Johnny’s starting a new feature this week. Every Friday he’ll be picking someone or something from this week’s football that deserves celebrating. This week he starts with one of two games this week that was impossible to win … almost.

Who’s This Week’s Hero, Johnny?

In any normal week, it would obviously have been Tottenham Hotspur, heroes for coming back from three goals down to get to the Champions League final in one of those performances where you felt they almost wanted to make it as hard for themselves as possible but somehow pulled it out of the fire. It was, by any stretch of the imagination, a heroic performance and none more so to than by Lucas Moura. Stunning. Just stunning.

So, I’m sorry but this isn’t about him or them, even though they made an equal call. However, the night before, something also very, very remarkable happened on Merseyside and I had to write most of this ahead of the Spurs game because of some life practicalities involving rock n roll and I’m sure you’ll agree rock n roll comes before everything, so forgive me but the hero of the week is very, very deservedly, Liverpool FC. The team, the manager, the club. A late Victorian institution forged in the red-bricked working-class terraced streets of one of England’s finest, most important cities. A place more akin to a temple than a sports stadium. The Spion Kop named in honour of fallen soldiers of a Lancashire regiment during the Boer war.

Like heavy metal music, you either get Liverpool FC or you don’t. If you get it, you know why it is so special, so uplifting, so emotional, so…other. If you don’t, perhaps it all looks like so much mythologising.

Tuesday night’s extraordinary events will surely bring some more converts to their knees at the altar of unknowable romance between joy and love that such nights as these at Anfield evoke.

What Have They Done To Deserve This Then?

Well they gave Barcelona an heroic doing, didn’t they? Yeah, that Barcelona. This was the stuff of fiction not of fact. Like any good superhero, they were tested by fire and fury but emerged against the odds to be victorious and in doing so made our hearts swell with pride and massively elevated blood pressure .

Going into a game against any side when you need to win is mentally tough enough. Going into a game you need to win in which you cannot afford to concede must surely double that pressure. Going into a game you need to win in which you cannot afford to concede and must also score four goals is almost, almost, almost impossibly crushing.

If you’d laid out exactly what needed to happen before the game in order to give the Reds a chance, once the game was underway, each piece fell into place perfectly. The early goal, the clean sheet by half-time, two goals close together to crush the opposition spirit and finally, the late-ish winner without too much time for the opposition to retaliate. It could not have unfolded much better. To the Spanish side it must have felt as though everything was stacked against them and whatever they did would never be enough. Even if they’d scored once, twice three times, you know Liverpool would’ve scored again and again and again until they had won.

And yet, like all the best stories, there were setbacks in the injuries to two of their best players before the game and to their wonderful full-back Andrew Robertson during the game, an injury inflicted, again as though in a fairytale, by Luis Suarez the ultimate pantomime villain. Of course, this being a fantasy game, Robbo’s substitute went on to be a hero, scoring two goals. After the game the Giffnock warrior came up with a wonderful put-down for the man who had injured him, as though it was a pay-off line in an action hero movie. And then there was Captain Henderson playing on one leg, hurting himself to pull the team through, like a polar explorer with frostbite, determined to get the ship back into port.

There was magic dust in the air of Anfield on this night. Not only did the stars align, the Gods pulled on a red shirt and agreed this would be One Of Those Nights. The European nights that are so epic and so rightly legendary in Liverpool. The air was once again thick with the electricity of hope and the buzz of fear, soaked with the sweat of nerves and finally, the tears of joy.

Only football can do this. It is such a low scoring game that any goal is an almost deliciously exotic collector’s item. Four is too much to hope for, almost too many to imagine. And in this context, jaw-dropping.

This was a game that wasn’t won by default, not by the capitulation of the opposition, no, it was a victory carved out by the far superior side who simply crushed their opponents and insisted on their helplessness in the face of their brilliance. A side that worked as a single organism. As the fourth goal went in it was possible to believe the team existed in harmony with the supporters as one single consciousness.

The noise in stadium was hyper-real, pounding and relentless. The Anfield choir resonating in the chest of every witness. This was church. This was religion. This was holy.

