The Slip. Two words that will haunt me forever. Two words that when mentioned to any fan of English football need no further elaboration. Everyone knows what is being talked about.
Although I have said that not all of these moments surround my own team, I couldn’t begin without talking about the most heartbreaking moment I have experienced as a football fan so far.
The 2013/14 season was Liverpool’s year. Everybody knew it and everyone was talking about it. I had just finished my year’s teacher training in Canterbury and had been successful in getting my first teaching job and this was now my first year living in Bexleyheath just outside London and even the locals that were fans of teams not involved in the title race wanted Liverpool to win it due to the exciting nature of their play and, of course, their bias against certain other teams.
I think that the events and feelings involved in my own fresh start - nervousness, excitement, uncertainty, elation and, at times, despair - melded perfectly with what my team were producing on the pitch to create some sort of perfect potion that made everything that extra bit special.
Many games were just absolute carnage and a case of we will just score more than you, which isn’t really a solid foundation for a title winning team but it was certainly fun to watch. I had found a wonderful local pub, the Rose on Bexleyheath Broadway if you are ever down that way, which was always busy with football watchers at weekends no matter what game was on. There was a cast of wonderful characters that frequented this place and many a conversation to discuss the finer points of the game was struck up over the course of the season. Sundays were the best because as well as beer, football and good conversation, the bar was always full of nibbles from cheeses nibbles to cockles, whelks and prawns to roast potatoes and sausages, so you really were well looked after. It was my home from home and I became known by the bar staff as Sam the Scottish Liverpool fan.
2013/14 was an incredibly exciting season as a fan of the Reds. Luis Suarez and Daniel Sturridge, ably assisted by Steven Gerrard, Raheem Sterling and Philippe Coutinho absolutely ripped teams apart that year. You never knew what the outcome would be but goals were pretty much guaranteed - 6 against Cardiff, 5 against Arsenal, Spurs, Stoke and Norwich and 4 in six other games - and as momentum built there was always that feeling that a game was never over, even if the other team scored a few too.
The season started off incredibly solidly with successive 1-0 victories over Stoke (including a late Simon Mignolet penalty save to really ingratiate him to the fans), Aston Villa and Man United and then dipped with a draw at Swansea and a loss to Southampton but after that everything just exploded, coincidentally in line with Suarez’s return from his biting ban. So many moments stand out over the course of the season that were just so enjoyable and fun to be a part of - standing next to an Arsenal fan in a London pub having lots of good-natured banter as Liverpool put 4 past them in the opening 20 minutes, Suarez’s incredible 4 goals against Norwich in November (he really loved playing against them!), scoring 9 against Tottenham over the course of two brilliant games - that despite the outcome, which we come on to shortly, I still look back on it as my favourite season ever to have been a Liverpool fan.
There were dips in the season such as the back to back losses against Man City (although Sterling had a perfectly good goal ruled out for offside and later missed a sitter, and Mignolet should probably have saved Negredo’s goal) and Chelsea (including a cracking goal from Hazard) which in hindsight probably had much more of a bearing on the final outcome than it seemed at the time, but momentum started again, other results continued to go our way, and the title seemed to edge closer and closer.
Gerrard was an absolute colossus that season, a real leader of men who always stepped up when needed with a vital pass, goal or just a bit more drive and determination. So long the cornerstone of Liverpool’s team and a solid presence even in the fallow years, this seemed like Gerrard’s moment to finally take the prize that had always eluded him. The thing that he wanted more than anything.
When the return game with City in April ended in a rousing 3-2 victory and the famous Gerrard ‘We go again’ speech, it seemed as if all signs were pointing to it being Liverpool’s year.
A victory over Norwich left Liverpool with a 5 point advantage over Chelsea and a 6 point advantage over Man City although they still had a game in hand and a far superior goal difference ( more on this later).
The final 3 fixtures were to be Chelsea at Anfield, Crystal Palace away and then Newcastle at Anfield on the last day of the season. The way Liverpool were playing, you definitely fancied them to get 3 points at Selhurst Park, and you would always fancy at least a point in the final match of the season at home, so the Chelsea game held even more significance than just being against close title rivals. It was a chance to lay down the gauntlet and to very likely wrap up the title with games to spare. That’s how it felt anyway.
All I could think of the whole week was the game that was coming up on Sunday and the kids in school must have been bored listening to me talking about it. There was alap the obligatory wind ups from certain parents ant pick up and drop off time as by now many of the children had told them where my allegiances lay.
Even when matchday finally arrived, it seemed to take forever to get to kick off time.
I knew where I would be watching the game, but I changed my routine slightly as my housemate Nick came to join me. Being a West Ham fan he also very much wanted Liverpool to win to end Chelsea’s chances.
The Rose had a particularly great atmosphere that day, with a wide range of allegiances from those local Chelsea fans, to fans of other London teams who were supporting the Reds, to those who would much rather both teams were able to lose. Everyone knew what this meant.
