Gerrard: My Autobiography (51 page)

Chelsea’s players were good in defeat. JT grabbed me. ‘Go and win it again,’ he said. That’s John Terry the man for you. A class guy. Frank shook my hand. So did Jose. Mourinho’s impressive like that. Whatever the result between us, whether I have beaten him or he has won, Jose always comes across, shakes my hand and says, ‘Well done.’ I admire Mourinho for that. Everyone talks about the rivalry between Liverpool and Chelsea, between Rafa and Jose, between the fans. I feel the tension rippling between Anfield and Stamford Bridge. Liverpool have had the upper hand on Chelsea in Europe, but they have dominated us in the Premiership. But only one emotion guides my view of Chelsea: respect. Between the players, a mutual respect exists. When I talk to JT, Lamps or Joe Cole at England, they always say the same thing: ‘Anfield is a nightmare to play at.’ I tell them, ‘Stamford Bridge is really tough for us.’ Under Mourinho, Chelsea have become a formidable team. It seems to me that if Liverpool are to win a cup, we have to knock Chelsea out on the way. That shows how good Jose and his team are. It’s the same in the Premiership. For Manchester United to finish as champions they had to deal with Chelsea’s unbelievable threat.

One area where Chelsea and United cannot touch Liverpool is in the amazing noise generated by our fans. I’m not worried that the new stadium planned in Stanley Park will lose that atmosphere. No chance. It’s the people
who make the atmosphere, and those supporters will never disappear. When I warm up, I watch and listen to the fans. I love their passion, their will to win – qualities you see in Liverpool’s home-grown players. I know how much Liverpool means to the fans. Before and after games, I receive text messages from family and friends, all mad about Liverpool. I read the letters in the local papers. The fans’ obsession with Liverpool is deep and unending. If the new stadium is built right, the atmosphere will lift to an even higher level. The noise and intensity will be unbelievable. It has been delayed an extra year because the club want to build a Kop, recreating the best parts of Anfield. If Liverpool do have a Kop, with more people in, the atmosphere on big Champions League and Premiership occasions will be out of this world.

Liverpool’s new American owners, Tom Hicks and George Gillett, are doing things the right way. They are classy guys, with sharp business minds. I spoke to some rival bidders, the Arab people, who were nice, but it was only a ten-minute chat. Liverpool’s board then met Hicks and Gillett and decided to go down that route. The first time I encountered the Americans, I was bowled over by the enthusiasm pouring from the pair of them. Hicks and Gillett are winners. I saw the ambition in their eyes, heard it in their words. They told me and Carra about what they’d achieved in other sports. I sat there, listening and thinking to myself, ‘If we can channel all that energy and good ideas into the football side, we’ll really take off.’ The Americans’ passion for their new adventure is obvious. Hicks and Gillett are always popping into Melwood, saying ‘hi’ and chatting to the players. Top guys. They
move quickly, too. When a new contract was mentioned, the Americans were superb, Rick was sharp, Rafa wanted it done, I wanted it done. My adviser Struan had a couple of meetings and it was a done deal. Simple. I admired Hicks and Gillett for that.

When Carra and I talked to Liverpool’s new owners, we had one important request: ‘Please keep David Moores involved.’ He will always be chairman in my eyes. Always. He’s a Liverpool fan, and a good friend of mine. He even invited me to a ball at his house recently. David Moores has a great relationship with the players and everyone at Anfield. Thankfully, that bond will continue strong. Hicks and Gillett told me and Carra how much they wanted Mr Moores to stay around. They know what a fantastic job he has done for the club. They realize that he is a committed fan who wears his heart on his sleeve. For me, David Moores will always be the main man upstairs. The Americans understand that.

When Chelsea visited on that memorable European night, the Americans were spell-bound by the Anfield atmosphere. They came into the dressing-room afterwards, clutching bottles of champagne. As Hicks and Gillett stood there in the middle of the room, shaking hands and congratulating us, I saw mischievous looks leap into my team-mates’ eyes. I knew what the lads were thinking. Our new owners deserved a celebratory dip in the bath.

‘Come on,’ someone whispered to me, ‘let’s throw them in.’

I stole a glance at Hicks and Gillett. They were just standing there, toasting us, laughing, oblivious to any
possible ambush. It didn’t seem right to bundle them into the bath. They’d only just arrived at the club. The lads decided to let the Americans off on their first visit to the dressing-room. Next time, though, both are going in the bath. No ifs, no buts, no mercy. Straight in.

