Liverpool Fans Came THIS CLOSE to One of the Most Joyful Moments of Our Lives

We’re Liverpool fans. I told you the hope would not kill you. We walk on, with hope in our hearts.

Two Hours of LIVING

For two hours, we were in with a very real chance of achieving what no one thought possible back in January, when we were 14 points behind the sports washers from the United Arab Emirates. And truly, few Liverpool fans expected it to happen when the teams kicked off yesterday, either.

But then Matty Cash wriggles past Cancelo, and his header finds the back of the net. LFC Twitter’s response did not disappoint: I saw several tweets to the effect of: “City beaten by Cash. Now there’s a twist.” Touché.

Suddenly, what had felt like a mere theoretical possibility had become quite real. Liverpool fans all over the world all screamed in disbelief, delight, and wonderful, palpable hope. This amazing Liverpool squad, which we all know is capable of producing miraculous events on an almost-routine basis, were poised to do it again. And this time might be the sweetest victory of them all.

We went into halftime merely tied with Wolverhampton, while Aston Villa was hanging on to a one-goal lead against City. All of us still believed the Reds would do their part. Despite Villa’s halftime lead, we always thought the hard part would be for Villa to avoid the nearly-inevitable Manchester City comeback.

But the possibility was now very, very real. The NBC announcers at halftime were predicting that Liverpool would walk away from the day with the trophy in their hands.  Oh. My. God.  IT COULD BE HAPPENING! IT REALLY, REALLY COULD!

Here in Dallas, as I expect occurred in the homes of millions of Liverpool fans around the globe, I was double screening. The Reds occupied the big screen, while I spared occasional glances toward City/Villa on the laptop.

The second halves started, and my attention shifted. Now I was doing my best to watch both games simultaneously. I kept expecting City to equalize. But despite their usual poking, prodding, and threatening, City could not find the back of the net. The 60th minute came and went. Still nothing from City.

But nothing from the Reds, either. If City dropped points against Villa and LFC failed to do our part by beating Wolves, that would feel like a killing blow. Sixty minutes into the match, both Manchester City faithful and the entire Reds diaspora were begging their respective sides to score. The drama was thick, my friends.

Then it happened. More precisely, Philippe Coutinho happened. Coutinho. The man who lit up Anfield for four and a half seasons from 2013 to 2018, and once scored a decisive goal for Liverpool to defeat Manchester City in the middle of an extremely tight title race (yep, Man City won the title that year, too). Coutinho was always a magician. However, since leaving Liverpool, he has struggled. He never regained the form that led Spanish giants Barcelona paying Liverpool more than 100 million British pounds for him in 2018.

Now, Coutinho plays for lowly, mediocre Aston Villa.

But yesterday, Coutinho put on the old magical boots he once wore so well for Liverpool. Like a rabbit from a hat, the goal appeared out of nowhere. In the 69th minute, Villa’s keeper lofted a hopeful goal kick 70 yards. Villa’s striker, Ollie Watkins, got his head to the ball, knocking it forward, where it fell to the feet of the Little Magician on the left outside edge of the penalty box. He took one touch to knock the ball inside toward his favored right foot. He gave the keeper the eyes, making Ederson lean toward the far post. Then Coutinho zinged the ball low and fast in the OTHER direction, inside of the NEAR post. Ederson never had a chance. Suddenly it was Manchester City nil, Aston Villa 2.

It is a refrain I imagine being heard all over the world, at that moment when we found out about that Coutinho goal. Liverpool fans in pubs, in Anfield, watching from their phones on the go, or, like me, sitting on their couches — we all exulted in various languages, tones, and phraseology: Oh. My. God.

Watching with one eye on the laptop and the other on the TV screen, I saw the ball go in the net, without yet realizing who had kicked it in. I screamed over the phone to Eric, Sophia, and Luke hundreds of miles away, “Villa scored AGAIN! Villa scored! AGAIN!”  When I recovered my faculties enough to look back in the screen, I became CONVINCED that the fates had conspired to make this Liverpool’s day. “It was COUTINHO! Coutinho scored it!”

At the moment, I was convinced the football gods were smiling on Liverpool. Aston Villa, managed by Liverpool’s living legend, Steven Gerrard, had just taken a nil to 2 lead against the richest, most powerful team in the league. And former LFC magician Philippe Coutinho had scored the goal that just might win the league title for Liverpool. So let it be written. So let it be done. The power of the narrative, baby.

At that moment, all of us Reds fans were full of hope. And we were all very, very alive.

But meanwhile, Liverpool STILL needed to score a goal to earn all three points against Wolverhampton and seal the deal. On that front, the anxiety was somehow mounting at the exact same time the hope was peaking.

The Reds pushed and pushed, and peppered the Wolves’ with a gazillion shots, but also somehow failed to create anything that felt like a meaningful opportunity.

Then, City went to work.  Ilkay Gundogan had subbed into the match just before the Coutinho goal. Seven minutes later, Gundogan made it 1-2.  Two minutes later Rodri equalized in the 78th minute, which is when the belief in my heart transformed into paralyzing fear.

A mere three minutes later, while the Reds were still searching for a go-ahead goal, City completed the comeback. Super-sub Gundogan struck again. Again, I relayed the news to my friends. This time much more quietly. “City scored. Again. Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.”

A few minutes later, and the Reds scored two more goals themselves. But, once City took the lead, Liverpool fans all knew the title race was over, even as we watched transfixed, in hopes of yet another miracle.

To put it mildly, the result was disappointing. It hurt.

But at the same time, the ride to get there was fantastic and glorious. For two hours I was THIS CLOSE to experiencing one of the most joyful moments of my life. We were really, really alive.

This has been a wild, amazing, joyful ride. And we’re still not off the horse. Saturday we do it all again. Walk on Liverpool fans, with hope in your hearts. There’s a lot still to hope for.

Thank you, Reds. You are spellbinding. We love you. Thank you so much.