The Socially Awkward Scientist: Football

Steven Gerrard: My Story

21:00

My Story

- by Steven Gerrard

5.0/5.0 stars

I remember once upon a time, in Year 9, having to write a piece for English Language, on who my role model is; why I look up to them, why I appreciate their values, what I take away from their life. Having just read Steven Gerrard: My Autobiography at the time, my chosen person was a no-brainer. And now, having read the last page of Steven Gerrard: My Story, I understand why, so many years ago, he struck me as a role model. Almost a decade later, I stand by it. His story is incredibly moving, his philosophy so inspiring, and fresh off the back of his shock departure from Liverpool, his career legendary - to the point of heart-breaking.

Refreshingly honest, Gerrard takes us on his seventeen-year journey at his boyhood club; the defining highs and lows of his career, the triumphs and heartbreaks, and his emotional goodbye to Liverpool Football Club. The prologue broke my heart. It truly did. He writes about the moments immediately after the Chelsea game in which he slipped - in which we lost the title-that-should-have-been-ours - and it is so raw with emotion that it hurts to read.

| "I knew the glory of victory - just as I knew the despair of defeat"

- Steven Gerrard, My Story

My overly excited snaps when this beauty of a book arrived in the mail

And then he takes us back in time, through that glorious 2013-2014 season where Liverpool looked invincible, and in-between, we get snippets of Gerrard's past, flashbacks to pivotal moments in his career and life as he relives his own memories in present day. It's wonderfully done; as a Liverpool fan, we reminisce some of the legendary football nights as told by Gerrard, and we feel his pain as we get so close to glory, only to lose it in a fraction of a second.

For me, as a Liverpool fan, it was so much fun to read about matches that are engraved in memory, from his point of view from the pitch. One of my personal favourites was his charity/testimonial game that he brings to life on paper - and in doing so, brings to life one of my favourite memories of Anfield. But beyond the games and career highlights, we also get an insight into Steven Gerrard the person. He reveals his much more human side, both on and off the pitch, and it puts him in a different light. He's flawed, he's made mistakes and his emotions have sometimes gotten the better of him - and it's almost reassuring to know that he's just as human as the rest of us. To have him reveal the anguish over losing players like Fernando Torres and Luis Suarez, and the rage that spurs him on in Merseyside derbies and United rivalries, and his gaping sense of loss after our title race ended, ultimately shows that he is a Liverpool fan more than anything else. With every page in his book, he echoes the sentiments of every Liverpool fan - because he is one of us.

And then the ending. That ending. How is it, that you can know how a story ends, yet a stupid, naive part of you wishes for a different outcome altogether. How can you know how a story ends, and still have it sucker-punch you like there's no tomorrow. Losing our Number 8 wasn't something any Liverpool fan was prepared for. I vividly remember his last game at Anfield. It is embedded, clear as day, in my memory. I remember it being a beautifully sunny afternoon and I was in the lounge with my mum, surrounded by my revision notes that I had abandoned for the day because Steven Gerrard was about to play his last home game for Liverpool FC and the whole football world would be watching, and my laptop was propped up on the sofa with the stream loaded in crystal clear quality, and we lost to Crystal Palace, but Anfield was deafening with Gerrard's song, and after the final whistle blew, he walked out on to the pitch with his teammates all wearing Gerrard on their backs and the fans sang and sang and sang, and he gave his emotional speech that choked up every Liverpool fan watching, before walking towards the KOP that was mosaic-d in his memory, and he had his three little girls by his side and ohmygod I was trying so hard not to cry but holy hell I was failing I was failing so damn hard. And I read the last chapter of his autobiography and I re-visited that day through Gerrard's eyes and bloody hell I was in TEARS. He broke the heart of every Liverpool fan that day, and he'll break it again when they read about how he broke his own heart alongside theirs on that fateful day in May 2015.

Read it. Read it because there is so much to take away from Gerrard's story. He is so authentic and humbling in the way he talks, and his loyalty, integrity, and respect for some of the greatest names in football, is unbelievably admirable. It's no secret why he's a Liverpool legend. He embodies their spirit, and he has given their fans some beautiful memories that will live on long after he does. And so if you were to ask me today who my role model is - my answer would be what it was nine years ago, when I was a thirteen year old girl obsessed with her favourite footballer of her beloved football club.

Source

Football

Once A Red, Always A Red

21:56

Have an epic weekend, and you'll spend the Monday suffering the Monday Blues with the idea of resuming reality being a cruel one. After days of counting down, hours of excitement build-up, and miles of travelling, my Liverpool weekend finally came to life - the weekend that I lived and breathed Liverpool. I experienced the Anfield tour and I witnessed Liverpool legends grace the pitch. I felt every emotion that can possibly be associated with supporting a football club. I had the best weekend of my life.

Saturday was tour day; a 6am start that normally would take the life out of me but was worth every second that followed. There's something about stepping into Anfield and retracing the steps of star players; seeing the players' lounge, taking a stab at controlling the Anfield Press Room, visiting the players' dressing room and imagining the atmosphere as they kit up pre-match and prepare for the second half for those significant clashes, taking the momentous walk down the famous tunnel bearing the symbolic Liverpool FC sign, and standing in the most iconic stand in the world, is a feeling that can't quite be put into words. We toured through the Halls of Fame, we snapped the five European trophies proudly on display, and we marvelled at the history surrounding our club. Suffice to say, we left feeling pretty dazed.

And then match-day arrived and after motorway drama involving a broken down truck, we slowly crawled into Liverpool and neared Anfield literally as kick-off was happening. We could hear You'll Never Walk Alone ringing out loud and clear from the stadium as we sprinted from the car park to eventually take our seats completely out of breath. But there we were. Enshrouded in red. Transfixed by the names that were passing in a blur.

