Steven Gerrard: My Liverpool Story

by Gerrard, Steven

  Power Play

  * * *

  The fact that I am so off-balance demonstrates the power that I have tried to put into this free-kick. Fortunately, it found the back of the net. Unfortunately, we lost the game 3–1 and it proved no more than a consolation strike. The players in the wall tell you how difficult the game was: Pires, Vieira, Gilberto, Van Persie and Fabregas.

  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.

  From the dressing room at half-time we had all heard ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ echo around the arena. It was sung in open defiance. Now the noise from the stands carried more belief. Could we do it? When Vladimir Smicer scored from distance moments later, the Ataturk erupted. The great escape was on.

  Milan Baros was often criticised for not having a great sense of awareness for what was happening on the pitch, but the little touch he played into my path as we sought the equaliser was exquisite. An arm in my back from Gennaro Gattuso and I was sent sprawling. Penalty. Xabi Alonso stepped up to take the spot-kick and although Dida saved his effort, he smashed home the rebound into the roof of the net. Amazing.

  We had all been scooped up and swept along in a whirlwind, but there was no chance to consider what we had just done. As soon as the scoreline went to 3–3, I was thinking ‘penalties. Let’s get to penalties.’

  The shock of throwing away such a commanding advantage seemed to stir Milan to their senses, like a boxer being givien smelling salts. They poured forward again.

  We dug in, putting our bodies on the line and then relying on a bit of luck as well. Jamie Carragher was immense in defence – defying Milan time after time as well as the cramp that was shooting up his legs – and then there was Jerzy Dudek.

  Talk to him today and he still does not know how he managed to save a header from Andrei Shevchenko that looked goal-bound. The look of disbelief on Shevchenko’s face immediately afterwards is priceless.

  In that split second, Milan had it confirmed to them that this was not going to be their night and their lack of confidence was evident in the penalty shoot-out that followed.

  Didi, Vladi and Djibril Cisse scored for us and even though Riise was wayward, Milan could not afford another miss from 12 yards.

  Rafa had put me down to take the fifth penalty that night which, given the misses before from Milan, had the potential to be the crucial spot-kick. No problem. I was up for it. But when people say, ‘Oh, you are so lucky to be a footballer’ and ‘I would give anything to be a footballer, you have such an easy life and get paid all this money’ they have to remember the flipside. What I say to those people is straightforward. Could you handle the pressure of knowing that you are five seconds away from taking a penalty in the Champions League Final? And not only that, but you are five seconds away from taking the penalty that could win the Champions League for Liverpool? Do you fancy that? Could you cope with that, knowing that if you miss you could be remembered for that for the rest of your life?

  So when Shevchenko was walking up to take the penalty that Milan needed to score to ensure I would have to step into the spotlight, that is what I was thinking. I was preparing myself rather than watching what was happening. I was confident of scoring and I was going to place my effort rather than going for power.

  In a pressure situation like the one Shevchenko was under, the last thing I thought was that he was going to dink his spot-kick.

  So when Jerzy pulled off the save, it was a split second before I realised I wouldn’t have to take my penalty after all and that we had won the Champions League, or the European Cup as it was before, for a fifth time.

  And then it hit me. I was off. Off trying to catch Carra, off to celebrate with my team and our fans.

  The celebrations went on into the early hours of the morning. There was no time to sleep. Each and every one of us was too caught up in what we had just achieved. Relief and euphoria were my over-riding emotions and then I felt drained and tired for days after because the pressure in the build-up and during the game itself was intense. But to have ‘Champions League winner’ on my CV, well, it doesn’t get any better than that.

  The trophy we won is on display in reception at the training ground and I walk past it every day. When I see it, or when I am watching a Champions League game at home, moments from that match against Milan flash into my mind. But I don’t really reflect on and wallow in that triumph much any more. I will never forget that night, but it no longer feels fresh. These days, I think more about what else I can win before I finish my career; what other trophies I can lift before I call it a day.

  * * *

  “I felt embarrassed. We were being humiliated.”

  * * *

  Shock and Awe

  * * *

  This picture tells a thousand words. We’re all shell-shocked as we wait for AC Milan to kick-off following another goal in Istanbul. If you look at my face I’m thinking, ‘They’re too good for us. We’re not going to win this game. We’re getting the runaround.’ How often have you seen Xabi Alonso in the last few years look like that, just staring in the distance, helpless? It doesn’t happen to him, does it? You can shout and try to coax some belief back into your team-mates, but it is hard to make yourself heard in that sort of atmosphere. Also, it is tough to say anything meaningful that
isn’t just trying to paper over the cracks. We were 3–0 down at half-time and surely down and out.

  Coming to Terms With a Disastrous First Half

  * * *

  Knowing Rafa, he is probably telling me to get control of Kaka and get someone on Andrea Pirlo. And knowing me, I’m probably saying, ‘It’s impossible.’ We were getting over-run so much in midfield it was a nightmare. Pirlo earned rave reviews at Euro 2012 for the way he played for Italy, especially in the penalty shoot-out win over England in the quarter-finals. If you give him time and space, he will look good because technically, with the ball at his feet, he is as good as anyone in the world. If you get bodies around him, you can run off him and I don’t think he is very physical but he controls games with his passing if you let him.

  Heading in the Right Direction

  * * *

  I have scored better goals and come up with more eye-catching strikes, but, without doubt, this is the most important goal-scoring intervention of my entire career. It gave us back a little bit of respect, and some belief too, but I still didn’t think it would spark the tremendous fight-back that followed. I checked my initial run because John Arne Riise’s first cross was blocked, then I gambled on going into the box again. What is surprising about the goal when you see this picture is how much space I had between Jaap Stam and Alessandro Nesta, who were two of the best defenders in the world at the time. To get a header right in the middle of them, and in a game of that magnitude, was special for me. The header was instinctive. I went for accuracy rather than power because the cross was that good.