Fixing a roadside wheel on the 3-lane motorway leading into Istanbul was no fun. It was no fun at all.
The puncture was just the latest incident in the long, long journey to Istanbul from Sozopol via Sunny Beach Bulgaria and what a journey it was! Little did we know that at the end of all our trials and tribulations, we would be returning on this same road having made excellent friends and seen our team crowned European Champions! But what a journey it was, both inside and outside the Ataturk Stadium!
Ahh, sunny Sozopol, nestling in an attractive cove on steep, dramatic rocks above the tranquil, lapping waters of the Black Sea. We’d booked this place as it was a short ride from Bourgas airport and michelin.com told us it was then a mere 4 hour drive to Istanbul. At approximately one quarter to one third of the silly prices quoted for Istanbul itself, we could also chuck in a few days' sunbathing as well. What could be better?
Well, Sozopol is a tip! The hotel was awful and the resort was a building site but we didn’t know this for a few days after we’d got there. We dumped our stuff in the room and after a quick bite to eat and a beer, we jumped in a cab and rode for well over an hour to Sunny Beach where we met up with a terrific bunch of people in their hotel. By we, I mean my son Liam and myself and this was as much treat for him as it was a dream come true; his first ever European Cup Final! I felt it was just reward for the sometimes awful football and shambolic teams and performances he’d had to put up with for many years. I’d seen us become European and English champions many times and I at lest had that to sustain me, but he didn’t have those memories. Here at last, his team were about to play in the continent’s most prestigious cup final and no power on earth was going to keep us away from it.
So much for a 4 hour trip! Our driver, Zhivko, spoke no English and had never been to Istanbul before. Within a couple of hours, we all wanted to strangle him. First of all he demanded the full amount of money up front when we wanted to keep at least some back to ensure he would still be around to bring us back the following day. He would not budge on this and it cost us a good hour before we gave in to him. Then, as we get to the border crossing, he decides he needs diesel and so we had to return 10 kilometres along the road we’d already been down! We watched in disbelief as dozens of other Liverpool fans’ cars and coaches went ahead of us in the increasingly long queue at the ridiculously long border crossing. We got more and more annoyed with him but as the day wore on, he showed himself to be a star and we all warmed to him. The day would end in an incredible, scarcely believable way for him.
We’d arranged to meet other people in Taksim Square which we thought we’d reach at about midday. Some chance! We eventually got to our Istanbul hotels at about 4.30PM to be informed by the manager we’d need to set off to the ground right away as TV pictures showed an increasingly long, nightmare journey to the stadium itself. So, with no food inside us, we had to get back on the bus and start the long, slow ride to the Ataturk. This was everything you’ve read; a long snake of cars, taxis, coaches, mini-buses, bikes, trikes and lads called Mike and any and all manner of transport. We could see the stadium in all its splendid isolation miles in the distance and never getting closer. Fortunately, to entertain us, thousands of Istanbullers had lined the streets in front of their homes and flats on the long, climbing hill to the ground itself. They were 95% supportive of Liverpool with some favouring Milan. It was like doing a big city marathon with crowds of well-wishers cheering you on.
Anyway, all good things (!) must come to an end and eventually we reached the stadium. We arrived just in time to relieve our advance party who’d gone ahead to the ground earlier to sort tickets out. We quickly discovered they’d had no food or drink at the badly-serviced stadium for hours. Our bags of beer and food rations were a welcome sight. As we all had tickets, we called Zhivko off the bus and handed him the precious spare ticket we had. His face beamed when he realised what we were offering him. To see the European Cup Final! His face was a picture.
Me and our Liam had been sorted out with tickets from well-known forumite, Sutty, to whom I am eternally grateful and when we got in the ground itself, Sutty was sat a few seats away together with Mick, or Swan Red as he’s known in these parts.
With building excitement, we watched the pre-game stuff and then it was time for the gladiators to enter the arena! What a moment that was: to see the last two teams standing as they marched out to the noise and spectacle behind the trophy that the winners would walk away with was an emotional sight. And talking of spectacles, what about our fans? It hardly needs saying, they really made me proud! They were and are quite simply fantastic. I cannot think of many teams anywhere in the world who’d have taken this number of incredible fanatics all the way to Istanbul. I’ve been fortunate enough to see Liverpool in many cup finals and semis and I seriously think the fans are getting better with more inspiring, witty and imaginative banners than ever before. The curve to our left was a mass of red and naturally all the noise was coming from that end as well. But not for long! After 50 seconds and that goal, my heart sank. Surely we hadn’t been so excited and spent all that money only for it to be over in less than one minute? No, that could not be allowed to happen and we cranked up the noise even more than previously. Then Sami went close with a header and the first half or the European Cup Final became progressively worse for every Liverpudlian. Firstly, the pea-hearted Kewell limped off, then we were denied what looked a blatant penalty and Milan went up the other end and scored. Then they scored again and of course they’d had a disallowed goal as well. We looked to be on the receiving end of a major embarrassment. I could see and hear the mocking of the Blues and the Mancs back home as they lapped up our misfortune.
