Just two days before a European Cup Final, where do I start from?
Being born in 1980, and getting well into football in the late eighties, I remember European football being awash with Italian teams, sweeping everyone infront of them, particularly AC Milan, with my class being full of their fans. I felt pain, I felt jealousy that they could watch their team gliding all over Europe. We won it four times but never had the first hand experience and not even a video to remind me the greatness of my club. It was alright seeing in print on Sunday's paper Liverpool winning match after match in the local league, but Europe was something else. It was like hearing a mate recounts the great time he had in Disneyland last Summer, when the furthest you've been was the local beach.
The nineties were not much different. Well, even success in the local league got economical now. Late in the nineties though, special European nights were being witnessed again. As Roy Evans once said, 'Anfield without European football is like a banquet without red wine'. The red wine got tasted, it felt good but ultimately always came short in the final hurdles. Gerard Houllier's first full season was without the red wine but his team harvested enough grapes for the following season. One match after another, the Reds slowly starting make their mark and the big test arrived in February when the draws pitted Liverpool against AS Roma who were leading the Serie A, and eventually won lo scudetto. Cafu, Battistuta and Totti and l'Olimpico awaits. I still vividly remember the butterflies in my stomach. This was the biggest European test since Paris St Germain a good four years before. The Romans initially pegged us, and the ref's half-time whistle couldn't come quickly enough. Second half started, and the still young prodigy under the name of Michael Owen intercepts a loose back pass and cooly deposits into the net. Delirium ensues. It wasn't enough, beyond everyone's wildest dreams Michael Owen deposits into the net again to travel back to Anfield with a 2-0 advantage. Anfield awaited its biggest European match for years, whilst having a League Cup Final to look forward to the following Sunday. The good times were being felt again and the then boss was being lauded from the rooftops. The return did not go exactly to plan as Roma put one back but ultimately was not enough to deny Liverpool from travelling to Porto.
Porto conquered and so were Barcelona in the semi's. The modest Basque side of Alaves awaited in Dortmund. Liverpool were in their first European final since the maligned one in 1985. And the pattern of creating the biggest and most talked finals in the corresponding competitions Liverpool are in started there. Going into the dressing rooms with a 3-1 lead, the UEFA Cup looked almost in the bag. But two goals in a couple of minutes as the the second half got on, twisted the tale. Robbie Fowler came in, and duly he scored a peach of a goal. At 4-3 it was surely it, and whilst the clock ticked on the ninetieth minute the lads just had to use their possession wisely to run off the clock. Cruyff's son thought different and headed past Sander Westerveld to take us into extra-time. Liverpool went missing out of European finals for sixteen long years, but once there in their own backyard, the gods contrived to give them what's their due as a Gary McAllister free-kick was helped into the net by a lad called Delfi, and yes he was in Alaves colours!
Liverpool were back again in Europe and it felt good, very good in fact. Like a glass of red vintage wine after being denied off it for a long time as in sixteen years.
The following years, Liverpool never missed out on European football, but the campaigns were far lacking from the greatness the Bob Paisley sides achieved. Europe felt more like a bridge too far than an exotic backyard we all just simply loved.
Then a certain Spaniard Rafael Benitez took over and what better way to carve his name into every red's heart? Rafa took Europe by storm, and the adventures were not just tales of flying in and flying out on a low-cost air-carrier. Benitez simply transcended the previous four years' shortcomings, match after match he displayed his tactical nous, made Anfield believe and provoked Anfield to emulate Inter Milan in 1965 and St Etienne in 1977. That was how far Benitez got into his first season.
But that was only a drop in an ocean compared to the history he, his players and the fans created at the Ataturk on the 25th of May, 2005. It has all been written before and frankly I cannot bring myself to put justice on what happened on that night. One thing I am sure of is though, like his predecessor he made people happy, and brought out all sort of emotions off any red I know.
Special is too common a word to describe that night and its emotions.
And two years later, here we are again. PSV, Bordeaux and Galatasarray were swept aside in the group stage. The European Champions, Barcelona containing Ronaldinho and Messi were dispatched, PSV were made looking ordinary and for the third consecutive time Jose Mourinho's side were left feeling sorry for their bruises.
In some of Houllier's years, I used to believe that number nineteen is only round the corner. But the Champions League felt like the holy grail which is beyond our reach. It was too big to ask for and dream about. And now, we are just waiting for a second final in three years with a gorgeous and shiny European Cup already at Anfield for keeps.
Sometimes you do not appreciate what you've got, but thinking about it we only lived and are waiting for something on the extraordinary side of things.
