I have been thinking and writing about the Barcelona match since probably the draw. While having our bread and butter the caviar was always looming. Yet the match at the Nou Camp has come and gone, and today six days after I still haven't written one single word about it. Considering that I was even privileged enough of actually being there, experienceing one of the greatest nights in Liverpool's illustrious history is even more unforgivable or else shows the limits of my writing prolificness! The thing though is that since that night I felt honestly drained as the match itself and the travelling involved took everything off me. I took my notepad with me so as to record everything I went through, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I had high hopes of achieving a respectable result, but winning 2-1 after going one goal down was beyond my and probably of most reds dreams. Having Bellamy and Riise on the scoresheet after all the tales of shenanigans we had to endure makes it the more sweeter and surreal, in a too good to be true way.

I have been to the Nou Camp once before to watch the Catalans take on AC Milan while on my way to the Riazor Stadium in A Coruna. My seat that night was in the first tier, reasonably close to all the action. The view this time round made the lads look like miniatures, but how more fulfilling it was! It really is a matter of not what it shines is gold. The enormity of the Nou Camp, especially from up there swallows you and make you feel small but by the final whistle every red present must have felt his chest swelling with pride.

Apart the goal scorers and the tactical genius of Rafael Benitez, it is Momo Sissoko that I have to single out as he deserves the real special praise and was my man of the match by the whole distance from where I was sat (or stood) to the pitch. He must have used as much energy as other players do in two whole matches. No wonder, his name was echoing through Las Ramblas and Place Reail, he's magic you know.. you'll never get past Sissoko. On second thoughts his energy might be another reason of global warming.

The metro on its way to the Les Cortes district was bouncing and loud, the anticipation of the match felt in your bones. After having secured such a wonderful result you would expect the return journey to be verging on explosive but it couldn't be further from the truth. The travelling army was still taking it all in, and rather than loud laughter and songs, there were big, satisfied grins on all faces.

Yet, there were no signs of tiredness on the chosen eleven facing Sheffield United. The caviar must have been washed down with the finest Catalan wines but the hunger for the usual bread and butter was still there and tasted satisfyingly good, as Liverpool cruised to a four-nil victory and banished any fear of a hangover. This time it was Steven Gerrard's turn to be the shiniest star in the familiar surroundings of Anfield, having won two penalties and wrap up the match by drilling a shot past the hapless Paddy Kenny through the Kop's net.

The old legend Robbie Fowler reminded us of the old adage that whilst form is temporary, class is permanent. A couple of years ago a Robbie Fowler goal brought only a bout of nostalgia. This time it is the present. In the meantime, the near future has only two of the biggest matches one could dream of laying ahead.

Make us dream indeed.

Liverpool started this new era under new custodians in the best possible way as it Craig Bellamy only six minutes to silence the Geordie boo boys and the stick the ball into their net to put Liverpool infront. Seeing Liverpool going in front, especially against a team that boast Titus Bramble in their back four is a safe bet or even a banker for a Liverpool win.

However, strange things do happen and the first strange happening was on the twenty-sixth minute when Pepe Reina left his line to clear a through pass for Obafemi Martins who was being taken care of by Christian Agger. Pepe Reina was first to the ball and seemed another good decision by the reliable keeper. His clearance though rather than averting the danger only presented the Nigerian with a clear route to goal and and unguarded net.

It looked to be a mere setback on the route to a Liverpool win, or else just an episode in another classic between these two teams, as the Reds just pegged the Barcodes into their own half and shells. Craig Bellamy in particular, took the matter very personally and only the crossbar eluded him another personal sweet moment.

One minute on the stipulated forty-five minutes, the referee signalled the end of the first half, however his whistle also signalled the end of the Liverpool momentum. Dirk Kuyt's golden chance was the only exception, and talking about the Dutch, lately he seems to be rather out of place higging the touch-line rather than involved in the very thick of the action and partnering the other striker upfront.

As strange as it felt seeing Liverpool surrendering their lead, the meek response to going one down especially away from Anfield felt familiar. Rafael Benitez's response outlined the limitations of the squad on the day. Alvaro Arbeloa who claims to be more of a right-back rather than a right-winger came in for Bolo Zenden whilst the rookie Danny Guthrie replaced Jermaine Pennant. The only striker on the bench Peter Crouch was given less than ten minutes to make his mark.

The duel with Arsenal for the third place now intensifies, with the latter having to face Wigan in their own stadium. It seems that apart from surrendering a lead, even a position in the table will have to be surrendered.
Liverpool have now eleven days to take this disappointing reversal out of their system. A training camp at Algarve and the prospect of facing Barcelona at the Nou Camp in the Champions League last sixteen should be much more than enough to write off yesterday as just a bad day in the office consigned to the recycle bin.

The unbeaten home record was increased by one other game, but it is only scant consolation to take and on second thoughts it only feels like clutching on straws. The one really feeling felt after the final whistle is of frustration of not being able to break up them annoying neighbours. Coupled with that was the hopelesness during the match, somehow as the minutes were ticking by in the second half I had that feeling of hollowness that the ball would never get in the onion bag.

Liverpool attacked and attacked and the statistics this morning show 25 goal attempts, but the real goal mouth action must be only in a single figure, with their goalkeeper Tim Howard never really stretching himself to the very limit. Nor Everton's goal post or bar was ever really tested.

On days like these, you just rue the injuries and what the match was really screaming for was Luis Garcia. He infuriates me sometimes, or even most of the times but matches like these are won by one single piece of magic and he did that more than once in a Liverpool shirt. Xabi Alonso, even though having a quiet game by his own lofty standards went close to do that when he had a shot and with Tim Howard beaten the ball only ended on the outside of the net's ceiling. When you can't enter through the door, you try entering through the window but as shots from long range go, Xabi's shot was the closest that Liverpool had to show.

Saint James Park is now calling, which should be a good preparation for the very big match at the Nou Camp and a good match in itself. The talk of a late title surge is quieter today, but Liverpool never really got carried away about it and the cautious take on all the title talk would mean that yesterday's two points dropped will only be taken on the chin and never a real blow.