Steven Gerrard: My Liverpool Story (16 page)

Applauding the Twelfth Man

Win, lose or draw, I always clap the fans after every game. Every player should do that as a matter of course. It is a mark of respect for the effort they have made to follow the team. As captain, I wouldn’t say to my team-mates, ‘Go and clap the fans.’ Every player has their own responsibility to do that, but it is something I take seriously. The Liverpool fans are the best around and that is not just me being biased. Look at some of the people who have said nice things about our supporters, people who have no ties with the club. They have just felt the power of Liverpool fans in full cry and it is an amazing experience.

THE CHAMPIONS LEAGUE ODYSSEY

I have walked out at the Nou Camp with almost
100,000 Catalans whistling at me, played in front of 90,000 fans at Wembley and faced up to the abuse 75,000 supporters inside Old Trafford can muster. Anfield has a capacity of half of some of those venues, but its power remains untouchable. Liverpool’s Champions League win in 2005 will forever be synonymous with Istanbul, but do not under-estimate the importance of the raw energy and electricity Anfield conjured up during that rollercoaster run to the final.

If the truth is told, we were maybe only the 10th or 11th best team in Europe that season. But in a game played over two legs, we were up there, and that was overwhelmingly due to the force Anfield exudes. On a big European night, when the stakes are high, there is something in the air in the stadium. It is hard to describe what it is. You can’t see it, but you feel it.

It makes the team walking out of the home dressing room feel 10 feet tall and our opponents shrink in size. The tidal wave of momentum the Kop and the other stands generate was first seen against Olympiakos in the group stage when we were cornered and, at half-time, staring elimination full in the face.

When you get a taste for the Champions League, you want to play in it again and again. I hate sitting at home on a Tuesday or Wednesday evening watching the best teams in Europe go at it hammer and tongs, knowing that I am just a helpless spectator.

Our league form had been patchy which meant Europe took on even greater importance for us and I remember doing the press conference the day before the game. We knew we had to beat Olympiakos by two clear goals to progress and I was asked what would happen if we went out of the competition. I answered the question honestly and said I would look at where I felt the club was going, that I would assess things.

I didn’t mean ‘if we lose, I’m off’, but that is how it was interpreted and I can understand why. I was probably a bit rash in what I said and that is one of the press conferences I have learnt the most from.

The next morning, the morning of the game, it was headline news. Seeing my name across the back pages comes with the territory of playing for Liverpool and England. Most interviews I do end up being strongly projected. But I was concerned that the fans would read the headlines and think that if we were beaten I would be definitely leaving. The pressure had been turned up a notch.

The best way of clearing everything up was to make sure we won, but when Rivaldo scored a free-kick midway through the first half we were up against it. That was to be a scenario that brought the best out of us that season and Anfield came alive when we jogged back out for the second-half, needing to score three goals.

Take nothing away from the substitutions Rafa made at the break for getting us over the line though. Neil Mellor and Florent Sinama Pongolle came on at half-time and without their intervention Istanbul would have forever remained a pipe-dream. Make no mistake about that.

Substitutions change games but I must admit that when they both came on, I didn’t really see what Rafa was hoping to do. With all due respect to Mellor and Pongolle, they hadn’t done a great deal for Liverpool up to that point and they weren’t used to playing in games with so much riding on them. Yet within minutes Pongolle scored and then Mellor scrambled a second with nine minutes left to set up a grandstand finish.

One goal. We needed one more goal. I knew the moment would come. All the hours you spend on the training pitch, the times you stay behind and practise after the main session is finished, are for moments like the one that fell to me in the 86th minute that night. Mellor’s header set me up perfectly and I knew as soon as I hit a shot from 25 yards that it was going to go close. The shot was going away from the goalkeeper and it found the back of the net. Pandemonium. Then Exhilaration. Then relief.

It is one of my best goals and the funny thing about that is that I never actually felt it. The ball came off my boot so sweetly that it belied the power that I managed to get into the finish. It is a bit like hitting a golf shot when you connect with the ball just right and you don’t feel it, there’s hardly a reverberation up the club.

We were through, but it was only later in the competition that the players started to get a feeling that this was going to be our year. We had cleared a hurdle, played well, it had been a great night, but at the same time I thought how did we get in that much trouble in the first place?

Beating Juventus over two legs in the quarter-final fuelled the belief in the dressing room and then came Chelsea. Again.

Three months after the lowest point of my career, here was a chance to try and make amends by reaching the Champions League Final.

