The supporters and players knew we lacked width, but it was too simplistic to point the finger at the full-backs. The problem wasn't simply my lack of natural attacking instinct, it was the imbalance in our side. Under Houllier we used a series of wide men who preferred to play in-field. Danny Murphy, Vladimir Smicer, Patrik Berger and Nick Barmby all began as central players who were asked to move to the flanks. Each of them would have loved a rampaging, overlapping full-back. What I wanted was an out-and-out winger I could feed the ball to and watch running up and down the line for ninety minutes. The combinations were wrong, not just the players. Harry Kewell arrived from Leeds United at the same time as Finnan and it was hoped the problem of lack of width would be solved. What did Houllier do? He played the left-winger on the right, so instead of staying on the flank Kewell would cut inside on his favourite foot.
Playing week in, week out, you get a sense of where the problems in the side are, but often you get an even greater insight when you step away and watch the team from the sidelines. It's not an option I'd ever choose, but in 2003–04 circumstances dictated I had more time than I wanted watching rather than playing for Liverpool. And I had Lucas Neill to thank for that: my leg was broken following his horrific tackle at Ewood Park on 13 September 2003.
People often claim I tried to play on with the injury, but I hate that. I wasn't being courageous. I genuinely didn't know how serious the knock was until hours later. I thought I could run it off. My problem at the time was that Milan Baros had snapped his ankle a few minutes earlier, so by the time I was carried off our brilliant club doctor, Mark Waller, wasn't around. I had to be treated by a physio from Blackburn who seemed more interested in telling jokes than dealing with my pain. My dad knew I wouldn't come off the pitch unless there was a serious problem, although by the time he reached the treatment room he was as concerned about getting his hands – or his fists – on Neill.
Houllier and Thommo were as angry on my behalf, but the argument that followed between Liverpool and Blackburn got out of hand. I'm sure the existing bad blood between the respective coaching staffs – a consequence of Thommo's sacking by Souness years earlier – contributed to the ferocity of the attacks on Neill. I didn't want to be used as an excuse to have another go at Souness, who was entitled to offer as much support as he could to his own player. Besides, I like Souness and have a lot of respect for him. Neill, on the other hand . . .
I didn't contribute to the animosity in the press, but my mates were ready to hunt him down if I gave the go-ahead. A few weeks later, I received a phone call.
'You won't believe this, Jay. We're in the Trafford Centre and Lucas Neill is walking straight towards us. What do you reckon?'
Did I really want Neill to take a crack?
'There's only one problem,' added the voice. 'He's got little Davey Thommo with him.'
That was that. I could hardly let one of my best mates, David Thompson, now a Blackburn player, become a witness to an assault; besides, he'd have recognized the attackers. The impromptu mission was aborted, and I sent a text to Thommo telling him Neill should be giving him a hug of thanks. As word got back to Blackburn about the near miss, or should that be hit, their coach Terry Darracott – a Scouser – appealed to one of my friends to 'call the boys off'. I agreed, so the Australian never felt the full force of a Bootle revenge mission.
Neill almost had the last laugh when Rafa Benitez tried to sign him twice during the 2006–07 season. Our interest in him annoyed me. We only pursued him as a squad player. He wasn't the type who'd be able to turn Liverpool into a Premiership-winning side, and of all the defenders available I couldn't understand why we were chasing him. Neill had the cheek to turn us down for West Ham. I was pleased.
Unexpectedly, the spell out of action improved my game. While the leg was mending I had time to rethink my style of play, and I returned a much more attacking full-back. This was no consolation to Houllier. The injury came at the worst possible time for him as speculation surrounding his future grew.
I was never appreciated more by the supporters or the manager than when I wasn't available. My reputation improved. The fans began to see how much I added to the defence. Houllier offered me a new contract while my leg was in plaster, and spoke in glowing terms about me in the papers, underlining how much I'd be missed. It must be said, this didn't go down so well with other players. John Arne Riise said he felt undermined hearing how the defenders weren't coping without me. I'd have felt the same way, but from a personal point of view I'd never felt more secure at the club than when I was injured.
I was determined to return as soon as possible, and formed something of a private duel with Baros to beat him back into action. Four months later, on 21 January 2004, I made my comeback against Wolves at Molineux, a month quicker than the Czech forward. Sadly, I was jumping back on board Houllier's rapidly sinking ship. The positivity of his first years in charge had started to fade, and he was now desperately trying to save his job.
It was a tragedy for him. If Houllier hadn't fallen seriously ill he might still be Liverpool's manager today.
The turning point of his reign was 13 October 2001, when Liverpool met Leeds United in the Premiership. Early in the second half I looked towards our bench and noticed he wasn't there. The seriousness of the situation only became apparent in the dressing room later. Houllier had been rushed to Broadgreen Hospital for heart surgery after collapsing at half-time. For twenty-four hours none of us knew if he'd survive. The prospect of him continuing as manager was secondary to him returning alive.
