Liverpool and the Miracle of Istanbul: Part Three

Barcelona gave Manchester United a footballing lesson last night in the Champions League final, but nothing can compare to the 2005 final. In the final installment of this three-part series I look at Liverpool's greatest triumph: Istanbul.

You can read Part One here and Part Two here.

The build-up to the final was amazing. I couldn’t believe I was about to see my team in the Champions League final! The usual doubts came from all my friends and family.

“You won’t win against AC Milan.”

I let them doubt, I believed we could win it. I was wondering how Milan Baros was going to get anything against Maldini, Nesta, Stam, and Cafu, four of the best defenders of their era, but I thought we could do it.

Looking back at the teams, it was a mismatch of epic proportions. Dida vs. Dudek, Cafu vs. Finnan, Stam vs. Carragher, Nesta vs. Hyypia, Maldini vs. Traore, Pirlo vs. Alonso, Gattuso vs. Luis Garcia, Seedorf vs. Riise, Kaka vs. Gerrard, Shevchenko vs. Kewell, and Crespo vs. Baros.

Between them, the Milan starting line-up had won 13 European Cups. Liverpool had won none. As I sat down in my lounge, curtains drawn, lights off, and volume up, I was cautiously optimistic.

I couldn’t wait for the start.

Then it came, and I was soon wishing it hadn’t started. Maldini put Milan ahead after just 42 seconds.

I was absolutely gutted. It had taken less than a minute for my sheer excitement to be turned into utter despair.

My mind wasn’t thinking “we can get back into this” it was thinking “how much will it be?”

This feeling was calmed somewhat by the next half an hour. We were holding out and had come close through Sami Hyypia and Luis Garcia.

Milan had also come close, however. Garcia cleared a Crespo header off the line and Shevchenko had a goal disallowed.

Liverpool were certainly skating on thin ice.

Harry Kewell’s inclusion was a surprise one and one of the best things that happened to us on the night was him getting injured. It sounds harsh but it’s true.

He looked off the pace after a long time out and was giving the ball away cheaply. As the half-time interval was approaching, I knew a goal at this time would be huge for Liverpool.

Then there was a penalty appeal against Nesta. I was up screaming for it and couldn’t believe the referee had turned it down.

This feeling was to be made ten times worse just seconds later, however, as Milan went up the other end and scored through Crespo.

I was heartbroken.

It was game over and, for the first time in the match, I became subdued. Then Milan scored again. In hindsight, this was a wonderful goal, but I didn’t need my dad telling me that at the time.

Crespo’s little chip over Dudek came just before half-time and when Liverpool fans were still mourning the loss of the second goal. When the whistle went, my brother and dad left the room adamant that Milan had won it.

For some reason, however, I felt we still had a chance. I felt we could do it. I don’t know why or how, but I thought we could.

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