When the party finished on Merseyside that night, our thoughts turned to Athens, to another final. Again our opponents were AC Milan, but contrasts with Istanbul soon surfaced. The organization of the European Cup final in Turkey had been excellent, but things weren’t right on the trip to Greece. I’m no whinger, but Liverpool’s hotel wasn’t up to scratch. Rafa wasn’t happy, and neither were the players. The bedrooms were nowhere near good enough: tiny single beds and a room so small that I could sit on the toilet and have a shower at the same time. It might have been funny if the situation had not been so serious. For a Champions League final, when you know people have gone over to inspect facilities in advance, it was disappointing. While preparing for such a massive event, I didn’t want to be distracted by switching rooms, hauling my gear down corridors, and trying to get the air-con to work. It was like Rafa said: the small details must be right. So much is at stake: glory, pride, money, reputations. Everything had been spot-on in Istanbul, but we were let down in Athens. Even the flight home was all wrong, with little leg-room, knees crammed in. Liverpool should travel on bigger planes, where players can move around, stretch our legs. I was disappointed with the whole set-up.

That was frustrating because Liverpool’s tactical preparations were perfect. As against Barcelona at the Nou
Camp, Rafa came up with the right game-plan in Athens. We all knew Milan’s strengths, the class they had in midfield, so Rafa went 4–5–1 to nullify the Italians’ threat. Although Milan set up 4–4–2, their shape quickly became 4–3–2–1 with Gattuso coming into the centre alongside Pirlo and Ambrosini while the full-backs, Massimo Oddo and Marek Jankulovski, bombed on. We swamped the middle. Javier Mascherano got tight on Kaka, doing a really good job and keeping him quiet. The threat is always there with Kaka. Always. When he receives the ball, you must have two men around him. And that gives Milan space in other areas.

Liverpool still controlled the final, without really creating. Many of our best moments in the first half flowed from Jermaine Pennant out on the right. He got in one great cross that I just failed to convert. Jermaine finished the season strongly, showing his terrific potential. At the moment, though, it’s just potential. Jermaine needs to deliver week in, week out, season in, season out. How well he does at Liverpool is up to Jermaine. No-one else. Not Rafa. Not the other players. Jermaine possesses every attribute to be a top winger for Liverpool. Touch and pace come naturally to him. Liverpool fans are warming to him because he is going past people and whipping crosses in. He has changed his mentality after getting a bit of criticism. Jermaine’s been a lot more focused and professional. Now it’s up to him. Jermaine Pennant can be as good as he wants to be. He can hit the heights or slide back. We’ll have to wait and see.

For all the efforts of Jermaine and the other players, we couldn’t break through. Milan took a flukey lead on the
edge of half-time, the ball catching Filippo Inzaghi and sending Pepe the wrong way. How unlucky was that? I couldn’t believe it. In the second half, I expected some subs sharpish. We were trailing 1–0 and failing to create real chances. I trust Rafa. The manager clearly had belief in the players who were on, but I was surprised Crouchy didn’t come on a bit earlier. Not just Crouchy, any sub. We needed something different.

I partly blame myself. Early in the second half, I missed a chance which I’m still gutted about. Cutting in from the left, and through on Dida, only one thought hammered through my mind: don’t waste the opportunity. Few chances had come to us, so I didn’t want to shoot with my left foot and regret it. I must use my right, my stronger foot. So I opened up my body to try to pass the ball around Dida with my right. Sadly, I never made a good enough connection. Dida saved. Maybe I should have gone with my left.

When Inzaghi added another, I felt the spirit of Istanbul desert us for good, even when Dirk Kuyt made it 2–1 a minute before the end. The final whistle blew through me like a vicious wind. Frustration ate away at me because Milan were there for the taking. They were. We should have beaten them. I looked around at my devastated Liverpool team-mates, and at our wonderful fans who sang to the end and beyond, and my heart broke in two. Even now, recalling events in Athens, my mind is numb with grief. The pain remains.

Even amid my heartache at the final whistle, I knew I had to show dignity in defeat. A lot was made in the build-up to the final about my criticism of Gattuso in
Istanbul, and I didn’t want anyone to feel I disrespect opponents. That’s not in my nature. I milk it when I win, but I want people to appreciate that I take defeat well. I saw Gattuso and stretched out a hand.

‘Congratulations,’ I said.

He was good. No gloating. Just a few kind words. ‘Thanks very much. You were unlucky.’

I nodded, and moved away.

