Look who's talking...

So John Terry has branded Liverpool fans "horrible".
Am I the only one thinking 'pot', 'kettle' and 'black'? The England defender decided to have a pop at Reds supporters in his programme notes for Chelsea's match with Manchester United.
His rant read: "I've got to say that the stick us players took from their fans was horrible, but I'm sure every Chelsea fan will give it back to them on Wednesday night.
"We've heard about their fans around the last two semi-finals and how the second leg at Anfield is to their advantage.
"Well, I'll tell you what I think. Our fans are just as great as theirs when the game's a big one."
Er, Ok, John let's start with the "horrible" bit.
Despite his claims for the England captaincy, Terry is a man who was fined by his club in 2001 for drunkenly harrassing grieving American tourists in the immediate aftermath of September 11.
Pretty horrible.
He was also involved in a nightclub incident with then Chelsea team mate Jody Morris. He was charged with assault and affray but later cleared. So maybe I shouldn't pass any judgement.
Then there's the tabloid tales - there's been many.
Oh, and I haven't even mentioned his performances on the pitch. Ranting at referees, scowling at opponents - hardly Paolo Maldini is it?
So, before you go bandying phrases like 'horrible' around, John, I'd have a think.
And, secondly, "our fans are just as great as theirs when the game's a big one." Really? I doubt that's a view shared at Stamford Bridge, never mind anywhere else.
I mean, Liverpool FC officials have never felt the need to hand their fans plastic flags before a game to generate support, have they?
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there will be a great atmosphere on Wednesday night.
But do Chelsea fans really need John Terry to get them into gear for the second leg of a European Cup semi final?
If they do, there's something seriously wrong.

The roots of a Red

With Liverpool's match at Birmingham never likely to get the creative juices flowing, I began to think about where it all began this weekend.

Why is Liverpool FC so important to me? Why does a day never go by where I don't talk about the club (often to people who couldn't care less)?

Why do I risk being late for work to check the teletext for transfer gossip? Why, when I know I'm being ripped off, do I pay hundreds of pounds to travel abroad to watch a match?

The truth is - I don't know.

For many it's a family thing. Like it or not, they were dragged to Anfield at an early age and they caught the bug. Or maybe, they sat down on the couch, watched a game on the telly and fancied the real thing. And after mithering and mithering, their weary dads caved in and took them to a game. And they caught the bug.

My dad's not into footie. He might watch a game, often a majorly important European match. But the reason will be 'there wasn't anything else on'.

If I had a quid for every time he's said 'you're spending all that money to watch a bunch of fellas kick a ball?', I could retire. And I'm only 31.

So, it's not a family thing. And yet I can always remember being obsessed. I remember as a kid getting butterflies in my stomach. Not because I was at the match. No such luck. I just happened to be near Anfield with the match on the car radio.

I was going somewhere much more boring. The Wirral. But the fact I could see the floodlights gave me a buzz - I had the bug.

I remember watching many a game on a black and white portable television in the back room. There was no way my mum and dad would watch it on the 'big telly' -despite my requests, attempts at blackmail and tantrums.

I even watched the 1984 European Cup Final in the back room. And the '85 one too. On a 14-inch screen. Now's that's dedication.

I remember getting my first kit, too. The umbro one, '83-84, no sponsor. I loved that kit. In fact, I've still got it. Doesn't fit of course. It does, however, fit my girlfriend, Kelly, but it's not that kind of blog...

I got it for Christmas and it came in a box (the kit, not my girlfriend).

It's still got to rank as one of the greatest presents ever. As far as I was concerned, I was Kenny Dalglish.

And it was only right that I went into my mum and dad's room at 7am on Christmas Day and told them so.

Still though, no match. To me, the world was against me. There was many a sulk. But there was no argument. My dad wasn't taking me - and I wasn't allowed to go on my own. How I lasted until aged 14, I don't know. But on September 25, 1990, I climbed the steps to the Kop for the first time. Not that my dad knew about it. But by then, I had taken matters into my own hands.

I can still remember the game. Just seeing the pitch was amazing. The pitch was perfect. And to me, then, there was an electric atmosphere.

On reflection, perhaps there wasn't. That night Liverpool didn't line up against Everton. It wasn't Manchester United, Barcelona, Inter Milan or even Spartak Moscow. Nope, that night we played Crewe in the League Cup in front of a crowd of less than 18,000.

But I loved every minute of it. It finished 5-1 - Steve McMahon, Gary Gillespie, Ray Houghton and two for Ian Rush. I can even remember the name of the Crewe goalkeeper that night. Dean Greygoose. Random, but fact.

