”From Humiliation to Jubilation in Istanbul”
(Taken from Daily Mail Sept 27)
The room was quiet. Nothing was being said. Nothing could be said. We were 3-0 down to AC Milan in the biggest game of our lives. We were being slaughtered; the only noise was the manager working away on the board trying to find a way back.
Suddenly, through the silence you could hear ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ as our fans incredibly found their voice once more. I’d like to say that it inspired me and made me want to go out and claw the three goals back, made us turn in the performance of our lives to pull off that incredible comeback; but if I’m honest it just made me feel that much worse.
‘They’re doing their bit but we haven’t done ours’ I thought. I felt like crying for them at that point.
Beating Chelsea in the Champions League Semi-Final had brought a sense of triumph to the city of Liverpool. The fans were nuts with expectation.
They had chosen to ignore how bad we’d been in the Premiership. Some of our players were better suited to the Champions League because – and this doesn’t sound a nice thing to say about your team-mates – it was less of a battle.
It sickens me to think how close we came to going out to Chelsea, but we were going to Istanbul and our fans were convinced we were going to win the European Cup.
The buzz was almost unbearable but I wasn’t nervous. I slept fine the night before, no problem. I had another kip in the afternoon. The game was on my mind though. You watch the match in your head. I just want to start the game well, get a few good touches early on, relax into it, ease in.
We couldn’t have been better prepared. We had ten days between our last Premiership game and the final and so every day we were working on one thing: playing against AC Milan. We were recreating possible scenarios. How do we play if we’re winning 1-0 with ten minutes to go, how do we play if we are 1-0 down with ten minutes to go? Rafa’s good, but even he didn’t practise what we should do if we were 3-0 down at half-time!
Before the game we went out on the pitch, thinking ‘bloody hell, look at how many fans we have here’. I loved the banners. Some of them even had my name on. God, that made me feel good. I knew how much tickets were costing some. You were talking £1,000 and that’s before you add the ale money.
The game started, we were all focused. And then boom, we’re losing. It was our kick off! How did they score a goal from our bloody kick off? Djimi Traore was a bit nervous and he lost the ball and then gave away a foul. From that free-kick Paolo Maldini scored. We had built up to this for ten days, and then within a minute we are 1-0 down. None of us had had a kick and it’s killed everything. The game plan, the atmosphere, it’s all gone.
Then we lost Harry Kewell; it was all going wrong out there. Djmi was still a bit nervous and needed talking to. We needed to hold a stronger line. He switched on and was immense in the second half.
Then we were 2-0 down. Kaka put in Andriy Shevchenko, who crossed it past me and Hernan Crespo scored. I was lying on the turf thinking ‘that’s it…’
Difficult was about to turn into nigh-on impossible. Kaka played through a brilliant pass which I stretched for but couldn’t intercept. At the time I thought, “oh
, I’ve made a mistake there’ but I’ve watched it since and realise it was just a class ball. Crespo’s finish was incredible and at 3-0 it’s a rout.Now I was just embarrassed. You don’t go 3-0 down before half time in a European Cup Final. It’s not done. If someone had said to me then, ‘this’ll finish 3-0’ I’d have taken it. That sounds mad now, but at the time I just wanted to stop the rot. I was really thinking that this could finish 6-0.
The manager was calm at half time. There was no big talk or anything. He just got on with sorting out the tactics and said ‘let’s try and get the first goal’. To be honest, I think he shared our worries that this could be five or six.
He was all set to bring Djimi off. He hadn’t had the best of games, although he’d been better towards the end of the half. He was all undressed and ready to get in the shower when Steve Finnan said his knee was sore. So Djimi had to get dressed again, get his boots on and get ready to play another half.
We got out there, but again looked shaky and I remember Jerzy Dudek let an easy ball ricochet off his knees for a corner. I gave him a talking to for that one. I’ll bollock anyone. It doesn’t bother me. The most important thing is the football match. It doesn’t matter if you lose friends now and then, the most important thing is to win.
We didn’t come out flying in the second half, but then we scored. Stevie Gerrard’s goal didn’t have me celebrating, but at least it lessened the embarrassment. The fans started to sing and it got everyone out of the doldrums.
It certainly brought down Milan a bit. If you look at their performance in the second half, it suggests that they lost it. We were good, but they were bad. For six or seven minutes they seemed dazed. Milan weren’t tackling us!
I was seeing a lot more of the ball and getting into their half. I could sense their fear. Then Vladi Smicer banged one in and they really panicked.
Stevie won a penalty, I ran into the box and grabbed the ball. Garcia came over to take it off me, but I wasn’t having any of it. ‘You’re not taking it’ I told him. It had been agreed before the game that Xabi Alonso would be on them. He had never taken one in anger, but to be honest we didn’t have a regular penalty taker.
Xabi scored the rebound after Dida saved his kick. It was 3-3; now Milan upped their game. Fatigue was always going to come into it and I found myself lunging in for tackles where I might have stayed on my feet. I was booked for a tackle on Shevchenko and got an evil glare from the Ukrainian. Oh well!
We were knackered. Our fans, who must be world famous now, tried to lift us again.
Then I stretched to stop a Serginho cross and my groin and calves tightened with cramp. I was splayed out on the turf in pain. Our physio is being all nice and polite and waiting to be invited on to the pitch by the ref and I’m swearing. ‘
get on, forget the red.’ The problem was, straight away another ball was whipped in and I’ve had to throw myself at it again. My legs were in bits, our nerves were frayed. In the last moments Shevchenko knocked a header goalwards and from there it’s slow motion; you’re just waiting for the net to bulge and to this day I can’t believe he’s missed it. Credit to Jerzy, he pulled off one amazing save and then followed up with another block, but it’s a bad miss. I couldn’t believe that once again we were still in the game and I just grabbed Jerzy and told him I loved him. I meant it too.
When the game went to penalties I ran over to Jerzy and gave him the pep-talk. I don’t care what you call it – gamesmanship, cheating – I just wanted to win the European Cup and I told him to do his best to put them off.
Jerzy is a dead nice fella, probably too nice, and I knew he’d be dead courteous to them and shake their hands and all that. I said ‘Don’t worry about them. Put them off lad.’ It worked. Shevchenko missed with one of the worst penalties I’ve ever see.
Pandemonium.
To see that trophy with our red ribbons around it was unbelievable. Halfway through the season we were losing at Southampton, Crystal Palace, Birmingham, and Burnley even. Now we were European Champions.
Everybody you meet has a story about what they did or how they felt at half time. In one pub all the Everton fans were doing a conga; a few lads I know wouldn’t go out and watch it but at half time they all phone each other and say ‘Lets get our gear on and go to the pub for a good gloat.’ They’ve got their Everton tops on and as they walk into the boozer it’s 3-3!
My medal sits proudly in the house. My dad has been taking it around the local schools for the kids to have photos taken with it. I still have to do a double-take when I see the words Liverpool, European Champions, but that’s what the night made us and nobody can take that away.
I got married just weeks after the final and had the trophy at my wedding. They allowed me to bring it along and we had it on the top table. What a guest of honour, what a match.