Being born in 1980, and getting well into football in the late eighties, I remember European football being awash with Italian teams, sweeping everyone infront of them, particularly AC Milan, with my class being full of their fans. I felt pain, I felt jealousy that they could watch their team gliding all over Europe. We won it four times but never had the first hand experience and not even a video to remind me the greatness of my club. It was alright seeing in print on Sunday's paper Liverpool winning match after match in the local league, but Europe was something else. It was like hearing a mate recounts the great time he had in Disneyland last Summer, when the furthest you've been was the local beach.
The nineties were not much different. Well, even success in the local league got economical now. Late in the nineties though, special European nights were being witnessed again. As Roy Evans once said, 'Anfield without European football is like a banquet without red wine'. The red wine got tasted, it felt good but ultimately always came short in the final hurdles. Gerard Houllier's first full season was without the red wine but his team harvested enough grapes for the following season. One match after another, the Reds slowly starting make their mark and the big test arrived in February when the draws pitted Liverpool against AS Roma who were leading the Serie A, and eventually won lo scudetto. Cafu, Battistuta and Totti and l'Olimpico awaits. I still vividly remember the butterflies in my stomach. This was the biggest European test since Paris St Germain a good four years before. The Romans initially pegged us, and the ref's half-time whistle couldn't come quickly enough. Second half started, and the still young prodigy under the name of Michael Owen intercepts a loose back pass and cooly deposits into the net. Delirium ensues. It wasn't enough, beyond everyone's wildest dreams Michael Owen deposits into the net again to travel back to Anfield with a 2-0 advantage. Anfield awaited its biggest European match for years, whilst having a League Cup Final to look forward to the following Sunday. The good times were being felt again and the then boss was being lauded from the rooftops. The return did not go exactly to plan as Roma put one back but ultimately was not enough to deny Liverpool from travelling to Porto.
Porto conquered and so were Barcelona in the semi's. The modest Basque side of Alaves awaited in Dortmund. Liverpool were in their first European final since the maligned one in 1985. And the pattern of creating the biggest and most talked finals in the corresponding competitions Liverpool are in started there. Going into the dressing rooms with a 3-1 lead, the UEFA Cup looked almost in the bag. But two goals in a couple of minutes as the the second half got on, twisted the tale. Robbie Fowler came in, and duly he scored a peach of a goal. At 4-3 it was surely it, and whilst the clock ticked on the ninetieth minute the lads just had to use their possession wisely to run off the clock. Cruyff's son thought different and headed past Sander Westerveld to take us into extra-time. Liverpool went missing out of European finals for sixteen long years, but once there in their own backyard, the gods contrived to give them what's their due as a Gary McAllister free-kick was helped into the net by a lad called Delfi, and yes he was in Alaves colours!
Liverpool were back again in Europe and it felt good, very good in fact. Like a glass of red vintage wine after being denied off it for a long time as in sixteen years.
The following years, Liverpool never missed out on European football, but the campaigns were far lacking from the greatness the Bob Paisley sides achieved. Europe felt more like a bridge too far than an exotic backyard we all just simply loved.
Then a certain Spaniard Rafael Benitez took over and what better way to carve his name into every red's heart? Rafa took Europe by storm, and the adventures were not just tales of flying in and flying out on a low-cost air-carrier. Benitez simply transcended the previous four years' shortcomings, match after match he displayed his tactical nous, made Anfield believe and provoked Anfield to emulate Inter Milan in 1965 and St Etienne in 1977. That was how far Benitez got into his first season.
But that was only a drop in an ocean compared to the history he, his players and the fans created at the Ataturk on the 25th of May, 2005. It has all been written before and frankly I cannot bring myself to put justice on what happened on that night. One thing I am sure of is though, like his predecessor he made people happy, and brought out all sort of emotions off any red I know.
Special is too common a word to describe that night and its emotions.
And two years later, here we are again. PSV, Bordeaux and Galatasarray were swept aside in the group stage. The European Champions, Barcelona containing Ronaldinho and Messi were dispatched, PSV were made looking ordinary and for the third consecutive time Jose Mourinho's side were left feeling sorry for their bruises.
In some of Houllier's years, I used to believe that number nineteen is only round the corner. But the Champions League felt like the holy grail which is beyond our reach. It was too big to ask for and dream about. And now, we are just waiting for a second final in three years with a gorgeous and shiny European Cup already at Anfield for keeps.
Sometimes you do not appreciate what you've got, but thinking about it we only lived and are waiting for something on the extraordinary side of things.
posted by jean paul at 8:34 am
1 Comments:
Do you remember that although we beat Roma 0-2 in Rome, when they came to Anfield they were 1-0 up and denied an obvious penalty where incredibly the referee seemed to change his mind after giving the decision? That's how close we were that night.
The Alaves Uefa final was a classic, after many pundits had predicted a dour, defensive affair. Ultimately Alaves's indiscipline cost them when two of their players were sent off in extra time. Even if McAllister's corner had not been deflected into the Alaves net at the rate they were going they wouldn't have been able to find 5 players to take the penalties....
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