Chelsea had all the power and strength. They were on their way to winning the title in Mourinho’s first season and resembled a relentless machine under him. No one gave us a chance. Drawing 0–0 at Stamford Bridge in the first-leg was a good result, but offered Chelsea as much encouragement as us given away goals counted double.

It was imperative we got off to a good start. Usually when you come out to warm up at Anfield 45 minutes before kick-off, the stands are still quite empty.

That night it seemed every Liverpool supporter realised what was at stake and turned up early on purpose. The noise was deafening. Inspiring every player in red, but intimidating everyone in blue. How could we let them down?

Luis Garcia’s happy knack of coming up with big goals was never more crucial than on that night. Chelsea can debate whether the ball crossed the line or not, but consistently overlook that Petr Cech clattered Milan Baros before the rebound fell to Luis and he could have given away a penalty and been sent off. The fact that Luis was in the right place at the right time was no accident. Rafa always worked on the wide players running into the space between opposing full-backs and central defenders and so many goals originate from that move.

Over the two legs, I actually thought Chelsea were a stronger team than us. But we pulled through because we were all in it together. We had our brilliant fans, who created a wall of noise the like of which I had never heard before, and we had some majestic performances.

Sometimes you can win a big game by not necessarily playing great football and playing teams off the park. When it is not going well, you can get through by hanging in there, believing and grabbing the little bits of luck when they come.

We did that against Chelsea and were soon to call upon that blueprint once again.

“Pandemonium. Then exhilaration. Then relief.”

The Tide Turns in Our Favour

The goal I scored against Olympiakos in the group stages of the Champions League in 2004 is one of my favourites. Everything was against us when Rivaldo curled home a free-kick for the Greek side in the first half, leaving us needing to find three goals in order to progress. Florent Sinama Pongolle and Neil Mellor reduced the arrears before I struck from distance with time running out. I caught the shot so sweetly that as soon as it left my right boot I knew there was a good chance of it hitting the back of the net. I was showered with plaudits afterwards, but without the efforts of Pongolle and Mellor and the rest of the team, the game would have gone long before I got involved.

THAT EPIC FINAL

Istanbul. The very mention of the word makes me
smile and brings memories, glorious, surreal memories, flooding back.

The pressure to win silverware at Liverpool is massive. From the moment you sign for the club, you are aware of the history and when you play for the first team that pressure intensifies. So to deliver the biggest trophy in club football when no one expected it was huge.

The night before the final, I couldn’t sleep. I get really excited about big games and finals and I was constantly tossing and turning. I couldn’t sleep in the afternoon on the day of the game either. Nowadays, I can have 40 winks after training no problem, but that probably has something to do with having three kids and trying to catch up on all the sleep I’ve missed!

As a result, I found myself yawning and feeling drained when we were doing all our pre-match stuff. It took a while for the adrenaline to kick back in and in many ways that was the same for everyone. We were caught napping as a team when the game started. Instead of realising our dreams, we found ourselves initially plunged into a nightmare.

AC Milan were a strong team with outstanding players, but we made them look exceptional as well. We couldn’t get near them.

Paolo Maldini scored inside a minute and, with Kaka running the midfield, the Italians added a second and then a third through goals from Hernan Crespo. Walking off at half-time, I felt embarrassed. We were being humiliated on our big night. We had been played off the park. It was men against boys.

A lot has been said about Rafa’s half-time team talk at the Ataturk Stadium, but there was no real mystique to it. He spoke about playing for pride, he mentioned the fans, who had forked out such enormous sums of money to take over Istanbul and the stadium itself, and he urged us to keep believing. ‘Let’s try and score the next goal,’ he said. ‘Then, we will see.’ Then he ran through the tactical changes, he wanted to implement. Steven Finnan was struggling with an injury and Didi Hamann came on. Rafa wanted me to play a little further forward as a result.

I tried to gee the lads up as well, but at that stage I was simply trying to be positive. Privately, I thought the game was over and I was praying that we would not slip any further behind. ‘Please don’t let it get to five or six-nil,’ I thought.

I cannot fully explain what happened next. Why a game that was beyond us was turned on its head. Yes, we had our togetherness and spirit and Rafa’s tactics worked, but you would have to ask AC Milan why they collapsed so dramatically. Why for six minutes at the start of the second half they were so open, so weak and seemed physically tired when they had been like lions before that. It didn’t feel like we were playing the same side.

We were different as well. I have scored more eye-catching goals, but the header that flew into the top corner past Dida from John Arne Riise’s cross is undoubtedly the most important of my entire career. It offered us a foothold and more importantly gave us a slither of hope.