If your going to read this piece, please listen to this song in the background. It's one I've listened to over the last few years of our perils and keeps me with hope in my heart. I'm not a proper writer, but this is the feelings from my heart typed up on RAWK.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHW8NfdbfaIRegards,
Tom
For Neil Mellor against Arsenal.
For Sinama Pongolle against Olympiakos.
For Neil Mellor against Olympiakos.
For Steve Gerrard agaisnt Olympiakos.
For Luis Garcia against Juventus.
Aurelio against Chelsea.
All of these evoke memories, feelings, reactions and happy times.
Look, it will take too long for me to mention all the goals- all the times, all the feelings, all the memories that I will take with me till the grave- and thats where they will go.
For my rights or wrongs and to the humour of you guys on here, I'm a guy who has a very shit job and lives near London which is ages away from Liverpool, but what I can look forward at the weekend is the football and with the current football climate I can also look forward to it during the week (Champions League or Europa for those slow at the back!
). I raise my money from my work so I can go to Anfield, or so I can go to an away match or so I can go abroad and see the mighty reds. Since 1993 when I was 6, I've been fascinated with football and loved Liverpool ever since; the team, the people, the place. I can't help where I am from, once you have a team you can't change it and I can only prove my support by going and experiencing the events.
I'll take shit from whoever wants to bring it to me for this. I don't care. I will never change the team I support till the day I die. If your older than me and you have a different opinion, I'll take it with a pinch of salt and keep my mouth shut out of respect.
I'm from London. I've been in love with Liverpool since I was 6. My Mum is from Bolton, my Dad from Wigan and my Cousin from Liverpool.
Down in St. Albans, I used to go to a pub with my dad (who supports Rugby League). I was into Liverpool, very honestly because they were the only club in my primary school where no one collected the Premier League stickers, so I took on the mantle of collecting the Liverpool stickers for the magazine. That's quite simply where my love affair began. I marvelled over the trophies, I found out about the club, my passion started and never ended there. As a right back for my school and cub football team I took on McAteer's name and number on the back of my shirt.
As I got older I went to the pub more with my dad. It was very soon I was betting my £2 pocket money on Liverpool to beat United with the (irony) glory hunting middle aged bastards who were there, although most seasons I would lose my money and run outside to cry with the Rottwiliers: who were in actual fact normally quite fond of me and worried to know I felt quite bad, despite barking at other older regulars. There are too many United disappointments to list, perhaps this is why I have such a bitter nature towards them. I won't try and pretend I am not like the Blue Shite, I am jealous and bitter of Manchester United, I have only ever hoped that one day we can follow in their footsteps. Bad times; there are too many to mention but the one I can remember is seeing David James drop it into the path of Yorke for him to slam it into the back of the net, and then later, more importantly, to see him do the same in the middle of the box in the FA Cup Final only for Cantona to slice it into the corner, for United to win the FA Cup against us and for me to again cry my eyes out again: all over again. I just wanted a purpose, an ending, a trophy, something I could hold onto dearly till the day I died. I would get that. I would get a million times over what I wished for.
So without skipping the great things Evans and Houllier did and believe me they more than made up for, but in fairness, never compared to...
Benitez.
Benitez.
Benitez.
Rafael Benitez, like Garstonite has talked about, like Raptor has mentioned; despite me and Raptor never seeing eye to eye in real life, Benitez was my Shankly. My Paisley. My Fagan. I mean no disrespect to anyone who has witnessed what has gone previously and the amount they have won: which shouldn't be an indicator but us young'un's didn't know the drill, we were in the dark. My best until then was Houllier and Owen in the FA Cup but I had never been there to witness it, the big big cups like the league and the Champions League. And besides with Houllier I can barely remember that at 13 years old.
So take a step forward before I go back...
