For The Kop

Kenny’s Journal.

Thursday.

14th April 2016, 23:14.

When I was young, my father had told me miracles were stories of myth and legend. There were no miracles in the real world. In the real world, there are only moments of brilliance. Moments that break the perception of what is normal. What is acceptable. Anomalistic moments that are exactly that: an anomaly. It doesn’t change anything. Things go back to the way they have always been.

Today, I respectfully disagree. Today, I saw a moment of brilliance. Things will not go back to the way they were before. Today, I saw what I call a hard-fought Liverpool fight.

When the season started, no one gave Liverpool any chance of achieving anything during the season. Our manager was sacked (with just cause) in October last year. We got a legendary manager to replace him in the “Normal One”, Jurgen Klopp. During his days in Germany, he took the fight to the German stalwarts, Bayern Munich, with his fast-paced, heavy metal Borussia Dortmund team. They ended their unchallenged reign and proved to the world that the Munich machine was not just human, but also, with the right tactics, it could be defeated soundly.

Tonight, we stood under the Anfield lights, quarter-final of the Europa League looming. Since November, watching Liverpool play had become a delight. But we still had a long way to go. Tonight, we played the second leg against the Borussia Dortmund side that Jurgen Klopp had assembled and so effectively managed for 7 years. 1–1 from the first leg, this game could go some way to salvage the season for the Kop and our beloved team.

The whistle blew and by within 10 minutes, we were 2 goals down. Shit. Because of the away goals rule, we had to score 3 goals to advance to the next round of the competition. For the rest of the first half, we did well to repel repeated attacks from a Dortmund side looking to prove that they were doing better in the post-Klopp era. And from the impact of the first half, it seemed likely to be so. But as I hung my head low in disappointment, a Kopite put her hand on my shoulder and said “We are Liverpool. We don’t stop till the final whistle blows. Don’t let anyone see you like this. It could be catastrophic.” In her eyes, there was a mix of hope and tears. I shook my head in approval and stood up. I help my scarf high and, with her, began to belt out our anthem. Soon, the whole Kop was singing with me.

Because of the last 2 years, Liverpool had become famous for choking at the most inopportune moments. A neutral would have said that we were done. This second half was not to be so decisive. But we have belief in our blood. Our history has always been about overcoming insurmountable odds. Our boys ran out with Klopp who looked somber. The Dortmund boys were used to large mobs of supporters. Their supporters are formidable too. “The Yellow Wall” has been a mythic story for me and if ever, I’d like to stand with them too. But not tonight. Tonight, there is a job to be done.

48 minutes. Our Belgian boy, Origi, put us in contention, with a cool move and finish. Game on. Let's go you Reds. But then, a hammer blow. Marco Reus, the fleet-footed German, slotted in. The scoreline is 3–1 and now we had to score 3 more goals again to overcome this relentless attack.

In 2005, when it happened in Istanbul, they called it a miracle. In a foreign land, to beat the Italian giants after being 3–0 down at half-time was no minor feat. We had it in our blood then too. We have it in our blood now. We don’t call them anomalies. This is what we do. 66 minutes and the deceptive Brazilian Phillipe Coutinho finished with some class. Game on again. I shivered. The last two goals were from two players who had been continually criticized for their unconventional approach to their jobs. Sakho would wobble like a jelly stick and Lovren had been accused of being inconsistent (with just cause).

Sakho scored with his head at 77 minutes and brought us to touching distance. We hugged and embraced in the stands. But we were told by a loud voice, “It's not done yet”. We screamed and yelled. No one sat. No one could. “Come on lads”, “pass it up”, “on the line”, “fall back!” We couldn’t stop. We could see the center-back advancing again hoping to get the ball as much as possible and finish. And then, James Milner made that cross. That cross. Lovren leaped and leaped long. Over Adrian Ramos. And headed the ball past the keeper Weidenfeller. The job was complete. The most remarkable turnaround had happened. A miracle as they would call it. But for us, it was just a hard-fought fight. For me, it was proof that this is what we do!

As I write this, I don’t think of tonight as a miracle. When he ran out with the team, somber, I believe Klopp knew. I believe he was ready to have his name etched in Liverpool folklore forever. “Win or lose, we fight till our arms and legs fall off”, that’s what he would have said to them. Tonight, I saw a team fight to win. They didn’t worry about spaces. They made them. They didn’t cry over missed chances. They made more. More and more, until we had what we needed. And what a victory.

I disagree with you, Dad. This miracle is not an anomaly. This day is a sign of things to come. A future where the stars shine bright and we sing because we believe. I trust in the future. I trust in Klopp.

YNWA

DISCLAIMER: This diary entry is a work of fiction, inspired by the night of 14th April 2016 when Liverpool football club played against Borussia Dortmund in the second leg of the UEFA Europa League quarter-final in Liverpool. Read about the game here: https://www.bbc.com/sport/football/36020910