The UEFA Champions League trophy has been touched, kissed and lifted by a series of worthy footballing leaders. Franco Baresi, Steven Gerrard, Carles Puyol, Paolo Maldini, Javier Zanetti, Andres Iniesta, Sergio Ramos… it is a pretty rarefied list of legends have lifted the ‘Big Ears’ trophy since I was born. The latest captain to have lifted it is Jordan Henderson. Who would have thought that his name could one day be etched in history alongside these other exalted footballers?

The emotional hangover has finally passed. It’s taken me a week to digest the remarkable spectacle I saw last Saturday. After having thoroughly annoyed my wife with chants of ‘Allez, Allez Allez!’, explaining to her the gravitas behind a variety of Divock Origi memes and breaking into untimely and unexpected renditions of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ – I have finally been able to internalize what happened. Liverpool FC are Champions of Europe for the 6th time in their history. A football club which exclaims ‘European Royalty’ – with our historical record of winning this competition now surpassing that of elite clubs such as Bayern Munich and Barcelona with only two other giants on the European stage – Real Madrid and AC Milan – remaining unvanquished.

Our ‘Road to Madrid’ saw us overcome the champions of France (PSG), Portugal (FC Porto), Germany (Bayern Munich) and Spain (Barcelona). At Madrid, in what might be called a lesser achievement (but of course isn’t), we also overcame the champions of London (Tottenham Hotspur). Remarkable.

To call this inspirational would be to do it a massive disservice. This is beyond inspirational. This was audacious. Given the supposed gulf in the quality of personnel available, when compared to the likes of Bayern, PSG and Barcelona – it is outrageous. Because when you really think about it – where our opposition had superstars such as Messi, Neymar, Cavani, Lewandowski, Suarez and co. – our team was essentially a bunch of losers, rejects and failures. How the hell did we do this?

A Coach who Loses Finals:

Let us start with the coach – Jürgen Klopp. Branded as a specialist in cup final failure – and those who say so aren’t statistically wrong. Coming into this final – Klopp’s record was a staggering shitshow. Six years, six finals. Across 3 cup competitions and two teams. One common result – Failure.

In 2013, Klopp guided his previous club – Borussia Dortmund – to this very final, losing to Bayern Munich. In 2014 and 2015, he lost the German Cup final successively to Bayern and Wolfsburg. After moving to Liverpool, the losing streak continued. In 2016, Klopp lost the English League Cup to Manchester City. In 2017, it was the Europa League final against Sevilla. In 2018, it was the Champions League final again, this time against Real Madrid. He had dragged his teams to six finals and had nothing to show for it. This year he experienced a failure of a different kind as well. Despite having a points tally that would have won the English Premier League in most seasons, he still found himself coming in second behind Manchester City. The wound of last year’s defeat must’ve barely healed and here he was again – trying to overcome his own record and lift that trophy (or any cup competition trophy) for the first time in 6 years.

The Team:

His Liverpool team too are quite the eclectic bunch of unfortunate blokes themselves. Three players from teams relegated from the English Premier League on the books in their first team. Give it up for Gini Wijnaldum from relegated Newcastle. Xherdan Shaqiri from the relegated Stoke team from last season. And of course, Andrew Robertson who was relegated with Hull City two seasons ago.

Then we have the rejects. Mo Salah – signed and then asked to leave by Chelsea. Divock Origi a striker who couldn’t cut it at a mid-table club in the German league and had scored about 30 goals in the last 5 years. James Milner who was let go by Manchester City on a free thinking that he might be too old to make the cut. Even the aforementioned Robertson was once a Celtic reject. We then have Daniel Sturridge – whose last good season came in 2014 and has scored 20 goals since then while being permanently injured. And finally, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain – who wasn’t exactly an Arsenal reject, but couldn’t make their midfield and was inexplicably played out of his position for some bizarre reason.