I'm still not over Benitez leaving. It's a hard battle. It's really hard. Thanks to Sky Sports, the majority of people talk as if he took our club to the depths of Championship football. But he gave me hope, he made me believe it was possible for us to go somewhere,
he made me and the Kop dream, he really, really made me believe.
For you guys on the Kop that day against Olympiakos I can only imagine how it felt. I had Arsenal fans, Chelsea fans and United fans leaving me in my room on my own as we went 1 nil down to the Rivaldo goal: they were off to get more beer, I was left at home to wallow in another Champions League exit. So on my own as a Kop virgin, I did my half time ritual and played You'll Never Walk Alone to myself as loud as I could via my brothers speakers. I sang along to it as loud as I could, no matter what a wanker I looked like from the people looking in from outside and prayed for us to come back, I had never felt that attached to football before. I was willing them on like it meant the world. Who would have known that a few years later "qualifying from the group stages" would be looked down upon, who would have known that a couple of years after that it would have been desirable: how many of us would swap Europa qualification for Champions League qualification, let alone qualifying for the knock out rounds with a strong result from the the final match of the group stages.
To cut this story short, we made it past Olympiakos.
You lot know the history. The goals are quoted in my opening paragraph. Each one greeted with me nearly breaking the sofa or breaking the floor beneath it, topped off with Gerrard's goal flying into the Kop End goal with my mates finally back in the room and me acting like a lunatic. They didn't understand. They just didn't understand. Some of them would understand a year later as Eto' shot into the corner for Barcelona in the final against Arsenal, but they didn't share the same hope or the same dreams of getting there in the first place, it was just fortunate for them. Their club hadn't let them dream.
Bar Luis Garcia's lob and Hyypias amazing volley against Juventus most of the rest is a blur. I'll be honest, I wasn't a total football fanatic until then. Not because of Europe, I think honestly because of my age. We could have been mid table but I'd have been travelling the country and anywhere else supporting them given the money.
But when it came down to the Semi Final's I remember going into Trafalagar square with a Liverpool supporter from my area called Nick and seeing all the flags all the banners and getting involved myself in the songs and the banter and if I didn't know it previously, I knew this was the club for me. No-one else, win or lose, has that much support backing them and that day because it was the away leg we begged for tickets and rightfully so we were turned down. But I will always remember the mark Liverpool made on Trafalgar square. I remember us eventually sneaking into a pub near Stamford Bridge and watching it with our Liverpool banner in our bag- hiding away, worried about the consequences.
So then the game went to Anfield, with the Stamford Bridge game finishing nil nil.
All the drama, all the tension, Garcia after barely 6 minutes. Was it in? Was it over? Was it a goal? Who gives a shit!? Chelsea have to score at least one to beat us here. I watched it at my mates house who wasn't as passionate as me but we still went mental as the clocked ticked down. 6 minutes stoppage time? 5 to go, What the fuck where has that come from? 4 to go, Who gives a fuck we are through anyway! 3, come on clear that ball, 2, keep it together lads, 2, JUST WHACK IT ANYWHERE, 1, Wait a second, the balls dropped at Gudjohnsen......... this is it........ this is the dream over, I can't believe it, all that way........ wait a second, he's missed! he's missed! we're through! we're through! we're there, we're there, we're there, I never thought it was possible, we're there.
I ran all the way from my mates house to my Dad's and told him in no uncertain terms I was going to the final. I know to some of you that was bandwagoning or not being a proper supporter, but at 16 and with the world ahead of me I just wanted the chance to be there, they had brought so much happiness to me and I didn't want it to end there- I wanted to go, and I will never apologise for that.
So my Dad agreed to help me in the task of getting a ticket. I remember trying to get a ticket from this forum as if I deserved one despite never going to a previous game bar Watford Away when Sinama Pongolle fucked his leg and was out for the rest of the season. I remember a guy called Lloyd PM'ing me off this forum offering me a 'neutral' ticket, and as a result, I remember meeting him when he picked me up from outside my house on the day with his long term mate Dorian who had been going to Anfield together from the 80's. We then made the trip and flew to Istanbul from Luton airport. I remember laughing at United's takeover in Luton Airport's 'pub' (I was right but look at us now) with fellow Liverpool fans, we were on the rise, they were falling: happy days!
