Liverpool FC - Euro Red Diary 17

by Joel Rookwood

Liverpool v Chelsea

This is becoming a bit of a tasty fixture; the Champions and undoubtedly best team in the land, against the Champions of Europe and unquestionably the best team in Liverpool.

There was a time when visits to Elland Road, City Ground, Old Trafford and Highbury were the top inter-city fixtures for Liverpool fans. Goodison is always number one of course, but this is a tale of European Cup football, and by definition they are not worthy of entry in the discussion. Now though we have a new opposition, a new enemy. It wears blue, it has no pedigree or passion and it exudes arrogance. In a nutshell it is everything Liverpool are not.

With each contest between the two English giants commanding not only the interest of the nation but of the continent and indeed the entire footballing world, the latest encounter - a final group game which would decide who would qualify for the so-called "super sixteen" as winners and who would go through as runners up - was sure to arouse attention all over Europe.

Given its recent history it is now a tie laden with unsettled scores and emotions. Even after winning the European Cup, we still crave the title, which they hold, above all others. And anyone even loosely linked to Chelsea will doubtless still be having nightmares about their European exit at Anfield in May, despite having being crowned Champions just four days previously. Whoever gets the edge in the most recent meeting knows that vengeance will be sought in the forthcoming match.

Following Liverpool's uncharacteristically under par performance during their 4-1 league defeat by Mourinho's men at Anfield earlier in the season, it was the Champions of Europe then who were due to take the initiative against the Champions of England. Of course the ultimate battle, namely the European Cup Semi-Final last season had seen victory fall in the red court, and justly so.

Chelsea might not have won the title for fifty years before last season, but no London club, indeed no club in the South has ever even competed in the final of the highly coveted competition. Surely then it has to be their Holy Grail, and in this season more than any other.

Two successive knockout blows in the semi-final, both by supposedly inferior opposition has left Chelsea chomping at the bit. For all their money and arrogance, they just can't seem to make a real name for themselves in Europe. Benitez had of course been on the losing end three times last season before the two clashed in the double-header in May: twice in the league and once in the Carling Cup Final in Cardiff.

Despite the contrasting stages of redevelopment of the two teams however, none of these defeats were either emphatic or conclusive. Since "The Special One" took over at Chelsea, Liverpool have not been outplayed by the West Londoners, save for the awkward meeting at Anfield, in which Chelsea's clinical finishing was the difference between the sides.

Now it was time for the latest battle. Both sides knew that a win would almost certainly offer up less challenging opposition in the next round. Defeat however would render the least favourable draw a possibility; the side no one wanted to meet: FC Barcelona. Some of the more organised members of Liverpool's travelling support had arranged cheap flights to the capital well in advance of the game.

Our group, which consisted of a dozen-or-so die-hards, couldn't afford such a luxury however, no matter how reasonable. We were still recovering from the financially crippling effects of this year's previous European excursions, which amounted to eight away days. And don't even mention the World Club Championship in Japan, which is sure to bleed us all dry. Anyone wana buy a kidney?

We left Liverpool on the morning of the game, with Witho Senior graciously adopting jockeying duties. It was a largely uneventful trip down, although it was a European trip, and we still had the same language barriers as would have accompanied a trip to Madrid or Milan.

You've got to love that rhyming slang. Our first taste of it came during a largely impromptu stop off at the new Wembley, when some workies reacted bitterly to the unveiling of the Halewood banner in front of their building site. I couldn't tell whether it was the old ground being taken to pieces or the new one being built, such was the mess of the place. Apparently it will be ready in time for our visit there for the Cup Final victory in May. In the words of Jim Royle: my arse London, my arse.

Still, not that we're complaining, for the delay only means another trip to our second home of Cardiff instead. After a quick look around and couple of group photos, and a bit more banter with the Landanas working on the site, we made our way to Earl's Court, and the usual watering hole. The afternoon was passing quietly, so quietly in fact that a couple of us decided to put the spare time to good use. We made a list of the few lads who were notable only for their absence on the trip, and wrote them a postcard from the capital. Unsigned, it simply said, "To David Stead (or other random name), love from Chelsea". They weren't well received. I am not in the least bit arsed.

Those of us who had bothered to make the trip then all turned into ten year-old kids, all purchasing foam hands with "5 times", that one of the lads had had made up, in readiness for winding the Chelski fans up. There's no easier or more deserving target in my opinion. We then caught the tube to Fulham Broadway, and began to parade them.

Once in the stadium the Liverpool fans partied like we'd just won the cup with the big ears all over again. "Where were you in Istanbul?", "Where's your European Cups?", and "Are you going to Tokyo?" were among the scores of questions the away end offered up to their hosts, inevitably without reply. For Stamford Bridge is the quietest of quiet football stadiums. At its loudest, it is reminiscent of a New Year's Day morning Kick off at Highbury, or any game at Old Trafford that doesn't feature a Scouser playing against United.

The Liverpool faithful knew we had won the first battle before a ball was kicked, as for the first time in years the away support at Chelsea is now situated behind the goal. We are now kept well away from the dugouts, behind which the travelling support has been housed in recent years. Mourinho of course made the decision, apparently sick of the abuse he was getting by away fans who were then within spitting distance. What he doesn't realise, living in his own egocentric world however, is that the Chelsea away end was previously one of the worst in the country. A long strip of terracing that went along the length of the pitch with minimal depth - factors that never facilitate the generation of an atmosphere. Now the away end is bouncing at Chelsea and is more similar to the White Heart Lane away end, probably my favourite in the capital. The Chelsea boss doubtless does not realise the damage he has done to his own side in trying to protect his own self image.

Starting from where we left off last season, Liverpool had made an impressive start to their European campaign, and had already earned a commanding position, going into the game as group leaders. Rafa and his team knew that all we had to do was avoid defeat, and we would come out on top.

Benitez's side were ultra compact all over the park, and refused to let Chelsea's ineffective attacking play bare fruition. The game finished 0-0, which was celebrated like the victory that it was for Liverpool by the loyalists in the stands. The victory of the humble over the arrogant, the dignified over the disrespectful, the disciplined over the presumptuous. Our team quietly went about their business, with the self-acclaimed "Special One" doing little to hide the fact that it is his opposite number who is more deserving of the title.

Not that Rafa would want it, of course. In fact he would vehemently oppose it, as the following comment confirms: "Never call me "the special one"� I am one step closer to what the other managers achieved here. That is all." We drove home talking excitedly about who we wanted in the next round, all fancying a slightly more exotic destination that the previous two, namely Brussels and London, proved to be. We were not to be disappointed. Benfica, the mediocre-at-best side that Manchester United failed to overcome in the group stages are to provide Liverpool's next opponents. Chelsea, who apparently didn't care if they finished top of the group or not drew, why Barcelona, of course. Barca in the final anyone?

Joel Rookwood

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