with the teletext on a Saturday afternoon. Message-boards and forums were about as foreign to me as the concept that in less than four years time we'd be European Champions.

Unlike any other form of entertainment - and I'm loathed to refer to it as such - football has no end point. Darth Vader dies, somebody else lives and Liverpool FC goes on. There are however points of reference. Every match has implications but the FA Cup final tomorrow is one of those points that could help to springboard the winner onto greater things. Case and point in the Premier League being when we played Chelsea for fourth place in 2003. They won and got an Abramovic to take home with them. Perhaps the biggest one I can think of is 2005 at Anfield in the Champions League semi final. There's a certain theme developing here regarding our opponents.

Ideals are dangerous. People have gone to war over ideals. Put them together in a footballing context and you get people as diametrically opposed as Pep Guardiola and Sam Allardyce. It's far from perfect and I know full well that my love the game is not one that is reciprocated however I continue to immerse myself in it. Whereas some people see rigidity, restriction and organisation - mostly those at Villa Park these days - I see freedom and artistry. The word mentality became a Rafa buzzword, almost to the point of cliché but that's what counts. is almost impossible to fake. Even if you can aesthetically simulate it, only the utmost application of desire and heart can get you where you want. Talent makes you a player but what's inside will define you as a footballer. It's the reason why I have such a man crush on Lucas Leiva. He never hid when things were going wrong all around him. 's a certain purity in honest effort. To try and accept the possibility that things may not go your way is almost the very definition of what it is to be human. We may not have seen the flair and skill of years past but that never say die attitude that surrounds Liverpool Football Club no matter what the circumstances still remains.

Life is loud. In those few moments where I can actually sit down and take a breath, I hear a voice. Sleep brings no respite. I had a dream this morning where Glen Johnson scored the winner. It isn't the first time this week I've woken up and had the cup ripped from my grasp. It's not so much a whisper as it is shouting out to the footballing gods.  I don't think I've ever felt like this before, Istanbul included. When it comes to trophies I'm like anyone else, of course I yearn for success. This time it's more than that. I ache for it. I don't just want it, I need it.

The game itself will be horrible. I won't be able to sit nor think straight until after the game is over, it'll just be ninety minutes of me by sheer will alone trying to manifest it into the universe. They're missing a couple of players but I know Drogba will be there, regardless of whatever is said about his injury. Ivanovic at centre back will mean that Bosingwa will have to play at right back and that will hopefully be something we'll be able to exploit. As always with a game like this however, it'll be the midfield battle which we have to get right. If Lucas were playing I'd be very comfortable about dealing with Ramires and Mikel, having done so already twice magnificently this season. Having already been to Wembley twice this season I'm pretty confident that all those who seemed to be in awe of the occasion in the league cup final have now got that out of their system. Of course, it helps that we're once again in the role of underdog. Against Cardiff we were supposed to put down a hammering and obviously that was never going to happen. Now we're back in a place which we're both familiar and comfortable with. How can we - playing the way we have been - beat the team that's just knocked out Barcelona? Watch and learn.

Our own line up hinges on the speculation surrounding Carragher's inclusion. I've gotten myself used to the idea of Agger at left back already just so that I'm not taken by surprise should it happen tomorrow afternoon. I'm not about to debate tactics or personnel, when that team sheet is released - regardless of whether or not it is the one I want - then that's the team I will place my faith and more importantly my support with. The first eleven might not even be what tips the scale. Tight as I believe it will be, I wouldn't be surprised if somebody came off the bench to win it. That could mean Dirk Kuyt (you wouldn't bet against it), Andy Carroll or even Fernando Torres - though I believe Daniel Agger will have something to say about that. Personally speaking, I would love to not to have to come from behind in a cup final for a change, but the last time we took the lead against anyone in a final was Chelsea in 05 and that didn't turn out to well. I don't care who, how or when. I'm giving them the licence to do what they've done to me so many times. Take me on that emotional roller-coaster. Just make sure that when it's all said and done there's a trophy there waiting.