As the half progressed, the noise from our 30-odd-thousand diminished and the joy to our right was cranked up as the Italians celebrated what would be their night. But if that was what was going to happen, we were not going down without a fight, not in our stand anyway! The half-time rendition of YNWA brought a tear to the eye but surely it was a defiant gesture? A last stand before the onrushing white tide swept Liverpool aside?
Well when Gerrard’s goal went in, our stand erupted; at least we’ve got one back and we no longer looked vulnerable since Didi had started to get the better of Kaka. Who knows, if we get anoth… wait a minute! Vladi’s shot for me was the moment of the match. Had it not gone in, or gone in towards the end, maybe we wouldn’t have had the nerve to believe. But now, well now we could believe! I looked behind me for the idiot who’d screamed, “Get that shirt off, Šmicer. Yer not fit to wear it!”, but he was leaping up and down on people! Where we were, people were piling down three and four rows of seats to hug and kiss complete strangers. It was an amazing feeling to know that where we had been dead and buried, we were now right back on track. When Steven Gerrard was brought down, pandemonium exploded! I was almost sick with shrieking! There was a moment of anxiety as the lad behind said they hadn’t given it and then when the keeper got a hand to it…but no, wait, Alonso follows up and we saw the net bulge! We’d done it! We’d come back from a mauling to get level with the mighty AC Milan! The scenes now eclipsed the scenes after Owen had scored his second at Cardiff in the Cup Final. I didn’t think many would have much left after the early starts and the energy expended all round Istanbul in the hours before the game but a collective second wind had come to us all. I’ve never experienced such a collective joy before. People were shouting and screaming with total delight. Everyone in that stand was my best mate. I hugged total strangers, lifting them off their feet in huge, happy bear hugs. I remembered to look at my pulse monitor. My normal pulse is 45 but it hadn’t fallen below 90 that night, but now it was 160! That’s sprinting levels and it had all come from delirium! The noise now from all around was incredible, all the more so given the structure of the stadium. We could create an atmosphere on the moon, us lot. I felt an overwhelming pride for those heroes on the pitch and you could tell they felt the same for us, the fans who had driven them on, urged them to defy the odds and stand up and give their all. Like I say, I’ve seen us win some things but this surpassed everything I’d previously experienced.
It still wasn’t over though but we looked to be on top now. Milan cleverly played their way back in and I have never in my life looked more frequently at a clock as I did that night. Every few seconds I would turn to my right to check how much more time had elapsed. I hate penalty shoot-outs but I would have given my left bollock if I’d been offered them at half time.
The Jamie Carragher incident and the Dudek save convinced me there was no way on earth we could now lose. These men are giants and once again, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride in the fact we have a Carragher in our team. If only we had ten more!
When Dudek saved from Shevchenko, I calmy and rationally said, “We’ve won the European Cup”. It probably wasn’t my imagination that the wild celebrations were a little bit muted as we’d all been on an incredibly long journey and we didn’t have as much to give as we might have had an hour before. To look around you was to experience total joy. Big, huge grinning faces with all trials and tribulations forgotten. A sense that whatever people had suffered to get here, this was infinitely worth while. Grown men unashamedly wept tears of joy and pride at what they’d seen. The realisation of what we’d done began to dawn and people were simply beaming with an immense delight at being alive.
It was just a long, deeply satisfying sense of pleasure watching the presentation and the cup being lifted aloft. It was a sensation of total contentment and joy. The inevitable long journey back to the city was forgotten as we drank in this moment to our heart’s content. What a team, what a game, what a manager, what a comeback, what a night! All our prayers answered, all our desires fulfilled. Which was nice.
To be honest, the trip back to the city was far less of a problem that the journey there. We didn’t get there until 4am so we’d been on the go for 24 hours but we demanded beer and food. After an aborted trip to Taksim Square, we found ourselves going up a small lane where there were tables and some contented fellow Liverpudlians. I saw that one of them was Dave (aka Anny Road) and gave him a big hug. He wondered who it was at first as the roughness of his unshaven face had caused a scouring of my fine film-star features! We were all sat beneath that huge Gladiator picture of Steven Gerrard, along with Pete Sampara (badge man) and a weird Turk smoking from a bubble pipe (or whatever you call them). We were listening to the first UB40 album which takes me back to that magical night and that magical setting whenever I hear it. An utterly fantastic and unforgettable 26 hours in my life which I don’t think will ever be bettered.
When we woke late the following day, the hotel manager was full of praise and his main compliment concerned the fact that the police were reporting there had been no trouble at all. We had seen from our coach, hundreds of troops all in riot gear with truncheons drawn and big chest plates, being stood down and marching back up the road from where they had been held in reserve. We waved and some waved back but some looked disappointed they hadn’t been able to go in! An American tourist overheard our conversation so I rubbed it in how good and well behaved Liverpool fans always are wherever we went and that I hoped we’d been good ambassadors for the city. The manager told me we were welcome back there any time we wanted to go! Which I thought summed up the event quite nicely.
