He collected Steven Gerrard's pass and fed Fowler for a fierce finish, then took advantage of Mark Fish's error to score himself. As Curbishley feared, his defence, lacking the suspen-ded Richard Rufus, had eventually been exposed by Owen's pace. The chant was "three cups and the Champions' League" and for once in this dramatic season Liverpool and their supporters could relax and enjoy the closing stages.They did a lap of honour, well received by the home crowd, who then gave their own squad deserved acclaim for a place in the top nine. Ghastly anti-climax or not, there was much to celebrate at The Valley, not least that Shaun Bartlett's volley against Leicester was chosen as Match of the Day's goal of the season.
In August, more pessimistic Charlton fans looked at the final fixture with trepidation, little realising that the overriding aim of avoiding relegation would be achieved with months to spare. Nor could Liverpool have known that their cup would overflow with quite such abundance.. Sometimes, like soap opera addicts, we are guilty of anticipating too much and appreciating too little It is always what happens next that matters. By midnight in Dortmund on Wednesday, as the last interviews were being siphoned into tape recorders and the stragglers filed away into the darkness, the temptation was to view a night which had pitched emotions through a Southern Ocean of turbulence as merely the preface to a greater theme That is the way of football.
Sometimes, like soap opera addicts, we are guilty of anticipating too much and appreciating too little It is always what happens next that matters. By midnight in Dortmund on Wednesday, as the last interviews were being siphoned into tape recorders and the stragglers filed away into the darkness, the temptation was to view a night which had pitched emotions through a Southern Ocean of turbulence as merely the preface to a greater theme. That is the way of football. The third question fielded by G?rd Houllier at the post-match press conference involved the implications of the club's deeply significant visit to Charlton Athletic. It was a decent enough enquiry in the context of Liverpool's season, but you wanted to clip the inquisitor round the ear, not least because of the insult to the players of Alaves who, in the bowels of the Westfalenstadion a few floors below, were too busy squaring up to the present to contemplate any future.Liverpool can justifiably claim to have glimpsed the distant peaks of their past; Alaves know that their brave climb, which began in Spain's semi-professional ranks 11 years ago, fell just short of the summit, that their club will now be ransacked and their indefinable spirit crushed. That too is the way of football.Reflections on the Uefa Cup final and its 5-4 scoreline were tempered by a shortage of ready comparisons. Real Madrid's 7-3 beating of Eintracht Frankfurt 41 years ago was a celebration of brilliance and, though few knew it at the time, the end of an era. Liverpool and Alaves worked to a more complex script, demanded a more sensitive emotional attachment.Yet these two unlikely foes produced a match in a major key, with a thumping rhythm and subtle themes: courage, spirit, joy, hope, despair, victory, defeat, dignity.