The post-game interviews were conducted with players who seemed dazed and incredulous at their own achievement, blinking into the light as though they had been abducted by aliens and now back on earth had no words for the otherness they had experienced. This was in every single sense out of the ordinary. This was footballing magic realism dreamed up by the peyote-soaked synapses of a poet, the physical and spiritual locked in a passionate infinite dance of lust and love.

Jurgen Klopp’s interview was not the usual post-match obligation. It was like someone talking about the LSD trip they’ve just had. Full of far-out bliss and amazement in the realisation that everything is everything else, love is all and we are all one in the universal mind.

“It was too much,” said Jurgen, with a quiet shake of the head. A man so normally voluble and boisterous in victory was becalmed in the waters of amazement by the past two hours. To tell his players “This is impossible, but because it’s you, it is possible” like an Old Testament prophet, must’ve stirred every soul.

The lovely generous and touching benevolence in saying “there are more important things in the world, but creating this kind of emotional atmosphere together is so special” caught the spirit in the air, perfectly. And in saying “these boys are fucking mentality giants” he spoke truth unto the power he had unleashed in them.

This was history conducted with the intensity of light being sucked into a black hole. Here was 90 minutes that will live forever and be loved forever. Footballing starlight that will always be shining, even in the darkest moments. Something to hang onto during the storms of life. 90 minutes that will vibrate the molecules of time after we have turned off our minds, relaxed and floated downstream. These were moments that will never die or fade. The profundity of nowness writ large against the humdrum, its echo will never quite fade from the ears of history.

“It’s so nice. It’s so really nice,” said Jurgen. And it so was.

Anyone Grumpy About It?

The days are gone when the British supported all and any British club in Europe on principle. Indeed, that seems quite a quaint old-fashioned notion in 2019 when many seem to feel supporting a club simply because they’re successful or really good, has become established as a perfectly sensible consumer purchase. You want the best, you buy the best, right? Life is just one big shopping trip. You get what you pay for. Recently I asked a 20-something why he had the Catalan club’s shirt on (Messi on the back, of course!) “Because they’re the best team,” he replied, looking at me with an expression that suggested supporting a side that wasn’t the best was such a loser’s outlook on life. He must wonder what the rest of us are doing and why.

So I’m guessing Barcelona’s legions of fans (or at least all those people who own a Barcelona shirt) are a tad miffed about the result. That being said, those inside Anfield were great, applauding the teams off the pitch and singing Beatles songs as though giving in to the city and culture as well as the club.

Those who spend a lot of time telling anyone who will listen that the great Anfield European night is self-regarding mythologising might have had a hard time pushing that notion this week. Manchester-focused fans may also feel the Liverpool love is too rich a pudding to eat, but no-one should turn their back on the positive energy released that night, so big, so powerful it must surely have its own gravitational pull.

What Was The Media Response?

It was broadcast on 5live and BTSport. As ever, I listened on the radio. Ian Dennis was the commentator with Alan Shearer (who is superb on the radio and always seems to get thrilling games) riding shotgun. If you didn’t hear it, it was one for the ages and in the very best traditions of Peter Jones, Bryon Butler and Mike Ingham. Emotions ran high, voices snapped and squeaked and there was many a lung-ripping roar. How on earth anyone keeps it together to be cogent and articulate in such circumstances beggars belief, but they did so without losing any of the shock and thrill. Kelly Cates was presenting and as ever was incredibly professional when, given her connection to the club, she must have been absolutely fizzing inside and probably just wanted to scream “f**king get in, you beauty!” a lot. It was joyful and uplifting and will live long in the memory. One to be dusted down and brushed off over a single malt in years to come and to purr “now, this was a night”.

I caught up with the highlights on YouTube from BTSport. Darren Fletcher was on top form as commentator and fair play to Des Kelly for going on the pitch to talk to the stunned players with a genial grin and a guiding hand on the small of the back. Handled Jurgen’s f-bomb perfectly too. I think he suspected it was coming.

Reading through the match reports in the papers, every adjective seems to have been used to describe the performance. Radio 4’s Today programme even got Roger McGough to write a lovely wee poem inspired by the game. For some reason they also put Steve McMahon on with comedian and Chelsea fan Omid Djalili (because he likes football, I think) which made my ears curl up like a salted slug. Actor Damian Lewis was also on for 90 seconds on an barely audible phone. Dunno why.