Any list of Liverpool players is incomplete without a tip of the hat to lowly Southampton – who gave us Adam Lallana, Sadio Mane and Dejan Lovren. And because we don’t have a proper right back, we needed to bring in a 20-year old from the academy named Trent Alexander-Arnold.

And of course, we have the two mega-signings – Virgil Van Dijk and Alisson. Two very expensive bets taken by the club to reinforce two clearly deficient areas in the team. Klopp could have had quite a few defenders and goalkeepers for the fee that was paid to acquire these two. But no, he went for the only two he ever wanted and made sure that their massive price tag and ensuing media scrutiny did not bog them down. But really, how many of you had heard of either player 3 years ago, when Klopp was on the verge of losing only his fourth consecutive final? Not too many I imagine.

How on God’s green earth are this rag-tag bunch lifting the most coveted trophy in Europe?

The Power of the ‘Collective’

Lets face it. Liverpool FC have no superstars. No one in the high stratospheric orbit of Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo. Not even someone with a comparatively more earthier halo as Eden Hazard or Paul Pogba. Sure, you could argue that Mo Salah and Virgil Van Dijk possibly occupy that space at Liverpool. But ask our fan base which name they’d like to have on the back of their shirt and you’ll get multiple responses. Hell, even I don’t know today which name I’d have on the back of my shirt – my answer changed constantly as the season passed.

At Liverpool it has been the power of the collective on display. We don’t do superstars anymore – thankfully. We run on the collective. From the crowd, to the manager, to the players on the pitch and the players who sit on the bench – everyone contributes. Everyone helps the other improve. The introduction of Van Dijk means that he’s made Lovren, Matip and Gomez better defenders alongside him. And if nobody else is available, we have Fabinho or Milner fill in in defensive positions. It helps that our first line of defence starts from our attacking players – Salah, Mane and more importantly, Firmino. Conversely our full-backs contribute to our attacking prowess with Alexander-Arnold and Robertson killing it on the assists charts.

We had Daniel Sturridge who got the ball rolling with Liverpool’s first goal in the Champion’s League. We needed Alisson to save our asses in the final group game against Napoli. We watched in awe as Sadio Mane delightfully turned and chip the one of the best keepers in the last decade against Bayern. We had Divock Origi score three goals in two crunch matches in the semi-final and final. We had Shaqiri punt in a cross that allowed Wijnaldum to score one of his two quickfire goals against Barcelona. We had the crowd at Anfield hankering us on and seeding doubts in the minds of our opposition. Our unheralded players – Alberto Moreno, Simon Mignolet, Adam Lallana, Ox – may not have put a performance on the pitch. But unselfishly contributed behind the scenes, acting as backups, opposition during training sessions and otherwise basically keeping the squad morale up.

Perhaps none of them is a Torres, a Suarez, or even a Coutinho. But as good as they all were and as much as I liked them, they never won Liverpool a Champions League final. The last Liverpool team that won this competition comprised Milan Baros, Vladimir Smicer, Steve Finnan and Djimi Traore – all bang average players helmed by a captain that simply refused to give up.

Our players may not be superstars on the world stage. Which is great as individual superstars start hankering for to a move to Barcelona after their first taste of success. Nope, for us – the team is the superstar. The collective is the superstar. A whole greater than the sum of its parts.

Thankfully, after a few years now, we are not sweating over a superstar player looking for his dream move. Liverpool is the place now. Liverpool are the dream club where these footballers are living the dream. All looking to banish the hoodoo of their past and build their future. Last week they erased their past while simultaneously writing their names into the history books.

They all played their part to perfection. And now we can understand how Jordan Henderson – a man criticized for his gait, apparently a leftover souvenir from the CHAD era, a reject after his first year at the club, a player who is booed by his and rival fans, and perhaps the ultimate loser of them all, who stuck by us through his personal and professional hell, and having survived the Lambert-Balotelli-Borini era – overcame it all and won the biggest prize there is to win in club competitions.