Dead and buried at half time, shown up on the biggest stage for what they were.
I am ashamed to say I walked away. Down dark streets heading back to the river. Walk on with hope in your hearts? Not me. And then out of the darkness there was a muffled roar, a rumble of thunder and the faintest stirring of hope. An open doorway, the wide eyed crowd, a struggle to believe, and then two more goals. Utter delerium. From that point it was destiny, a miracle, a myth in the writing. Even when the greatest goalscorer in the world was faced with an open goal we were not about to lose.
The greatest comeback in the greatest cup final in the greatest club competition in the world.
Twenty one years in the making, almost my whole waking life. If it sounds trite to say it has been a deeply spiritual experience you don’t understand the metaphor for life that football is. Does this story remind you of anything? Victory out of dispair, against all odds, I stood in the heart of Liverpool with 1 million reds who all played their part and sang songs of victory and wonder.