And that was that - I was hooked. The parents were informed. Like it or not, I was going the match. And just like George Gillett and Tom Hicks, They didn't get it. They still don't. And they probably never will.

And 18 years on, I'm left wondering, why? Where did it all come from? And I just don't know.

They think it's all over...is it b*llocks!

They skidded on the turf, embraced, punched the air and turned to face their jubilant fans.

The Chelsea players had won...er...well, nothing actually. Not the match. Not the tie. Definitely not the Champions League.

And yet there they were. All smiles. Frank Lampard clenching his fist at the deflated Kop. And the section of Anfield Road housing the Chelsea fans going wild.

It was like they had won the European Cup. But then, they don't know what that feels like do they?

OK, so they had snatched an equaliser in the 95th minute through a bizarre own goal from the hapless John Arne Riise - Liverpool's weak link and a player who has looked out of his depth at Anfield for at least a couple of seasons.
OK, so they are now favourites because if they can keep Rafa Benitez's side out for 90 minutes at Stamford Bridge next week they are through.

But, in a similar fashion to Arsenal in the quarter finals, didn't they make just a little too much of their celebrations? And we know what happened to Arsenal.

Chelsea deserved their luck, according to Lampard - a view echoed by Baron Greenback (aka Avram Grant). The sickly smile said it all. He thinks they've done it. He's already planning how to spend his roubles and taking vodka orders from his mates. In his mind they're in Moscow.

And it's not just Chelski and their fans who have decided it's all over. The texts came in from gloating Evertonians within seconds of Riise's gaffe. The Facebook updates rubbed it in further.

But me? I'm with Steven Gerrard. Asked if he was worried that Liverpool have never won at Chelsea under Benitez, he replied: "We haven't played there with Fernando Torres, have we?" My point exactly. There's 90 minutes to go. It's half time. We were the better team tonight and we can be the better team at Stamford Bridge.

Big games need big performances from big players. Tonight, we played well. But Gerrard, and Torres, can do better. Much better.

Let the Bluenoses snipe. And let Lampard and Grant count their roubles. Liverpool have already won in the San Siro against Serie A leaders Inter Milan in the Champions League. And - as if you need reminding - they've been in much stickier spots than this - and got out of it. Think Olympiakos. Think Istanbul.

If anyone can win at Stamford Bridge and leave the doubters choking on their text message, it's Liverpool.

The Yanks

So, here we are, on the eve of Liverpool FC's third Champions League semi-final in four years. And what are we talking about? The devastating form of Fernando Torres? The fact Steven Gerrard is showing his most consistent form in some time? Or maybe, Rafa Benitez's tactical masterstroke in switching formations - a move that has paid off handsomely at just the right time?
No, none of the above. It's still the Yanks. George Gillett and Tom Hicks. The owners. Boardroom people. People in suits. Rick Parry. People, quite frankly, that I don't give a flying about.
Now don't get me wrong, I want them out of the club as much as the next Red. They have let the club down, they have lied and they have conducted themselves in a manner that is just not "The Liverpool Way".
But, for now, I actually want them to STAY. I want them to stay until the end of the season.
And the reason? I think they're helping us towards a sixth European Cup.
Not in the way I would of wanted, I might add. Not because they've stumped up the cash for a string of super signings. Not because they've created a buzz around the club by ensuring work started on the new stadium. Because they haven't.
No, they are helping because lazy football journalists - and news journalists for that matter - are content to write pages and pages of reports about this pair of muppets.
And I think that's helped to take the pressure off the people that really matter, the team. Liverpool are almost expected to fail because of what is happening off the pitch. And if they do, which obviously I am praying they don't, the 'experts' will shrug their shoulders and say 'I told you so.' In the meantime, we've brushed aside the so-called fight for fourth, sealed another showdown with Chelsea in the semis and witnessed the best striker in Europe notch goal after goal.
We're playing well. And consistently well. And it's almost like no-one has noticed.
So if Hicks wants to keep on making a mug of himself (see what I did there?) and Gillett and Parry want to stick their chests out for the cameras, let them. If it means a sixth European Cup sitting in the Anfield trophy cabinet it will almost be worth it!

The start

Why I have waited until this ungodly hour on a Sunday night to begin a blog, I don't know. But I've been thinking about it for a while. Every self-respecting journalist seems to have one. Mind you, all the people who can't write for toffee seem to have one too.

So, here's mine. Not too sure how it'll pan out. But I plan to generally rant about the Reds - Liverpool FC. A passion of mine. And if anyone reads it, bonus. And if anyone wants to offer me a job, even better!