The Chronicles Of A Red: The Liam Harker Story

'After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'

                                                   ~ Joanne Rowling

I remember the 22nd of April, 2008. It was just less than a week before my end-semesters began my first year at college.

But why do I remember that day?

I remember that day because I witnessed an unbelievable—and tragic—event occur.

Liverpool had drawn Chelsea again in the semifinal of Champions League, yet again. Watching was quite an issue, as you can't be expected to keep awake throughout the night/early morning and attempt to attend classes at 8 a.m. the next morning.

But with an Anfield tie in the offing, the temptation was too much to turn down.

All was well, and contentment with the firt-half display turned into absolute joy when (who else?) Kuyt slotted-in in before the interval.

A rather evenly contested second half that saw us defend in remarkable fashion left me calculating by what should we score at Stamford Bridge, where we hadn't opened our account under the early Rafa years.

However, while lightning never strikes twice, when it does—just once—it's quite electrifying.

A Kalou corner just moments before the end of the match left Riise in two minds.

He would inevitably head the ball into his own net.

And it was the Kop end.

I remember my first reactions in a large but stuffy common room, in front of a 42-inch LCD Samsung (the irony of seeing tragedy unfold in your opponent's sponsor's product) TV along with a group of seven or eight other partisan fans.

I was speechless, my hands scratching my then-almost bald head. My train of thoughts were disturbed by fellow Kopite and then-final year student Prateek Dhingra, who went into a huge swear cum criticism of Riise.

I still remember his words echoing against the backdrop of a booming TV sound, "Why didn't he kick the ball!?"

By the time the the game was restarted and the final whistle blown, I was already out of the room, heading to my hall of residence on a hot April night.

It was a total disaster, and reading the post-match interview of Rafa was really disappointing.

The boss' reasoning was right, too: Riise was a left-footed player, the ball was coming in from the right side, unfavorable to the left-back, Riise was trying to clear the ball.

Well, he almost did.

I didn't want it to end that way.

Probably more of not hearing about a disappointed Liam, who would have watched the match, no doubt.

I wanted my team, Liverpool, to win it for Liam, rather than just for a a "huge step towards a final-berth in Moscow" headline in the morning papers.

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