Best, 26th May 2005.
For me the homecoming overshadowed the actual night of winning our 5th European Cup because I could actually enjoy every single second of it. The final, I don't know how much I did enjoy. Getting it back to three all, the thought of losing it after that graft was too much for me to enjoy the game. Extra time and penalties are never enjoyable experiences. It's the aftermath that's enjoyable, when you know what's happened. Rewatching that famous night in Istanbul, yeah it's enjoyable now. At the time it was F***ing gut wrenching and me nerves was shot to pieces. The homecoming itself though was a F***ing boss night.
Anybody who was there, knows just how good it was. Just like I had on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday before, I'd bunked off school on me dad's approval (did the Friday as well). We went down to St George's Hall around 5ish. Me, me arl fella, sister, uncle and three cousins. By the time the bus arrived, it was just me and me dad. I didn't know at the time where the rest of the family had ended up but we'd been separated and truth be told, that was fine by me because the rest of the family don't love this club the way me and me dad do. Ended up outside the Empire before getting moved on by some c**t of a staff member in there for sitting outside the doors. Walked over to the waterfall outside the museum, arguing with each other of whether or not to go home. We'd just heard over the tannoy that the bus wouldn't be arriving for another 2 hours. This is around 8 o'clock at this time.
Now I didn't have a coat with me and even late-May in Liverpool is kinda chilly. Me dad hadn't had his tea before we left so he was getting hungry. He was going "if you're cold, we'll go home" and my reply was "I'm alright but if you're hungry we'll go" and he was like "no I can cope, I'm just thinking of you getting cold" and on it went. Neither of us wanted to go home and neither of us would of gone home so we stayed. Me dad's leg had just started playing up around that time as well, still struggles with it now. So he was in pain as well as hungry.
But then, we saw the bus and every f**ker came running to see it. Only to find out it was the press bus
. Then the proper bus turned up, we walked down a bit to stand at the steps of St George's and through a couple of the trees there, we got a F***ing boss view of it. Glinting in the night sky was old big ears. Djibril and Djimi dancing away at the back, Carra holding it high. You'll Never Walk Alone belting out, tears in our eyes, hugging and dancing with complete strangers.
F**k la, night like that don't leave you.
Worst memory from a footballing perspective, was probably Jamie Carragher's debut for the club. Nothing against Carra of course but it was the first ever game I cried over. It was a week or so before me sixth birthday and we were playing a League Cup tie against Middlesbrough up at the Riverside. And we lost 2-1. We were listening to the game on the radio, me, me dad, our Mick and our Ste. And the defeat just crucified me. I was inconsolable for the rest of the night.
It became a good memory because when I asked me dad the following day why I cried like that he said it's because Liverpool means so much to me. But it's probably me worst memory as well because I remember how hurt I was. Roy Evans' leaving press conference was another heartbreaking moment for me.