Kenny Dalglish deserves this trophy. Whatever happens, my opinion of the man won't change. Football is littered with the worst kinds of people. Kenny is the opposite of that. For so long I was naive enough to think that it was important everybody see just how good he is. Too many people around the country - too many agendas - have made that impossible. Now I'm past caring. What I care about is Liverpool Football Club and nobody does a better job of that than The King. I'm just about too young to remember Kenny Dalglish the first time around. There's something about watching a man who is so clearly as devoted to a football club as the rest of us are, it fills me with immense joy and pride to watch him celebrate on the touchline - Everton especially. I'm talking now about the man himself. His name has been dragged right through the mud and some people need to take a hard look at themselves. I'm not trying to say he's perfect, nobody is. I just want people to realise what he's done for the club, this season. 29th April 2010. That night we played Atletico Madrid in the Europa League semi final. It was to be Rafa's last European hurrah and we couldn't quite get ourselves over the line. I thought that may be our last game in Europe for ten years. Forget the Champions League, we were turning into the Aston Villa we now see before us.

People often point to the six months with Hodgson, Hicks and Gillette as a way of measuring just how different things are now. Have results been bad this year? Certainly. Everything was bad back then. Now our main issues are Coates and Sterling, Bellamy's knees or how to utilise Andy Carroll. Two years ago, we were losing a quarter of a million a day. If you think these are dark times right now, clearly you did not have your eyes open last year. Whatever happens at Wembley, whatever happens in the summer, I'm looking forward. It's may not be anywhere near as glamorous or rewarding as the Champions League but it's Liverpool in Europe, thanks to Kenny. If you asked me to think of Rafa's first season in 2005, do I immediately think of Djimi's break dancing in Burnley or battering Birmingham City only for Darren Anderton of all people to win it? When you ask me to think of this season I'll remember Cardiff, Everton and hopefully tomorrow.

Those that know me closely know that football is my everything. It is my introduction to people, I've lost count of the amount of strangers I've talked to for hours over the complexities of this simple game. More importantly than that it is my escape. For so long I'd been lucky enough that the worst thing that could possibly happen to me was that Liverpool lose, that's changed dramatically over the last couple of years. My mother, who had been disabled all her life - I say disabled, she was deaf, it never struck me as anything other than normal - has seen her health rapidly deteriorate over the last couple of years. She only ever watched football because it was the only time I'd ever sit in front of the television and became somewhat of a Liverpool fan, loving Steven Gerrard as the rest of us do. After Istanbul I had promised her a long time ago that I would take her to Anfield one day. Because of her health, it's a promise that I will never be able keep. I hate breaking promises. I'm going to see her on Monday in the care home she lives in. There are days now where she barely even recognises me. I can still see that glimmer in her eye when she looks at Steven Gerrard however and I hope to be able to show her a picture of him with our latest piece of silverware. Even if we're lucky enough to make it to yet another final in the next twelve months, I don't know if I'll have that same privilege next year.

There is, one more reason – as if I didn't have enough – that this game matters to me. I fell in love with one of theirs. April 16th 2011. I was watching the Man Utd-Man City game in a pub, talking to a complete stranger – as you do. She was a small, intelligent, incredibly attractive and knew her football - a rarity in any Chelsea fan. Paul Scholes hasn't done a lot for me in his life, but our revelling in his sending off in the FA Cup Semi final of last year sparked off something that burned brightly and fizzled out just as fast. I happen to know she'll be there at Wembley. The eight months we were together were the happiest of my life. As the months went on I really fell for her, to the point where I didn't even rub it in when we beat them twice in the space of eleven days. It was the kind of self restraint I never thought I had, all because I didn't ever want to make her upset. Having said that, you won't be entirely surprised to hear that I managed to screw it up. When she ended it I felt hollow inside. I took that pain - along with a stomach full of beer - to Anfield with me a few days later, against Oldham in the FA Cup. It was the first time I felt anything other than empty. Our paths and the FA Cup are so intertwined I guess it's almost inevitable that it would come down to this. I might not yet be fully over her but that doesn't change things. She already has my heart, they can't have this as well.