Monday was a disappointment of a magnanimous nature.
Liverpool were five minutes away from their second Merseyside derby victory of the season over Everton when all of a sudden, the Blues equalize.
It reminds you how much a derby can be unpredictable, especially considering Everton were on a good run of games—with the undeniable fact of some good away form—and Liverpool being usurped at the top of the table.
It’s a thought that can hardly cheer up the sullen mood of even the most optimistic red.
But it’s not the end of the road because the Reds still have 16 more matches to play.
When the match ended, my disappointment over Liverpool’s failure turned my attention towards a long forgotten talk that me and my father had many years ago.
It started as an inquisitive but naïve question on the subject of the missing fingers on my father’s right hand. He lost those fingers—and permanently disfigured the others—when he was inspecting a machine and someone unknowingly turned it on.
This not only happened before mine or my sister’s birth; but also before his marriage to my mother.
However, some 25 odd years on from the accident, my father has become one of the best experts in the garment industry.
In this talk, he rightly pointed out to me that “Believing is all that matters, no matter whatever the world thinks of you or the verdict it has decided on you.”
It’s a lesson I have always remembered during the most unfavorable times of my life.
“Champions League knockout stage, here we come “
Four minutes from being eliminated from the group stages to being “Kings of Europe” seven matches later, the title-winning Champions League campaign of 2004-05 had everything one could want from emotions to goals.
The Road to Istanbul was a topsy-turvy journey into an unknown oblivion. Every match had emotions hidden somewhere that would be cherished for many years to come.
Considerthe first few minutes of the friendship display to the travelling Bianconeris for the first leg of the quarterfinal, or the six minutes of added time against Chelsea during the second leg of the semi-final, or the six minutes of madness at Istanbul during the final.
But to be able to feel those emotions of such a high order, the team would have to earn it to play the matches. The success of the campaign has to be directed toward a single goal that set a benchmark for “believing” in the team.
Roll back to the last match of the group stages, Anfield on the eighth night of December in 2004, and further assurance won’t be required.
By the end of the 27th minute, any chance of getting past the group stages looked bleak, with the Greek opposition going into a one-goal lead through the Brazilian play-maker Rivaldo.
But fast forward to the seconds of the 86th minute, when Anfield exploded.
Steven Gerrard’s 20-yard rocket screamed into the bottom corner and sent out a clear message to other European oppositions: “We are coming.”
Captain “Fantastic” gave us a reason to believe. Since then, we haven't looked back.
One of the reasons that Liverpudlians feel so special is the atmosphere they create. But a song makes it even more special for each and every occasion.
Gerry and the Pacemakers wouldn’t have believed that their 1963 single "You'll Never Walk Alone" would be a spark for a red revolution. Every single moment, be it during grief or jubilation, the song has been a great companion.
Really, the song has been an inspiration for any Liverpudlian around the world.
Even the great Shanks would have been proud to have the name of the song being encrusted on the “Shankly” gates. No rock or pop song can lift anyone’s spirit’s like "YNWA" does.
If I have ever felt let down by the red’s form or even a result; a quick play of the song reassures my belief in the club.
In The End
We can talk for ages of what we know and how great we are. Lengthy speeches containing great support or great beliefs do the rounds everywhere.
But in the end, words can be considered not as affective as actions.
Wherever you are or whoever you are, tuning on your television to any sports channel that broadcasts your team's match or taking great pains just to get a seat in a stadium, is enough for any believer.
If the scoreline isn't always favorable to the Merseysiders, I still would want a glimpse of how my team is playing even during the most unfavorable conditions. At least I stuck to the team for the whole 90 minutes and believed for the best result possible.
It's time to stop talking and start believing because sometimes silence yields gold rather than silver.