So when Rick suddenly began talking about Benitez in glowing terms, my eyes lit up. It became obvious the other candidates were red herrings and they'd already decided who they wanted. Benitez had spent time at David Moores' Spanish villa where Rick and the chairman were suitably convinced of his credentials during the course of a five-hour meeting. They'd been tracking him since Valencia had demolished us in Europe, and Rafa wanted to come. This was a done deal.
'He already knows a lot about Liverpool,' Rick explained. 'When he was talking about the squad he was asking me how Stephen Warnock was getting on.'
At that time Warnock was a reserve who'd been on loan at Coventry. It seemed Rafa had already done his homework in readiness for a move to Merseyside.
'Stephen Warnock?' I said, feeling relieved at the new man's knowledge. 'In that case he must know who I am.'
I began my own research into the new boss, trawling any old magazines that referred to Valencia. 'They call him God over there,' I read. 'Not the fans, but the players. Rafa thinks he knows everything.' That stuck in my mind.
Benitez's appointment became the worst-kept secret in Liverpool's history. They stopped taking bets in the city's bookmakers before the club finally confirmed the news to an unsurprised world a week before Euro 2004.
The fans took to the choice instantly, recalling as we all did the stylish way the Spanish champions had performed in our previous encounters. His team handsomely beat Marseille in the 2004 UEFA Cup Final, the side that had knocked us out of the competition. The viewing figures for that game on Merseyside must have hit a peak as anticipation grew.
Benitez's track record in Spain suggested he was perfect. He'd taken on the rich Spanish clubs by turning a team with potential into champions and European winners. Without the finances to compete in the transfer market, Benitez was now expected to upset Chelsea, Manchester United and Arsenal like he had Real Madrid and Barcelona. We wanted Liverpool to become the new Valencia, and Benitez was confident he could repeat his La Liga success without splashing millions.
That was the criterion on which he was given the job.
Liverpool's financial problems were well documented. The club was pursuing a new stadium, and no manager was going to come to Anfield expecting to make a series of record signings. He would have to be adept at getting the best out of what he had. To outsiders we appeared to be a promising squad that wasn't fulfilling its potential. With improved coaching, decent players would become good ones and the world-class ones would sustain a title challenge.
Unfortunately, whatever the brochure looked like when Rick and the chairman convinced Benitez to accept the Liverpool position, he must have thought the landscape less glamorous once he arrived. The economic muscle of Chelsea was now even greater than Real Madrid or Barca, while Manchester United had built a formidable side over twenty years under Ferguson, and Arsenal had just gone a season unbeaten. Winning the Premier League with Liverpool was not comparable to winning the title with Valencia. Benitez may initially have believed he could repeat his trick by reorganizing our existing squad and adding a few new faces, but it wasn't long before he was singing a different tune. What should have been a summer honeymoon, raising expectations and building a vibrant squad, descended into a messy introduction.
The first crisis involved the skipper.
I knew Stevie was seriously considering his future when we met Rafa in Portugal, and nothing had been said or done to erase those nagging doubts. The rumours about Chelsea had begun when Claudio Ranieri was still the manager. Tentative moves to tempt Stevie to London were made in the summer of 2003. Roman Abramovich's takeover had led to constant speculation about £30 million bids. By the time of Euro 2004, tabloid gossip had proved a reality. Stevie was away from home hearing different voices every day (some undoubtedly with a cockney accent), many of them telling him his career would progress more at Stamford Bridge. All the indications pointed to another prolonged period of rebuilding at Anfield. Liverpool were at a junction, and so too was Stevie's career.
The decision he had to make was this: could he afford to be patient and follow the signposts telling him to wait a couple more years for a realistic title and Champions League challenge, or should he follow the course towards Mourinho's promise of instant success as part of the most expensive squad in the world?
Stevie's mind was being tugged in the direction of Stamford Bridge, but on the few occasions I had a chance to speak to him in the England hotel I urged him not to succumb to the temptation. I wasn't as close to Stevie then as I am now so I never felt in a position to pry too much into his state of mind, or persistently tell him what he should do. All I could do was appeal to the Liverpool fan in him to give Benitez at least one chance. I wanted his heart to rule his head. If there were no signs of improvement within a year, there was still time for him to move on. The summer of 2004 wasn't the right time for him to walk out of Anfield. But I never imposed my view or put pressure on him because, ultimately, he had to make the decision for himself. By the end of the tournament, like every Liverpool fan, I was resigned to his departure.
