ça vient de l'offal.
il considère que rarement LFC n'a abordé une finale avec une telle confiance.
man utd a amélioré son total de 6points en PL par rapport à l'année dernière.
CFC a progressé,arsenal est en chute libre.
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TO CARDIFF, IN FINE VOICE AND GOOD SPIRITS
Paul Tomkins 10 May 2006
Tangible rewards will be thin on the ground for Liverpool if the Happy Hammers are living up to their name next Saturday evening. In so many areas it's been one of Liverpool's best-ever league campaigns; and yet, not only did the Reds not challenge for the title at any point, another Premiership win last weekend could not even ensure a 2nd place finish, and the guarantee of group-phase Champions League football. Close, but no hint of a cigar.
As expected, the 'if only's have been trotted out this week, in relation to the strikers and the chances not taken earlier in the campaign. It may be true. But surely Manchester United can say 'if only we'd defended better, we'd be champions'? Or Arsenal could say 'if only we'd not had so many injuries/if only we'd repeated our European form...' and so on? Even Chelsea will think there were games they lost or drew which they should have won.
Liverpool had the biggest gap to close on the champions, and it was the Reds who made the most progress; 'if only's seem churlish to me, as to expect progress beyond the addition of 24 points in just one season (when in the process hitting an 18-year high in terms of points won) is unrealistic.
Manchester United, themselves in need of improvement, added just six points to their league total, while Chelsea 'regressed' and Arsenal went into free-fall.
Interestingly, the top four – to confirm their superiority over the rest – can still end the season with one trophy apiece.
For a club seen as underachieving in recent times, the Reds have had quite a few cup finals to enjoy, and this is the fifth visit to Cardiff (excluding the Community Shield) in five years. Add in Dortmund and Istanbul, and that makes seven finals in that time, with only one defeat. Somewhat better than the three finals of the entire '90s.
And it's not just the quantity. In recent years Liverpool have been involved – and victorious – in some of the best cup finals seen in three different competitions (while also playing a big part in the joint-highest scoring League Cup final since it changed to the one-leg format in 1969, in the 3-2 defeat to Chelsea last year).
In 2001, the Reds came from 1-0 down to beat Arsenal thanks to two late Michael Owen goals. While not the best-ever FA Cup Final, it remains the most exciting seen in a long while. The Reds were totally outplayed by the Gunners, but that was back in the days when few would have swapped Owen for Thierry Henry.
But in the Uefa Cup and the Champions League, Liverpool won what were almost certainly the two most amazing finals those competitions have ever seen. The 5-4 victory against Alaves was quite incredible: a free-for-all of a football match for 118 minutes, until the Golden (own) Goal signalled victory. It was more reminiscent of a playground game, ebbing and flowing at pace.
Sami Hyypia, Steven Gerrard, Didi Hamann and Jamie Carragher all played their part in Germany. And, of course, so did Robbie Fowler, who came off the bench to score the best goal of the game.
Fowler was only a spectator in Istanbul. And so were Hyypia, Gerrard, Hamann and Carragher for the first 45 minutes. But they were all key men from that point on, as the Reds staged the most amazing comeback the competition had ever seen.
That time of the year
Football takes us back to different times in our lives, and nothing does so more effectively than a cup final. Unlike games against major rivals, cup finals take place at roughly the same time of the year: the warm days and light evenings of spring.
Five years ago I missed two of the three cup finals in the Treble season for foolishly opting to get married at the start of May. I'd already been to Cardiff for the first final of the season – indeed, the first to be held at the Millennium Stadium – as the Reds beat Birmingham, thanks to Fowler's goal and Carragher's incredible turbo-charged 130-yard run-up for his penalty in the shoot-out. (At one stage I was expecting to see a request for an Evel Knievel-style approach ramp leading down from the stadium roof.)
I watched the Uefa Cup final in a bar in southern Spain. Alaves, from the Basque region, were the opponents – something made more interesting by the gregarious Basque bar owner, who was goading me incessantly – in good spirits, I hasten to add – in between the pouring of some good spirits. To call it a nine-goal thriller does not do it justice.
Much like Gérard Houllier's side, that was my moment in the sun. As is nearly always the case at the time, without the aid of hindsight, I was unaware that the good times were not going to last much longer. My son was born in 2002, on the weekend of a thumping victory – which again seemed a positive portent – but the wheels were loosening, and about to fall off. From riding a tandem, I was now wobbling around on a unicycle. In perfect symmetry, the Reds were freewheeling into a ditch.
By 2003 I was ill, depressed and divorced (the latter down mostly to the former, and not the decision to watch two football matches during a one week honeymoon; at least those cup finals were not mentioned in the court proceedings). Houllier, who had been so good for the club, seemed to lose his grip of the team, as so many managers ultimately do at some point. But a grim season was brightened by another final.
However, I just couldn't face the League Cup final against Manchester United; witnessing a defeat against those opponents, should the result go that way, would have sent me peddling off a cliff. It's the only cup final I can remember missing, either in person or on tv – something previously (and subsequently) unthinkable. I chose to go on a date instead, when the offer arose, and heard the cheers from the other side of the pub when Gerrard scored.
The date proved a bit of a 'Diomede': she showed bright early promise, but then I never saw her again. But for once in my life, albeit for just a short period of time, I was happy to keep football in the background.
By the time Istanbul came around my life was radically altered. And in that, I'm probably not in the slightest bit unique: for us all it's a series of ups and downs from cradle to grave. Football is no different.
This weekend I'll be completing a hat-trick: it'll be the third final I'll have attended with a particular friend of mine. Both of the first two finals were won, but only after the ordeal of extra-time and penalties. I'm not sure my nerves could stand a third shoot-out, especially if Carra takes another one of those crazy never-ending run-ups (just remember Jamie, we're holding our breath, so keep it quick), but if it secures a victory over West Ham I'm sure I'll recover.
You'll Never Warble Alone
Last Saturday afternoon I took my son to see his mother perform in the chorus of a stage production of the Rogers and Hammerstein musical, Carousel. Apparently it contained one or two good songs. 'You'll Never Walk Alone' was the highlight of a show that seemed to endure beyond three periods of extra-time.
Having heard the song in all manner of contexts, including funerals, weddings, and of course a thousand football matches, it was strange to finally hear it in its original setting. And very powerful it was, too – even if the flouncing about was a bit off-putting, as indeed was the performers' bizarre insistence on signing it in key.
This weekend it'll be my turn. In Cardiff, it will be sung by the professionals.
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