I don't need to tell you about the final.
You already know what happened.
But as a 17 year old,
At my first ever proper match
Over a thousands miles from home
having walked through a field to get to the stadium.
One goal for AC Milan
A second for AC Milan
Crespo sealing the 3rd for AC milan
Having hoped for years to get to this stage.
Passionate as any of you are: I'll take any of you to task
With my mum, my dad and my brother texting their condolences to me at half time but not really understanding.
Tears streaming down my cheeks as I waved my Liverpool scarf in the air on my own in the neutral section
Me then standing there on top of the media section holding my Liverpool scarf, singing You'll Never Walk Alone at half time, joining in whole heartedly with the "we're gonna win 4-3" chants
Sitting in the neutral section: with the French and Spanish media behind me wondering why I was so passionate.
Exchanging banter with an Italian media guy at half time behind me about how Liverpool were going on to win even though I didn't believe as much but I told him anyway
I sat there, even though these two guys, Lloyd and Dorian had taken me there, Dorian in the Liverpool end, Lloyd trying his best to look after me even though I was all over the place.
I stood on my seat as tall as I could go, the tears streaming down my face as I looked at the score board- just hoping, just praying, just believing in one last miracle
Surely it can come.
I have never and will never feel that bad in football ever again because of what happened in that first 45 minutes (please don't relate this to previous horrible event's only circa 2000 and beyond- I mean just football and no offence)
You guys know what happened.
You guys know about Gerrard, Smice, - SAVE- Alonso.
Svevcencko through on goal, SAVED by DUDEK
Surely NOW! Dudek save- OVER THE BAR
All this happened. All of my emotions were all over the place, we eventually went onto win, but I will never forget the one man who made it all possible.
You know about the man who stood quietly in the background as the players (and the cheeky sod who wore the reserve kit) ran about on the pitch.
You know about the happiness brought to the city of Liverpool and beyond.
You know about the FA Cup victory.
You know about being ranked top in Europe during his 5 year tenure.
You know about Reina, Luis Garcia, Alonso, Torres, Mascherano and Agger
You know about Gerrard going from 1 in 3.5 to 1 in 2.5
You know about our record points total in 20 years (86)
You know about Carragher going from just about there, to one of the best defenders in the world from 2005-2007
Ultimately you know about the one guy that I look up to, that I miss, that I wish was still here.
You know about Rafa Benitez.
Even now, thinking about it all, a tear runs down my face, I'm that passionate about football and he took me from Neil Mellor's goal against the best team in England at the time in 2004, to Liverpool actually winning the European Cup and me witnessing it: what a legend, what a guy: I will never forget the personalised card he sent to me in return for me thanking him for his service till the day I die.
No disrespect to Hodgson (and in some ways Sky have ruined his legacy already by super imposing him on flags)
But.
I will always remember Benitez as my Shankly.
As one of the men who brought one of the biggest trophies home.
He took so much shit here from everyone it was unbelievable and he kept fighting on the pitch and off the pitch and he wanted to keep fighting till the very end and thanks to some of our animosity we let him go: thanks to Purslow and Broughton we let him go.
Rafa Benitez.
Correct if I'm wrong auld arses.
Shankly. Paisley. Fagan. Dalglish. Houllier. Benitez.
I sign off upset because of how far we have fallen in such a short time. I just hope one day we play Inter Milan so we can show him how we feel. Fuck Sky Sports, fuck TalkSport, Fuck all those scummy shitty papers, the Kop appreciate the man, the legend, the quiet but dignified Benitez.
Our Shankly.
Our Man.
Our Benitez. I personally, will never forget you.