The best report I’ve read was by the estimable Jonathan Wilson in the Guardian where he painted the widescreen picture and how this incredible game fitted into it.

‘The tyranny of the pass, inspired by Guardiola at Barça, is over and football has returned to a more hybrid form, one in which technique needs to be matched by physique; even Guardiola has adapted his approach to an extent. As he promised on his arrival, Klopp has returned English football to the English.’

And I enjoyed Chris Bascombe’s piece in the Telegraph about James Milner’s tears:

‘Milner’s outpouring exposed the pain of defeat a week earlier. Just as likely, it revealed that inner dread of another season of brilliance ending with nothing, the vice-captain despairing of another hard luck story, his Yorkshire steel made brittle when confronted with the possibility of having to hear that most horrendous of soothing messages: ‘we go again’.’

Jonathan Liew’s cleverly written piece in the Independent ended on a lovely poetic note:

‘A night when Anfield heaved with the heft of the impossible, when a crowd of thousands and an audience of millions lost itself in the mad, dangerous intoxication of football.’

What The People Say

This was one of those games that anyone who loves football waits all season to see. The feel-good story which has made a lot of people, even neutrals happy. Any example of the positive vibes the game can invest in all who will open themselves up to it.

“I don’t care how deep your football rivalries go, if you watched that game and didn’t feel anything but admiration for Klopp and his players, then you’re not a fan of ‘football’ in the true sense of the word and the incredible excitement it can bring on occasions like this.”

“The two young lads at full back, been a joy watching them play and develop over the last couple of seasons.”

“Very few people watched that game last night. Many people saying it was the greatest game ever etc will have followed it on twitter. To the U.K. public, last night will be forgotten relatively quickly. It was a memorable result and a memorable turnaround in the fixture. Not a memorable experience as so few experienced it.”

It's been a grim time recently and I started last night with the same glazed look as I've had for days. I'm still smiling today. — Niain Craw (@NiainTheCraw) May 8, 2019

“Usually with a win like this you can pick out 1 or 2 players who were especially good or who you’re especially happy for. Every single LFC player was superb, and it feels like every single one of them has “A Story” behind them. I could do 1000 words on each player, love them all.”

“The greatest nights are sometimes the ones you don’t see coming. Anyone who predicted Liverpool going through knows nothing about football. A bit like my mum picking the Grand National winner.”

“Alexander-Arnold is absolutely the type of lad who ends up great friends with his girlfriend’s dad. Just a lovely bloke, hard working, unbelievably talented and clearly whip smart.”

“It’s important not to fall into the trap of criticising Barça as a one man team (“see, if Messi doesn’t show up then they fall apart” I’ve seen numerous times this morning). It diminishes Liverpool’s win, this Barça side is packed with world class quality, no doubt!”

There's a genuine connection to the fans and a will in every player, even the superstars, to do donkey work. In an era of prima donna arseholes, they are a great reminder that it is still possible to assemble a group of spectacularly talented, decent lads who just love to play — Eamonn Quinn (@EamonnQuinn89) May 8, 2019

“I was so flattened by not only Kompany’s goal the night before but the circumstances that we won against Newcastle. No Firmino, no Salah, Keita a big miss too. I thought I was watching just to watch us get knocked out. I am 29 years old and embarrassed to not know better, heroes.”

“1. From 3 goals down. 2. Against Barcelona. 3. Who rested 11 players 4. Without Salah, Firmino 5. And Robertson after HT. 6. After giving everything on the weekend, to win.

7. To go again, leave everything on the pitch and WIN. Heroes, every single one of them”

Whether or not they win anything this season, that's not what football is about

They showed what it is about, creating a night of euphoria and delirium that no one will dare forget.

They basically epitomised the beautiful in its true raw and heart-riding form — Lord KIA (@_KunleAjao) May 8, 2019

“Klopp hugged absolutely everyone even mignolet & Moreno. Yes he was euphoric but he was also genuine. You can tell because he actually hugged 2 barce players before any of his own.”

“Kopp deserves praise for his inspirational qualities. A real leader and one who seems to be able to manage the huge egos that abound in a premier league dressing room. They are a true team.”

John Nicholson