Liverpool FC Forum

The Ace1983 wrote:At 1:20 in the morning on the 26th of May, 2005, anyone travelling between a little town in Oxfordshire and the surrounding hamlets would have seen a peculiar site. They would have seen a big, hairy, 21 year old man wearing one Liverpool shirt while waving another one over his head, drunkenly singing You'll Never Walk Alone and dancing in the middle of the road. That was me. It's hard to remember a happier time. In truth, it's quite hard to remember that time seeing as I had run a mile to a pub, drunk one of every red drink behind the bar (and a few others that had been made red useing squash, at least I hope it was squash), annoyed a lot of grumpy Chelsea and Man Utd fans and danced all the way home.

But today, I have been trying to remember what I felt like before the game and that is a really hard thing to do. The last days of the league had been a bust what with finishing fifth and I was still annoyed by losing the league cup. I didn't hold much hope to be honest. We had got a bit lucky with the goal from our little Luis in the Semis and if we are being honest, we might have settled for reaching the semis in Rafa's first season. I was legitimately happy that we had reached the final. And that was it. I was happy. I wasn't ecstatic, nor was I elated or thrilled. I was happy, tinged with anxiety.

But I had a problem. Due to a ridiculous superstition, I could not watch Liverpool on the TV. If I watched they lost, if I stayed away, they won. I remember my Dad, my own father sending me outside during a game against... I think it was Leeds, but I might be wrong. And as soon as I had left the room, Liverpool scored, and we won. So here I was, preparing for the biggest Liverpool game in an age, knowing that I couldn't even watch it. So I was somewhat detached. I was chewing my fingernails down to the nerve, but I had some distance. So I went to see a film.

If I stayed at home, knowing that the Champion's League final was a button away on my TV, I would have let temptation get the better of me, I would have watched and we would have lost and I would have hated myself. So me and a mate (who hates all team sports) went to go and see Star Wars III at the local cinema. By the end of it, I had managed to bury my nerves beneath the whole Anakin into Vader thing but my timing was way off. I got to the taxi place (where all the drivers were supporting Milan) and I saw the TV. We were 1 down and Crespo scored the offside goal as I waited for my cab. I felt sick, distressed, and alone in my anguish. Any chance of blocking out my fears were gone. I went home feeling terrible and then I got a load of stick from my Tottenham supporting family members.

I flicked on at half time to see if we'd got one back, but we were 3-0 down and then I felt.. actually, i felt surprisingly ok. I was now resigned to defeat and i thought "f**k it, I may as well watch it now, it can't get that much worse even if I do watch". The second half started and an hour and a half or so later, I was sprinting down the road, laughing, singing and on top of the world. I was in heaven. It was the only way to put it.

But this year, it's different. I feel, nervous but calm. I got rid of that superstition so I shall be watching the match with my dad, in the pub and y'know what? I think we're gonna win. I really do. In fact, I can't see us losing. All of this confidence and comfort and even the nerves are telling me that we must be a better team. We have options. There is no Djimi Traore, there's no Baros or Cisse. We have quality, we have depth and we have players who fight to the death. And we've still got Carra and Stevie.

I'm watching football years now and I'm seeing Paisley, Dalglish, Souness, Rush... you know the rest. We were winning it all back then and the more I look at our manager and our squad, the more i see icons just waiting for their bronze statues and iconoclastic status. I know it would be jinxing it to say that we'll win everything and that a new dynasty will arise, but not for twenty years has there been a better chance, I'm convinced of it.

The point of this post was to try and remember how I felt two years ago, but that is unimportant. How i feel now? I feel great. Ok, the nerves are so crippling that I feel like chucking my guts every ten minutes but its more excitement than anxiety. Our players can be proud, but if they want it, if they really want it, they are good enough to become legends tomorrow night. We have the men, we have the manager, we know how to do it. And the feeling in my guts is telling me that we will do it. How do you feel?

Here comes No.6. I can feel it.