It was a depressing thought, losing our best player to Chelsea. It was crucial Benitez built a side around the captain rather than being forced to use funds from his sale to bring in replacements who could never be as good. I spent hours trying to think who we could sign and how the team could be restructured in his absence. It was a nightmare. We'd have needed three or four class players to compensate for his loss, and it would have sent out the wrong message to the football world. No matter how much we'd have received, people would have begun to see Liverpool as a club whose local stars could be lured away.
It's true no one is bigger than any football club, but in the context of our position, Stevie was far more than just another player. He was a symbol of the club, a Liverpool lad who'd come through the ranks whom the fans saw as living their dream. Had he gone, it would have been the first time in our history a Liverpool captain had taken the decision to join one of our rivals. We'd have struggled to come to terms with that.
A day after our return to England I received a phone call from Michael Owen informing me a press conference had been called at Anfield to announce Stevie was staying. I switched on Sky as bemused as everyone else by the U-turn. The opportunity to discuss the situation with his family and friends had brought sanity to the proceedings. Whatever was said, it seemed a weight had been lifted from Stevie's mind on his return to Liverpool.
It felt like we'd made a new signing.
'U av made the right decision,' I texted the skipper.
Regardless of how our season went, I knew he had. The supporters would never have forgiven Stevie for leaving Liverpool then. Whether this was a permanent or temporary calming of the waters would become increasingly apparent as the season progressed. With Gerrard committed for at least one more year, the fans felt a catastrophe had been averted.
Rafa took a more pragmatic view and was prepared to accept whatever circumstances were thrust upon him. While many at Anfield were in a state of panic at the prospect of losing our best player, Benitez showed himself to be a manager who'd take everything in his stride. 'Whether Gerrard stays or goes, we'll move on,' was his message. His reaction to Stevie staying was no different to that when he thought he was going.
Once the crisis was resolved, there was no respite. The storm clouds were arriving from another direction once pre-season training got underway. My relief at Steven's decision to stay was undermined when Michael told me he was leaving.
This revelation arrived during our summer tour to America, where we played a couple of games in New York. There may already have been doubts in Michael's mind over how highly Benitez rated him, as the different styles of the new manager and Houllier were instantly apparent. In what turned out to be his last match for the club, Michael played the first half of a 5–0 win against Celtic, scoring a goal and creating another. As he was getting changed having been subbed, any hope of a word of congratulation was short-lived.
He was tapped on the shoulder and told, 'You have to learn how to turn more quickly when you have the ball with your back to goal.'
I glanced at Michael, saw the look of astonishment on his face, and started laughing. First Stevie ran around too much, now Michael wasn't turning sharply enough. I'd not heard a manager speak to Michael like that for years. This was a player who was used to compliments, but it was going to take more than a decent half in a friendly to impress the new manager.
'This is what it's going to be like from now on,' I told Michael. 'This fella isn't going to be telling anyone how great he thinks we are.'
There was no suggestion Michael was going anywhere at that stage, but within forty-eight hours of his first brush with the new boss he was wrestling with the same dilemma Stevie had faced. I was sharing a room with Michael when he received the call that led to his departure from Liverpool.
'Real Madrid want me,' he told me. 'I fancy it.'
Benitez maintains the deal had been planned before he arrived, but that isn't true. It was a bombshell when the call came. I could see that in Michael's reaction to the news.
My advice to Michael was not to go. I saw Ronaldo and Raúl as the star players and no prospect of Michael breaking that up, no matter how good he was. At the Bernabeu, the coach doesn't pick the team, the club's politicians do.
'It was the same when I broke into the Liverpool side,' Mo argued. 'I had to get past Robbie Fowler and Stan Collymore.'
The difference, I maintained, was we didn't have a club president insisting Robbie and Collymore start every game.
Michael couldn't be persuaded. His self-belief is greater than any player I've known. He was sure he'd force himself into the side. On the basis of his goals ratio in Spain, he was right. He did earn a run in the team. Unfortunately for him, I was right too. The overall number of games he actually started proved form wasn't the criterion for selection.
I was disappointed Michael left because he was my best mate. To see someone I'd risen through the ranks with move on saddened me on a personal as much as professional level. It was a sign of how far we were drifting. There was once a time when our star players were untouchable. No one would bother trying to sign them because they'd have no chance of luring them away. As our run without title or Champions League success continued, so our reputation was being eroded. Our two best players could have left within weeks of each other. It had nothing to do with the new manager, it was more a consequence of years of moderate success catching up with us. It was a depressing, disturbing time.
Our fans were less forgiving of Michael's decision than I. They thought he'd confirmed lingering suspicions on The Kop he wasn't really 'one of them'. I saw Michael's situation as different to Stevie's. Stevie would have years to decide his future. I knew Chelsea and the European giants wouldn't give up on signing him. In comparison, this wasn't just Michael's first opportunity to join Real Madrid, it was probably his last.
