Coutinho! The best Liverpool game of recent memory
By Tom Bogert
For my birthday two years ago, I pestered my family to get me a 2013/14 Liverpool third kit. One with no. 15 “Sturridge” proudly plastered across the back. It was a funky kit but resonated well with me over the course of the season to the point that a craving built in my inner conscience and I wanted it, badly. You win, Liverpool FC marketing team.
That kit was worn sparingly during Liverpool’s magical run that nearly left them at the summit of the Barclay’s Premier League after match day 38.
My birthday is in March and Liverpool played Manchester City in April. An early morning kickoff for me on the East Coast of the United States, a potential title decider at Anfield.
I was up well early that day, much before kick off due to anticipation, I awoke as if it was Christmas morning. My eyes furiously unfastened from asleep to fully stretched open. I sprung out of bed and embarked on the three step journey to my closet where my fresh Sturridge kit was hung. I put it on then amassed about six more steps to grab my wallet, keys, shoes and was out the door to grab some breakfast with the spare time pre-kickoff. At any rate, it was a special day, so treating myself to some Dunkin Donuts was in accord.
If you’re wondering whether or not I live(d) in a closet, it was my freshmen year of University. We weren’t exactly allocated much ground in a dormitory.
I returned and enticed a few of my non-Liverpool friends to crawl out of bed early on a Sunday morning to push my cupboard of a room to max capacity for the match.
As I became spoiled with that beautiful season, Liverpool stormed out of the gates. Raheem Sterling opened the scoring in the sixth minute. For a game of this magnitude I ensured my reactions would match its intensity, also smacking my friends with decibels of noise that is unwelcome on an early Sunday morning for college kids.
With a huge smile across my face I wondered just how many important goals that Sterling would score for Liverpool over the next 15 years. That assumption would be one of a few premonitions of mine that’d turn out to be wrong over time.
How naive, eh? Whatever, it was all the rage to dare to dream that year.
Twenty minutes later, prolific goal scoring defender Martin Skrtel (!!!) put the hosts up 2-0.
Oh man. What’s happening? This can’t– are they going to add City to the montages of big team drubbings? Where would this rank against the 5-1 Arsenal, 4-0 Everton and 3-0 United? What do I do with my hands?
Liverpool coast into halftime 2-0 up. I was greedy, I wanted more. I was flowing with optimism and jubilation.
Then it all changed. From the first ball kicked in the second half, it was a different game. I feared that Liverpool hadn’t done enough when in power. David Silva was ruining the defense and scored in the 57th minute, 2-1. Oh no. This team isn’t built to hold a one goal lead whilst up against it for thirty minutes.
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Nor were they built to hold a one goal lead whilst up against it for five minutes, as it turned out.
Silva cast a spell on Glen Johnson and heavily influenced the Englishman to deflect the ball past Simon Mignolet. Shocking that it had to be Johnson, right?
My jaw gaped. I became quieter, bar the eruptions of curse words. I assume this was much to the enjoyment of friends. One is an Everton supporter and the other an Arsenal, both vicariously living through City’s ability to stop an onslaught and reverse their fate.
How’d this happen? How’d Liverpool let this happen? The title, it’s vanishing. They were winning 2-0 after 26 minutes, I found myself wondering how many they’d win by. Now I’m wondering how many they’d lose by.
A few minutes after the goal, off comes Sturridge for Joe Allen. Is Brendan Rodgers holding on for a draw at Anfield?
Two minutes after Sturridge is replaced, Sergio Aguero is standing at midfield waiting to check in. Right, Liverpool entered Allen, Victor Moses and Lucas Leiva off the bench that day. That just isn’t fair.
Liverpool steadied the ship after Allen joined the party. The game evened out a bit.
Then, into the final quarter of the hour, magic happened. Philippe Coutinho did this.
I JUMPED UP IN UTTER EUPHORIA, SPRINTED ACROSS THE ONLY DISTANCE I COULD COVER AND JUST JUMPED ONTO A BED SCREAMING.
As I said before, what do I do with my hands??!? What do I do in general??? What’s happening??? This– this is all foreign to me. Liverpool, successful? What happened to the downtrodden end to Rafa Benitez’s reign? Where have the days of Roy Hodgson patrolling the Anfield dugout gone?
I sat back down. Thoughts crept into my mind, irrefutable thoughts completely took hold of my brain.
“Liverpool just won the league. Holy s–t. It’s really happening. Liverpool just won the league, there’s no way Liverpool can be stopped, no way.”
There’s the another mistaken premonition I alluded to in paragraphs prior.
But they still had a job to do against City, as much as I convinced myself the season was done and Liverpool were champions. Twelve minutes to hang on. They couldn’t hang on for 5 minutes when their lead was halved earlier in the half.
I grabbed my phone and texted my family, who were watching at home, just before the game restarted and I said: “this game is crying for a message, someone on Liverpool is going to ruin a City player in a 50/50. They need to cement that this game is over. It’ll be one of those Scouse boys, either Steven Gerrard or Jon Flanagan.”
It couldn’t have been more than a minute later when Scouse Cafu (legally, somehow) blew up poor James Milner just near the touch line.
“A throwback to the old days.” -something your dad probably said.
Me? I just screamed “TAKE THAT!!!!!” As if the poor guy had wronged me in a past life.
It was meant to be. It had to be.
The final whistle blew, Liverpool held on. They’ve done it. That’s got to be the title, I can’t believe it. I really can’t. The only times I’ve envisioned such a scenario is via EA Sport’s FIFA.
The infamous Gerrard post match battle cry of “THIS DOESN’T FU—-NG SLIP. WE GO AGAIN.” was caught on live TV. I was enthralled.
The only damper on the mood was Jordan Henderson getting sent off for a late lunge after a poor touch. All the energy and passion built up through the crowd, the same way Flanagan made his tackle, came through Henderson. But this time the Liverpool player was just a bit late. He’d miss the next three games.
At the time I tried to convince myself it was going to be okay, they’ll get the job done without him. Again, I’d be wrong. I’m struggling here in predicting the future, aren’t I?
Nothing matches how I felt in that moment as a Liverpool fan. Nothing matches that entire season.
Not Istanbul, I was just 10 years old. I couldn’t conceive what that truly meant.
Not the Gerrard FA Cup Final against West Ham a year later, again I was too young to get it.
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That day was the apotheosis of my Liverpool fandom. I didn’t know it at the time because I thought the trend was still climbing.
But, man, was it incredible. Absolutely incredible.
FC Liverpool – Manchester City 3:2 | Highlights
byI’ll always hold Rodgers in high regard. He almost delivered the most memorable of titles. What he did deliver, for me and for others, were the best moments following Liverpool Football Club.
Now, for myself and others, we turn to Jurgen Klopp. Will he exceed the high I experienced that April morning?
I have no doubts he will. And I absolutely cannot wait for those days.
But for now? I’ll always have the undeniable happiness of that day, that season. My favorite Liverpool match of recent memory.