I agree 100% with everything you say, BUT
If we loose this piece of silver for 8 f**king goals, I am gonna feel like Milan fans in Instabul. Absolutely deflated and gutted.
I am not gonna loose my proud for the team, but I will always remember this year, as the year that we almost clinched the title after 24 years.
I'll remember it as the year that we actually arrived back as contenders. The year that we finally buried that huge threat of mediocrity that has threatened us during the last four years in which we have seen an historical change in club ownership, the return and exit of a King, old heroes walk out, new heroes arrive, legends retire and a Roy Hodgson.
But I'll remember it more for it being the year that these Brendan Rodgers visions and philosophies became oh so very clear and 'Brendan Rodgers, Liverpool Manager' arrived and put us back into Europe. In the same year that the Hillsborough Inquests got underway and that a monumentous and courageous fight for justice, by ordinary, working class people who refused to back down from the corrupt powers that be, became imminent, a quarter of a century on from when the tragedy occurred.
I'll be happy as f**king Larry if we win the league do not get me wrong and I will be the most annoying, drunken, shouting, piss taking b***ard any of my Toffee nosed mates have ever known. I assure you of that.
Promise it!
If we don't though, I'll be pissed off for about an hour. Tops. After that? Well you can refer back to the previous paragraph.
Liverpool can make me the happiest person in the world but I refuse to let it ruin my day anymore.
To put it in context, on December 29th last year we got beat by Chelsea 2-1. The way I felt after that game I'll never forget. I was in tears, my head spinning, heart pumping with the taste of lager in my mouth drying up and the drink in me threatening to turn sinister and force my fist into the suddenly weak looking exterior brick wall of my local alehouse. The result would have normally arsed me and changed my mood, but not this time. All focus was on a text that my Dad (my Hero) had sent to me from Arrowe Park Hospital informing me that the Doctors thought he had a tumour. It was later confirmed as bowel and liver cancer and our lives were turned upside down.
Since then there's been Chemotherapy of which finished on 25th April. Four months of hell entwined with Liverpool Football Club taking me and my Old Man on one f**king hell of a ride. It's been f**king mental. Smashing Everton, destroying Arsenal, Tottenham 4-0, United 3-0, that City match? Fucks, besides a 2-2 against Villa we won every single one of our f**king league games in that time!! Talk about a distraction from things! The ride this club has taken us on has provided such an amazing thing to be involved in during such a dark time. A thing for me and Dad to go to, to discuss, to celebrate and smile about.
Then came Chelsea last week, the best part of four months on since that horrible game in December and all of it's horrible f**king memories and two days on from my Dad having his last Chemotherapy session. We know what happened in the ninety and my Dad just walked out with his face dropped, he looked really down because of a Liverpool game for the first time in a long time and it took me back to that last Chelsea game. Anyhow, my Dad's scan had been booked for the 12th May and we knew that during the match and all of a sudden the Liverpool run and title challenge seemed like nothing on reflection.
On Wednesday my Dad got a phone call from the Hospital, they had brought the scan forward from the 12th. By the Thursday lunchtime we were sitting in the Cancer Centre at Clatterbridge Hospital waiting to see the Doctor to discuss the results of the scan my Dad had just had. Bad news I hear you think? It's what I was thinking. "Good news" said the Doctor before going into detail of how the chemo had been working wonders and where we go from now on. Me and my Dad just sort of looked at each other as he said it and then walked out smiling like Cheshire Cats. I'm nursing the two day hangover as I type.
For me there will always be two significant defeats this season and they have been dealt to us by Chelsea. If we win the league then it will be glorious, fantastic, amazing.
If not, f**k it! The club has taken me and my Dad on such an amazing journey during a period of time that was incredibly hard but made easier by the elation of the results we got within those four months.
No matter what happens between now and a week tomorrow the club made me happy this year and me and my Dad will be in the Camp and Furnace come May 11th getting absolutely fuckng wasted whilst celebrating a fantastic year for the club and something to be proud of.
At half time, Dad 1-0 Cancer and I couldn't be any prouder to be a Liverpool Supporter if I tried!