However much losing kills me, I always honour the victors. I hate people who go off celebrating and ignore the beaten team. Show some class. Better footballers than me do it, so why shouldn’t I? One good thing coming into football now is that most players are starting to take defeat on the chin and not be bad losers. That’s good for the game.

Having congratulated Gattuso, Paolo Maldini and the rest of the Milan team, I retreated to the dressing-room. God, it was grim in there. The players were shattered, emotionally and physically. I had to behave as a captain, not as a heartbroken player. ‘Listen, lads, we did OK,’ I told my grieving team-mates. ‘We gave a good account of ourselves. We have not been blown away.’ I meant it. In 2005, Liverpool got blown away by Milan in Istanbul. Completely. Although we came back and won on the night, there was only one good team in Istanbul, and it was not Liverpool. ‘We can be proud of ourselves,’ I told the players in Athens. ‘Don’t be down and disheartened. Look to the future. Are we moving forward or at a standstill? We all know this team is moving forward.’

I believe Liverpool are heading in the right direction. I’ve definitely got another European Cup final in me.
Absolutely no question about it. I will be desperately disappointed if I don’t win it again. I have to. There’s a huge difference between owning one European Cup winners’ medal and two. Many players possess one; few have two. My failure to collect another European Cup medal in Athens is a hurt I must live with – until I win it again. Maybe I’m just being greedy. When I was a young lad knocking about on Ironside, if someone had said, ‘You’ll play in two European Cup finals, winning one and losing the other – do you fancy it?’ my reaction would have been to shake their hand so strongly it would have fallen off. Putting all the agony of Athens to one side for a moment, the reality is that Liverpool reached two finals in three years, which is terrific. When our unspectacular domestic form is taken into account, we have been punching above our weight. In truth, Liverpool are still quite a few players away from getting involved in the Premiership race, and continuing to do well in Europe. The future looks bright for the club, though: we’ve got a good team, an outstanding manager in Rafa, a new stadium being designed, and brilliant new owners. If the Americans hand Rafa the financial backing to strengthen a good team, we can become a great team. Then we can erase the memory of Athens.

Athens left a bad taste in the mouth. The moment I turned my mobile back on, calls and texts came thudding through from family and friends who were at the Olympic Stadium and were horrified by the behaviour of the Greek police. What I heard shocked me. My family and friends were caught up in minor incidents trying to get into the stadium; they were pushed, shoved and tear-gassed. What
the hell happened? This was the European Cup final, the pinnacle of club football. Organization should have been miles better. OK, a minority of fans let themselves down, but they might not even have been genuine Liverpool fans. For all I know, they could have been people jumping on the bandwagon pretending to be Liverpool fans, pulling any stunt to get into the European Cup final. I find it hard to believe any real Liverpool fan would snatch a ticket off another Liverpool fan. I have travelled around Europe for years, and our supporters’ behaviour has always been spot-on.

The blame game soon began. For me, the people who should look at themselves most closely are the organizers. The Olympic Stadium in Athens was too small and too poorly prepared for clubs the size of Liverpool and Milan. Just think. Champions League finals are only going to be contested by two massive clubs, so why not stage the final in bigger stadiums? If Liverpool had played Manchester United in Athens – which was a possibility until United lost to Milan – I would have been really concerned for both sets of fans. There would have been a bloodbath. UEFA must sit down and discuss the issue of the right venue. A showpiece game such as the European Cup final must be in a larger arena than Athens, with fairer and bigger ticket allocations, proper turnstiles, and double the security.

Frustration became a constant companion for a while. Seeing Steve Heighway leave his post as Liverpool Academy director was particularly disappointing. It still upsets me. If anyone comes in and does a better job, I will be surprised. Watch this space. It won’t happen. Steve is
impossible to replace. Liverpool can search this country, or any other country, and they will struggle to find anyone good enough to fill Steve Heighway’s boots. No-one works better with kids from eight to eighteen. No-one. I will put my life on that. Steve cares for his players, and he’s a top judge of a player as well. When I was ten, he looked my parents in the eye and said, ‘Your lad will play for Liverpool’s first team, if looked after properly.’ When Michael Owen was thirteen, Steve told me, ‘Michael will get in Liverpool’s first team.’ Of course, I am biased towards Steve because he helped me. But I just can’t understand why he has gone. Over the years he had a bit of criticism, people saying that Liverpool have hardly had any young players coming through since me. But hold on. Tell me which clubs are developing players. All the top sides spend big money on them. Manchester United’s best young player is Wayne Rooney, and they spent £27 million on him. Chelsea are buying kids for £5 million. Liverpool Football Club, and me personally, will miss Steve Heighway.