The way Phil Thompson and Sammy Lee handled the crisis in the days and months that followed remains one of the most underrated periods of this era. They were admirable, Thommo especially impressive after he was thrust into the limelight after three years in the background. There was a faultless changeover when he stepped up and took the reins, even though it was only temporary. The circumstances were appalling, but I could see he was enjoying the new responsibility. I know many of the lads preferred Thommo in his role as a caretaker manager.
I liked Thommo and was thrilled when he walked back into Melwood following Roy Evans's departure. He was a Scouser, he was a centre-half, and I knew we'd share similar views on how the game should be played. His introduction wasn't welcomed in some parts of the dressing room as much as it was by me. There were one or two lads who'd played under Thompson for the reserves before he was sacked by Souness, and when they heard news of his return they reacted as if they'd suffered a family bereavement. Thommo's reputation under Souness wasn't so good, but he proved a lot of doubters wrong in the years that followed, particularly during those five months as caretaker boss. As a former player, issues that might have been difficult for other coaches were no hassle to him. If a player was left out, he'd explain the reasons. Just like Houllier, he wouldn't think twice about slaughtering anyone who deserved it in private, but publicly he wouldn't have a bad word to say about us.
This public support was often needed, especially following the 'magic coin' scandal at Highbury in the FA Cup that season. An Arsenal fan threw a coin at me as I was taking a throw-in, so I picked it up and threw it back. There were about thirty-eight thousand fans in the crowd that day, but I think only five of them failed to make an insurance claim. Every day a new supporter was in the paper pointing to the bruise I'd given them as the coin bounced off one head on to another. Thommo backed me up, but I had to apologize and take my medicine.
It wasn't only opposing fans he had to protect me from. Danny Murphy and I took abuse from the crowd during a home game against Southampton in January 2002, and Thommo instantly stepped in on our behalf. I told someone in the Main Stand to fuck off, which earned me a rap on the knuckles behind the scenes, but Thommo willingly supported us in the papers. Houllier did the same, calling us to make sure we kept our heads up. A few days later we beat Manchester United 1–0 at Old Trafford, and Danny grabbed the winner, so their pep talks worked.
There was little hint things wo
uld go so badly wrong at this stage, especially not so rapidly. Houllier was on the mend, and increasingly dictating events from his hospital bed. Early in March 2002 he was smuggled into Anfield on the morning of a match with Newcastle and gave another inspiring team talk. 'We're going to win the League,' Didi Hamann said to me after the stirring speech. Houllier made us believe it.
Maybe he could see the impact his return had on us, particularly on an emotional evening against Roma on 19 March, when he officially made his comeback and sat in the dug-out. We needed to beat the Italians 2–0 to reach the quarter-final of the Champions League. Houllier was introduced to a crescendo of noise at Anfield, and from that point on the result was never in doubt. His brash statement declaring we were 'ten games from greatness' prior to our next European meeting, with Bayer Leverkusen, backfired terribly when we unexpectedly crashed out, but we were bidding for a Premiership and European double, and he wanted us to believe.
This was only a mild error. Even though the 2001–02 season ended without silverware, we finished second to a brilliant Arsenal team and seemed to have made giant strides in the League, closing the gap and finishing above Manchester United for the first time in ten years. We felt tantalizingly close. The serious mistakes were still to come.
In the summer of 2002, Houllier told me about two exciting new signings from Senegal, urging me to watch their opening World Cup match with France. The names El-Hadji Diouf and Salif Diao now make the legs of the toughest Liverpudlians shudder in fear.
Their reputation at Anfield was never greater than when Senegal beat France 1–0. Diao outplayed Patrick Vieira in midfield, while Diouf led the forward line. For the rest of the summer Liverpool fans were hailing a transfer coup – but not as much as Houllier himself.
I arrived for pre-season training much anticipating my first glimpse of the players who'd turn us into title winners. I returned home the same evening in a state of depression.
The first concern I had with Diouf was his pace. He didn't have any. He was signed as an alternative to Nicolas Anelka, who'd been controversially released after a successful six-month loan spell. I didn't disagree with this. Anelka was excellent, but too similar to Mo for my taste, especially for his price. I wanted a striker who'd play deeper to complement Michael. After a few training sessions with Diouf, however, I'd have walked to Man City to get Anelka back.
Do you remember being at school and picking sides for a game of football? We do this at Liverpool for the five-a-sides. Diouf was 'last pick' within a few weeks.
'You paid ten million for him and no one wants him in their team,' I shouted to Gérard. 'Says it all.'
He didn't react. He knew he'd made a mistake.
I asked Houllier why he'd bought him and he trotted off a story about Patrice Bergues, our former assistant manager, recommending the player. Bergues was now at Lens, the club that sold him to Liverpool for £10 million. Was I alone in thinking Patrice might have been thinking more about the transfer fee than Liverpool when he told his mate to sign Diouf?