I had arrived early to claim my usual spot standing at the bar and said a silent prayer to myself as the ref blew the opening whistle.
Somewhat understandably, given the way that Liverpool had blown teams away early in games that season, Mourinho’s Chelsea set out to frustrate, getting all men behind the ball and taking what seemed like an age to take any dead ball situation from the very early stages. It also should be said to at Chelsea that day were without quite a few of their key players (Cech, Terry, Hazard and Eto’o among others all out) so defending as best as they could and waiting for a Liverpool mistake was a viable and sensible tactic. It was just where that error would come from, and how costly it would be, that was the biggest surprise.
Due to these circumstances, the first half passed without many clear cut chances at all - a dipping long-range effort from Ashley Cole, a presentable chance for Countinho at the back post and Sakho falling backwards and putting well over after a corner scramble - and Chelsea’s tactics to frustrate were certainly working on the Anfield crowd. Nervous tension was clearly filling the air.
As the game moved into added time at the end of the first 45 minutes, everyone around me felt that Mourinho would be happy for his side to have done their job and prevent Liverpool scoring in the first half in the league for the first time that calendar year.
With 2 of the 3 extra minutes already played, Chelsea had a corner, whipped in across the box, and Tomas Kalas (making his first Premier League start) really should have scored with a header. Luckily it only grazed his head and the ball fizzled out for a goal kick instead. Panic over, Liverpool settled to play it out calmly. And then it happened…
Chelsea had pretty much fallen back into their default defensive position of having everyone back when the ball came to Coutinho on the left touchline. Seeing nothing in front of him, he played the ball back to Sakho who then played a basic sideways pass towards Gerrard. Nothing out of the ordinary.
However, on this occasion, in the most uncharacteristic manner, rather than simply taking the ball in his stride and finding another short pass to continue the game, Gerrard let the ball slide under his foot. Whether he took his eye off it we will never know, but someone who certainly didn’t miss it was Demba Ba, the Chelsea striker for that day. Having noticed the error, he powered towards the ball keen to capitalise as Anfield fell into a hushed silence.
Recognising his mistake and obviously keen to atone, Gerrard moved too quickly, almost in one movement, to go and reclaim the ball, causing him to slip and fall and giving Ba a clear run through on goal. The striker managed to keep his composure in running towards an advancing Mignolet and calmly spotting the ball beneath him and into the empty net in front of a stunned Kop and the Mourinho plan had now worked to perfection.
The camera told the story in zooming in on Gerrard who looked as confused and shocked as everyone else at what had just happened. It is an image that I and many other Liverpool fans have repeated over and over in our heads countless times so I can only imagine what it was like for the man himself.
For the error to be made in the first place was unusual, but for it to be the captain, the driving force, the man who arguably wanted the title more than anyone else, was unthinkable.
As the referee blew his whistle for half time, the bar erupted into conversation as to what would happen next and if Liverpool could manage to pick themselves back up in the second half.
I sat quietly, a sense of dread setting in. Nick knew better than to push me to talk about what had just happened at that point. Somehow I just felt that this may be the big turning point that would make all the difference. Probably instilled by years of disappointment up until this moment. Liverpool had the firepower no doubt, but Mourinho’s team had frustrated so well in the first half and now had a lead to protect as well. It was going to take a miracle.
And the miracle never came. Chances in the second half were limited - a few long range efforts and a Suarez attempt at the end - despite the early introduction of Sturridge - a substitute due to a hamstring injury - and by the time Willian scored Chelsea’s breakaway second, my worst fears had already been pretty much confirmed for a while. I knew that this was it. Title dream over.
The defeat was compounded by Man City winning later in the afternoon and this meant that it was now out of Liverpool’s hands as, despite being on level points, as mentioned earlier, the goal difference was inferior. That is what caused the implosion at Crystal Palace in the next game by pushing for more and more goals despite being 3-0 up and ending up with a 3-3 draw. But the die had already been cast before this. Without the loss to Chelsea, without the slip, that push would not have been necessary.
There was still the tiniest thread of hope on the last day of the season that a win over Newcastle coupled with City dropping points would grant us the title but it was never realistically going to happen. It didn’t stop me going back to The Rose to watch it all play out until the very end though. It was nice to be surrounded by newly familiar faces, even in a time of disappointment. Again, this camaraderie is something all football fans share, whether in the stadium or in the pub or with friends or family at home, as we all go through it at some point.
On the list of ‘What ifs’ in Premier League history, ‘What if Steven Gerrard hadn’t slipped?’ is surely right up towards the top.
In a career including fantastic highs - the glory of Istanbul, the ‘Gerrard Final’ against West Ham -it is cruel that the thing that Gerrard will be remembered for by most is the fact that he never managed to win the Premier League and that, in his closest attempt, it was his own slip that arguably made the biggest difference.
That however is the nature of the game we love.