One Thing I Have Found, There Are Just Two Ways to Go

After repeated requests by John Middleton, I'm going to address the thrilling, yet ultimately disappointing events, of last Tuesday, April 14th, 2009.

Before I jump into the actual match, I need to lay a little groundwork. A week earlier, at Anfield, Liverpool lost to Chelsea by a 3-1 scoreline. In a competition such as the Champions League, which features two-legged matches until the Final, and which values the number of away goals that a team scores if the match is ultimately tied on aggregate at the end of two legs, Liverpool was in a deep, deep hole as they headed to Stamford Bridge in London to face Chelsea?

Oh, I should also mention that Liverpool was without an injured Steven Gerrard. Juuuuuuuuust great, my friends. In the name of fairness, Chelsea was also missing their Captain, John Terry, but in a match that, at a minimum, needed to see Liverpool score 3 goals to have any chance of advancing to the semi-finals against Barcelona, the absence of their leading goal-scorer this season, as well as the man who is a strange mixture of lucky charm and inspirational leader, did not bode well as the match began.

But what a beginning it was, my friends. Just 19 minutes into the match, the White Brazilian #1, Fabio Aurelio, struck a very, very clever free-kick past Chelsea goal-keeper Petr Cech to start the scoring.
Looking back, this is exactly where the pain began. Was it painful at the time? Of course not, but this is where the hope began, which ultimately made the pain at the match’s conclusion all the more stinging. If you’re scoring at home, we’re currently at 1-0 on the night and 3-2 on aggregate. Game on.

A mere 9 minutes later, Liverpool midfielder Xabi Alonso is hauled down in the box by a Chelsea defender. As the referee pointed to the penalty spot, high-fives were raining down where I watched the match with two other Liverpool fans as well as one Chelsea supporter. After Liverpool’s best-bearded player, the aforementioned Mr. Alonso smashed home the penalty, there were a high number of fist-pumps/Caucasian dance moves. At least I think they were dance moves. They might have been seizures. There’s really no way to tell the difference. If you’re scoring at home, we’re currently a 2-0 on the night and 3-3 on aggregate as we enter halftime in West London. Almost to the top of the mountain, my friends.

As the second half began, I remember having thoughts similar to those experienced by Bill Simmons during Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. Before I proceed, I should note that this game was not nearly as big as Game 6 due to the fact that this was a Champions League quarter-final and that this game did not hurt nearly as much as Game 6 hurt the Sports Guy, but I did think this: Man, I hope we’re recording this. It will be GREAT to watch in the future. Not good from a karmic perspective, my friends. NOT GOOD.

A mere 6 minutes into the second half, we begin to lose cabin pressure. A cross came in from the right towards the Ivorian Diving Champion, Didier Drogba, who put a slight touch on the ball, which was enough to disorient Liverpool goalkeeper Pepe Reina, who allowed the ball to slip behind him into the waiting goal. Now, we’re at 2-1 on the night and 4-3 on aggregate. Liverpool are slightly battered, but they still need that 3^rd goal.

What happened 6 minutes later probably falls into the “Stern of the Titanic actually lifting clear of the North Atlantic” category of “This REALLY is not going the way we need it to”. After winning a free-kick just outside of the Liverpool penalty box, Chelsea defender Alex (yes, just one name) absolutely rockets the ball past Pepe Reina.

I’m not sure if I can find the words to accurately describe the pure physical power that was exhibited by Alex’s free-kick, but just in case I cannot, here’s footage. We’re now at 2-2 on the night and 5-3 on aggregate.

Things really began to spiral out of control at the 76-minute mark when Xabi Alonso gave the ball away in his own half, leading to the Liverpool defense looking like the Keystone Kops as they attempted to chase down Drogba, who ultimately passed the ball back to an on-rushing Frank Lampard, who needed only one chance to direct the ball beyond Pepe Reina. At this point, my body lost all signs of tension/hope, and I slumped down on the couch to watch the last 14 minutes only out of apathy/duty. The ledger now says we’re at 3-2 on the night (advantage Chelsea) and 6-3 on aggregate.

Despite the fact that it has now been co-opted for a World of Warcraft commercial, there is great truth in the following line from The Godfather III: “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” At the 81^st minute mark, just as I was thinking about what I needed to do after watching the match, the White Brazilian #2, Lucas Leiva, pops up with a goal to bring Liverpool back to 3-3 on the night and 6-4 on aggregate. Granted, this means that the Reds still need to score 2 goals in the last 10 minutes at a place where, before tonight, they had needed 4 games (in the Champions League) to score 2 goals, but I’ll say this: These last 10 minutes should, at the very least, be exciting.

Less than a minute later…okay, I’m all the way back in, ladies and gentlemen. Dirk Kuyt, the Flying Dutchman, has headed home a pinpoint cross from winger Albert Riera.
The Tiger Woods-esque fist pumps and Caucasian dance moves have returned in full force. The students on Arrested Development may have chanted “Four more years” for Steve Holt (complete with raised fists), but all I’m asking for is “ONE MORE GOAL, ONE MORE GOAL”. We’re now at 4-3 on the night (advantage Liverpool) and 6-5 on aggregate, meaning that if Liverpool scores one more goal, they’ll be tied on aggregate and Liverpool will win on the away-goals rule.

That sound you just heard was a cry of anguish from Waco, TX and a cry of joy from Dallas, TX. When Frank Lampard scored his second goal in the 89^th minute, ol’ Frankie Boy took the scoreline to 4-4 on the night and 7-5 on aggregate. If this is the Battle of Little Bighorn, this is where Custer is lying on the ground, looking up, and all he can see is the sky and the face of a lot of angry Indians, all the while thinking,” This really is not going to end well.” 3 minutes later, the referee blows the final whistle, Chelsea moves on to the semi-finals to face Barcelona, and Liverpool heads back to the northwest of England to mount a final challenge for this year’s Premier League Title.

All in all, and barring the fact that Liverpool and Chelsea are two of the biggest clubs in the world, this match ultimately reminds me of the final game from the immortal 1994 film Little Big League. You know the movie, my friends. The kid, Billy Heywood, is bequeathed ownership of the Minnesota Twins by his grandfather, he ultimately manages the team into the playoffs, where they lose on a stunning catch by Ken Griffey, Jr. at the fence to rob a Twins player of a homerun that would have been a game-winner.

When you watch the movie, you know that the Twins went into that game with a huge mountain to climb, you watched them put up a gallant fight, but in the end, the mountain was just too steep that day, and the bad other guys won in the end. Liverpool went into this match needing a miracle, and they almost pulled off that miracle, but sometimes it’s asking a little too much of the soccer/football gods to pull off Istanbul: Part II against an opponent as strong as Chelsea.