Many ignore the context in which he made up his mind. We were facing more years of transition as Benitez implemented new ideas and he wasn't sure how highly thought of he was by the boss. From the moment he made his debut at seventeen, Michael made no secret of a long-term ambition to play abroad. He'd endured a lot of niggling injuries, his final year under Houllier had been a struggle, and Euro 2004 wasn't great by his standards. Wayne Rooney had burst on to the scene and become the England striker most linked with big-money moves. Michael feared the window of opportunity to seek a fresh challenge was closing. Given his contract situation at Anfield, it was now or never. He only had a year left at Liverpool, so he had to sign on for another four years and effectively stay for life, or break his ties.
I knew he was unsure about the direction of the club and was keeping his options open amid interest from others during Houllier's last season. It was understandable given our limited title chances, but fans will never accept that a Liverpool player may want to leave for professional reasons. They cling on to the far-fetched notion that their favourite players wouldn't even think of playing anywhere else. They became wary of Michael's and Stevie's refusal to say outright they'd stay, even though both were right to be careful not to make promises they may not have been able to keep.
The timing didn't help either: Michael signed for Madrid the day before our opening Premier League match with Tottenham.
'If Real Madrid came in for me, it would even turn my head,' I told the press on the eve of the match, trying to defend my mate's decision. I was helping a friend. I've never had any ambition to play abroad. I love home too much.
As a mate I wished Mo well, but the circumstances left us struggling in attack for the rest of the season. The £8 million fee, which reflected the limited time left on Michael's deal, was nowhere near what it should have been for a player of his class. We were also given Antonio Nunez in part exchange. He suffered a knee ligament injury on his first day's training and wasn't up to scratch even when he was fit. Rafa had reacted to Michael's decision the same way as to the captain's – no fuss, just a matter-of-fact response to changing circumstances – but from his and Liverpool's perspective, this was a lousy piece of business.
While Michael was criticized in some quarters for taking a decision that was right for him, another friend was earning even less sympathy for suffering from the ruthlessness of football.
Danny Murphy had been one of our most effective players during the final years of Houllier's reign, but on the day we returned from America he was pulled to one side by Benitez and told he could leave. Charlton made a £2.5 million bid which was instantly accepted. Danny was devastated, and the speed with which the transfer went through shocked me. I thought it was a mistake to allow Danny to go, and the way our League season progressed proved it.
These deals, within twenty-four hours of each other, exposed the hypocrisy of some of the criticism Michael received. When a player has the power to decide his own future and opts to leave, he's accused of disloyalty, but all of us are vulnerable at any given time to the possibility of a manager calling you in and revealing you're up for sale. Outside the dressing room there was precious little compassion around for Danny when he was shown the door, even though he was Liverpool through and through. Michael benefited from his circumstances, Danny suffered because of his. That's the business we're in.
Those early deals weakened the squad rather than strengthened it, although some of the recruits were beyond Benitez's control. Liverpool made a strange decision to press ahead with Cisse's move from Auxerre. He was a Houllier signing and Benitez didn't want him. It was too late to scrap it, and there was a belief Cisse would be so good, any manager would be happy to have him. The reports I'd heard described Cisse as a cross between Emile Heskey and Michael Owen. He was supposed to be a strong, physical target man who scored goals. He was neither one nor the other. Djibril was exactly the same as Milan Baros: inconsistent, likely to impress in one game but disappoint in the next.
Even had Michael stayed, the choice of striking options would have been limited. Michael wouldn't have formed a partnership with Cisse. It was evident even before Mo left that we were in trouble in terms of the balance of our squad. Rafa would have loved to bring Heskey back because he'd been left without a target man – a problem he'd have to wait twelve months to remedy. The fans had been happy to see Emile go at the end of the previous season, but now we were crying out for a replacement.
Of Benitez's early signings, only Xabi Alonso immediately impressed me. He was a world-class midfielder whose passing added guile alongside Gerrard, which we'd been lacking. Elsewhere, Garcia sometimes couldn't cope with the demands of English football. His contribution would sum up Benitez's first season: fantastic in Europe, but infuriatingly inconsistent in the League.
Luis and I had a love-hate relationship on the park, just like he had with the fans. I'd always be shouting at him for losing the ball with one of his backheels or flicks, but then he'd volley one in from thirty yards (as he did against Juventus) and it was like all the in
discretions of the previous eight months could be forgiven. When I think of him now, I remember a player who contributed as much as any to winning my Champions League medal.
Josemi, Benitez's first signing, worried me. After swiftly deciding to persist with me as a centre-half, Rafa bought the right-back instead.
Carra: My Autobiography Page 23