You'll be jealous of this story then..... On a particularly drunk and exciting night out a few years ago (c.2006/7) I ended up being driven round town by Xabi Alonso then wore one of his shirts and ate pizza with him. Earlier in the evening we had been chatting to and having a drink with a group of Spanish lads who had taken a fancy to some of the girls we were with, the next thing I knew Xabi Alonso had turned up and it became apparent that the Spanish lads were mates of his from San Sebastian. After thanking him for Istanbul and generally being brilliant we went our separate ways and carried on with our respective nights out. Stumbling up Hardman Street in the early hours we were called over to the Hardman Pizza Co. by the group of equally drunk Spanish lads who we had met earlier, although Xabi wasn't with them. They invited us to a party they were having in their hotel and loaded us and several boxes of pizza into the back of a waiting Porsche Cayenne. Nestled in the back middle seat of the overcrowded car I soon realised Xabi Alonso was driving, nearly creamed myself and decided to spend the journey leaning forward into the front of the car as much as I could and watched Xabi Alonso control his car as well as he could any football match. On our journey to the salubrious Liner Hotel near Lime Street he took a wrong turn down a one way street and we ended going down it the wrong way, after pointing this illegal manouvre out his friend in the passenger seat simply said, "this is Xabi Alonso, he can do this" Xabi gave a reassuring nod before finally arriving at the Liner, with everyone bailing out taking pizza into the hotel. I sat there dumbstruck with my mate Laura in the back of the car trying to take the situation in. As it's not everyday you find yourself sat in your footballing hero's car I thought I'd take the opportunity to lean behind and have a rummage on the back shelf and in the boot. Finding a pile of match worn Alonso Liverpool shirts in the boot I decided to put one on, got out the car and starting doing a strange dance of celebration in the middle of the road. The shirt was signed, presumably to one of the Spanish lads who raced over and took it off me, with the message "to [whatever name it was], remember Kenny Dalglish is a legend, Xabi Alonso". Forgiving of the minor indiscretion with the shirt I was welcomed into the hotel where the pizza had been cracked open and we sat down scranning on the pizza and talking about Istanbul, San Sebastian, music, Kenny Dalglish and various other topics. I left on a high and it remains one of the most unusual drunken encounters with a footballer I have had.