In all my years at Anfield, I've never met a player who seemed to care less about winning or losing. An FA Cup defeat at Portsmouth in February 2004 effectively sealed Houllier's fate months before his sacking, and there was a desolate scene at Melwood the following day. No one was more distressed than Mo, who'd missed a penalty at Fratton Park. As he arrived at the training ground with his head down, Diouf drove in with his rave music blaring out of his car, then danced his way across the car park into the building. You'd think we'd won the cup the way he carried on.
His attitude disgusted me.
If Diouf was a disappointment, Diao was a catastrophe. He couldn't pass, was a liability when he tackled, and never looked capable of scoring a goal. And they were his good qualities. A few years into his Anfield career he was jogging around Melwood with me when he piped up with some bombshell news.
'What do Liverpool fans think about Everton?' he asked.
I thought it was a bit strange given he'd been with us a while.
'Why?' I asked.
'They've been in touch with my agent. Do you think the Liverpool fans will be upset with me if I sign for Everton?'
So excited was I by this question, I even convinced myself the rivalry between the Reds and Blues was over-hyped in a forlorn bid to talk him into the move.
'Not a problem,' I told him. 'If you go to Everton they'll love you for turning your back on Liverpool and the Liverpool fans will wish you every success. You should go for it, mate. Go on. Sign for them. It would be a big mistake not to. You will, won't you? Promise me you will. Go on. Please.'
Sadly, I wasn't as convincing as I'd hoped, and Diao never made the magical move to Goodison.
But even he wasn't the worst arrival of this hideous summer. Houllier also signed Bruno Cheyrou, which left me scratching my head for months. Yet again, Liverpool signed a central midfielder who didn't have the athleticism, strength or quality to play in this position in English football. He would end up on the flanks, where he lacked the pace to make an impact. Of all the signings, Cheyrou baffled me most. And the more Houllier tried to talk him up in the press, the more embarrassing it became.
Cheyrou and Diao were perfectly decent lads around the training ground, and I felt sorry for them as they struggled on. The issue I had was they should never have been signed, and that was the manager's fault.
I started to compare Houllier's record in the transfer market to Wenger's, and it became clear the Arsenal manager had much more success, particularly with French players. Houllier paid £10 million for Emile Heskey when Wenger paid the same for Thierry Henry. While Liverpool were dividing Merseyside to snatch Nick Barmby from Everton for £6 million, Robert Pires was arriving at Arsenal for the same money. Liverpool paid £500,000 for Djimi Traore while Wenger spent half a million on Kolo Toure. Had our scout reports been mixed up?
An impressive opening to the 2002–03 season papered over the cracks. Our purchases had weakened not strengthened us. After nine wins and three draws we were on the verge of beating a Premier League record. All we had to do when we travelled to Middlesbrough for our thirteenth game of the season was avoid defeat and we'd be rewriting a small piece of history. I should have been thinking we were at the start of a title-winning campaign. Instead, I was more convinced than ever the downward slide was beginning.
Houllier's team at the Riverside demonstrated how much he was losing sight of the main objective. For the first time in years, Danny Murphy was asked to play in 'the hole' behind the striker in a negative 4–4–1–1 formation. We didn't have a shot all match, and lost to a late Gareth Southgate goal. Had we drawn 0–0 I'd have been livid, but I'm convinced Houllier would have been celebrating the Premiership record. That mattered to him more than the three points.
We were still capable of turning over the top sides on our day, but consistency eluded us. The 2003 League Cup Final, when we outplayed Manchester United to win our fourth major trophy under Houllier, proved a temporary stay of execution. It probably bought the manager an extra season, which in retrospect was a mistake. Our League form was dismal, and even lesser European sides were beating us in the Champions League and UEFA Cup. This was accompanied by an increasingly worrying proneness to denial by the manager, who refused to appreciate the seriousness of our slide. 'Why has Houllier started to talk so much shite?' Liverpool fans began to ask me after each press conference. After once believing everything he said, privately even I couldn't defend him now.
The illness was the biggest factor in Houllier's demise, but he also reached a stage where he became curiously obsessed with the team's press coverage. I once caught Houllier sitting with a pad and paper trying to name a team of eleven ex-Liverpool players working in the media.
'Can you think of any I've left out, Carra?' he asked me.
I walked away, thinking there were far more important issues to grapple with than what the papers and former players were saying. After several years during which every decision was vind
icated, Houllier felt untouchable, so he dealt badly with media criticism. Unfortunately for him, the Liverpool fans would not be fooled. They watched wretched performances and felt even worse when they heard interviews talking about shots on goal or the number of corners the team had won. We were all sick of being told bad signings who were clearly never going to improve would eventually come good if the fans were patient. As for trying to convince everyone Igor Biscan was a centre-back . . . The supporters didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
By the time I returned to the line-up after my broken leg, the nails weren't yet in the coffin of the Houllier reign, but the undertaker was on standby. The team gatherings which had been so enthralling were now tiresome and repetitive. He'd call a summit the day before a game, another in the team hotel on the eve of the match, a third instantly after we'd played, and then a fourth at the training ground a day later. A psychologist was even appointed to change our dipping fortunes.
Carra: My Autobiography Page 15