We re-lived the memories of the team that won us the 2005 Champions League Final and we cheered insanely so for the likes of Riise, Reina, Kewell, and Babel (God we've missed him). We went mad for the flashes of brilliance from Thierry Henry and the goals from Drogba and Balotelli (what goals they were). We sang Alonso's song loud and proud, because there he was. After all this time, he was back in the Liverpool midfield. Alongside Steven Gerrard. And we waited patiently for the two players we have been dying to see play together since 2011.

The first half came and went; the teams for the second half were called out and finally...finally finally finally we heard the names Fernando Torres and Luis Suarez. But when the teams made their way out of the tunnel, two were missing from the men in black. Anfield was silent. We were on the edges of our seats, craning our heads and waiting with bated breath for them to make their entrance. And then they emerged. We exploded. Anfield was deafening.

The second half was underway and it was mesmerising. We caught a glimmer of the chemistry between Suarez and Torres, the what-could-have-been, and it was incredible. Torres touched the ball and his song echoed from every stand because yes, we still love him. Suarez entered the penalty area and we broke out into his chant because by God is he ingrained in the hearts and minds of every Liverpool fan. The dream partnership? Very much so. The atmosphere was unreal. We sang for Garcia, went crazy as Alonso and Reina left the pitch, and erupted into ear-piercing applause and cheers as Gerrard too, made his exit. Before we knew it, the full-time whistle blew and the players were doing a lap of honour while we went crazy for them. And as they exited through the tunnel, Anfield resounded with You'll Never Walk Alone, just as the rain began to fall. It was beautiful.

The sheer emotion of Liverpool heroes gracing the pitch one final time simply cannot be described, heightened by their tweets and instagram posts that came flooding in pretty much immediately. And that's the incredible thing, isn't it? They've come and gone, imprinted unforgettable moments and gifted us with highs and lows, yet Liverpool is still in their hearts. Just as they are, ours. For 90 minutes, we were all back home; the few, the proud, and the emotional.

That's the thing about playing in red. They're immortalised in that special connection between player, club, and fans. Once a red, always a red.

Football

My First Anfield Experience

22:37

After fourteen years of supporting them come rain or shine, I finally watched the Reds play on home turf. And it was a dream come true.

I cannot tell you how long I have been dying to go and watch Liverpool play a game. It's been one of those far-fetched fantasies that I long accepted would always remain just a fantasy. The envy when my brother went to watch the Liverpool-Everton FA Cup semi-final at Wembley in 2012 shortly followed by two home games can't be put into words; I begged him to describe it in excruciating detail upon his 1am arrival despite his evident sleepiness and I forced him to show me all his pictures and videos, refusing to wait until the next morning. I'd watch the weekend games and wish that I was part of the crowd that went wild when we scored a screamer. I wanted to be singing You'll Never Walk Alone from the stand instead of having to watch it from a lagging laptop stream.

So when my cousin messages me saying he has a spare ticket to the Europa League game against Besiktas which he's taking my brother to, and asks if I'd like to come, suffice to say that I jumped at the chance. I literally, jumped. Up and down. Repeatedly. And silently screamed in excitement. I announced it in caps lock on twitter. My imagination immediately went into overdrive. And my mind went crazy with "you're going to watch Liverpool play at Anfield".

Excited doesn't cut it. So for two weeks, I had my mind on this one single event and suddenly before I even knew it, it was the day of, and I was about to explode with the excitement that had been building over the last fortnight. We set off early for the trip down (up?) to Merseyside for the 8pm kick-off and after killing a bit of time, we pulled out onto Anfield Road about an hour prior to kick-off and the atmosphere was unreal. I was overwhelmed by the mass of red, transfixed by the sheer number of people that were milling around takeouts and the little Kop Shop stands that were selling Liverpool merchandise. I watched as men, kids and women alike made their way towards the stadium, donning their red-and-white team scarves, LFC woolly hats, and the signature red shirt.

We toured around the official club store, bought souvenirs for the mother and yours truly, and stared in awe at the players' cars that were parked proudly by the entrance. We took pictures at the Bill Shankly statue and that famous KOP emblem and before I knew it, we were pushing our way through the tiny turnstile and walking up to the stairs that lead to the football stadium. And then there we were. I'll never forget the first time I stepped into the Anfield football stand; the total illumination of the pitch by the bright white lights, the players in their pre-match kick-about, and the huge Europa League logo that sat at the side of the pitch.

I was at Anfield.

Team line-ups were announced. Players made their way out of the tunnel. We sang You'll Never Walk Alone. We kicked off. And boy was it everything I had imagined and more. I was captivated. We watched as Liverpool came close to putting us in the lead, and as Besiktas missed their chances. We groaned in frustration then oooh-d and aaah-d at how we very nearly grabbed the goal we were waiting for with bated breath. We yelled at the ref and we yelled at the players. We jumped out of our seats when we were bordering a chance and we burst out in song to piss off those bloody away fans that were deafening with their chants. We gripped the edge of our seats until the 85th minute in which we earned a penalty and went up in an uproar. We went mad out of the sheer fact that we had a clear-cut opportunity to break the stalemate and score to win the game we had travelled 120 miles for. We went silent as Balotelli got set to take it. He scored. We erupted.

Visiting Anfield for the first time to watch us win? Feeling at home and proud as hell as the anthem rang out loud and clear throughout the stadium? Being the football hooligan that you are at home, with 40 000 other hooligans instead? It was exhilarating. My throat was raw from shouting so much, my hands hurt from clapping so hard, and my body ached like I'd been body-slammed - but my God was it worth it.

Liverpool-Besiktas - Kizoa Video Maker

Steven Gerrard: My Story

Once A Red, Always A Red

My First Anfield Experience

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