Report by Steve Horton in Turkey

In the most far flung outpost of Europe, in the seat of one of the world's most greatest empires, a new Red empire was created in dramatic fashion last Wednesday night.

Exactly 28 years to the day after the glory of Rome, Liverpool FC somehow managed to surpass that event with a comeback of epic proportions to bring the European Cup home for good.
 
It's typical that when Liverpool finally get back to the biggest game in club football, they have to choose the one in the city that's as far away as possible and with an infrastructure that simply couldn't cope.

How UEFA could allow the final to be played in a stadium that's never been more than half full in its history defies belief. The infrastructure had never been tested and organisation broke down completely, but that's another issue for another day.

Liverpool were in the European Cup final and people were going to enjoy it. Reds partied long and hard in Taksim Square and outside the stadium itself for hours beforehand.
 
A flight delay and gridlock traffic meant I was bussed straight to the ground, passing shanty towns en route where bare footed children came out of their shacks to wave.

The bus parked about 800 yards away in a car park and we had to walk down a rubble strewn muddy path to the stadium. There was now five hours to kill before the game, but queue two hours for a kebab (only for them to run out of meat when I got to the front) and an hour to get inside and it goes in no time.

The Turkish authorities had obviously wanted people away from the centre and at the ground, but provided very little to do up there, except queue for hours outside the one food stall. I took 100 Lira to Turkey with me and didn't spend any of it.
 
Inside the stadium was a magnificent sight. The Ultras had co-ordinated t-shirts so the Milan end stood out as red and black stripes. The other 75% of the stadium was a mass of red and white, with banners taking up every inch of unused seating and balcony space.

This had been a pilgrimage of biblical proportions, with Reds coming from all corners of the world to witness history in the making. As kick off grew nearer anticipation grew, with a number of flares in our end adding a Turkish feel to the occasion.

Sadly the pre match pitch display and accompanying blaring music drowned even our support out in the minutes immediately preceding the start of the game.
 
No-one knew what to expect tactically as to whether or not we'd slow the game down and defend or come out all guns blazing. Whatever the plan was it had to change within 50 seconds when Maldini volleyed in a free kick that had been conceded by Djimi Traore.

Shellshock was the response in our end, but better to concede in the first minute than the last so all we could do was get behind the team.  
 
Liverpool had chances to get back in, with Sami Hyypia getting a good header on target and Luis Garcia frustratingly shooting wide from the edge of the box after John Arne Riise had flicked the ball onto him with his head.

But Milan were in charge, of that there is no doubt. Garcia was forced to clear a Crespo header off the line and Shevchenko had the ball in the net on the half hour but luckily it was ruled out for offside.
 
Benitez's team selection was certainly backfiring, with Harry Kewell having a stinker. When he finally limped off after 28 minutes it was to a chorus of boos, with many remembering his urgency to get off the pitch in the Carling Cup final.

The only thing is, Vladimir Smicer's arrival hardly inspired the crowd anyway. But if we could get to half time Benitez could get his notes out and surely inspire a fight back.

Then we were screaming on 38 minutes for a penalty after an apparent handball in the area, but with Garcia still sitting dejected on the floor the ball was in the back of our net. Milan broke swiftly down the right and the ball was crossed into the box by Shevchenko and Crespo swept it home.

Despair turned to total dejection a minute before the break when Crespo beat the offside trap and Jamie Carragher's lunge to calmly lift the ball over the advancing Jerzy Dudek. 
 
There was an air of utter despondency for the first half of half time, as 40,000 Reds who were 2,000 miles from home could only wonder how many more we were likely to concede.

If we can't come back against Crystal Palace and Burnley, what chance is there against AC Milan. Within our end there was quite a bit of arguing too as tempers reached boiling point between those who felt we were being let down on the greatest stage of all and those who felt we had to keep backing them no matter what.

I can understand anyone's frustrations, whichever side of the fence they sat on. Some fans had been drinking all day and some hadn't ate or drank since getting off the plane seven hours earlier, so there was plenty of reasons for tempers to be frayed.
 
But any arguments were set aside as the teams came out for the second half to a rousing and moving rendition of YNWA. The arrival of Dietmar Hamman also allowed for some protection in midfield.

All we could do was hope for some respectability to be restored to the scoreline and look forward to those east European trips in the UEFA Cup.

Milan began the second half as they ended the first, by looking for more goals. Dudek made a fine save from a Shevchenko free kick in the 51st minute. Just a minute later Steven Gerrard scored from a header to give us some faint hope.
 
Gerrard's goal had been greeted with little more than a brief cheer, some handclaps and "come ons" amongst the crowd but two minutes later Smicer's shot from outside the box evaded Dida and the celebrations were much more real.

Suddenly the belief was there amongst us that we could do the impossible. Milan were clearly on the rack now and some beautiful passing football led to Gerrard being clean through on goal and clipped from behind by Gattuso, who was very lucky to stay on the field.

It took an eternity for Xabi Alonso to step up and after a split second of heartbreak when it was saved, pandemonium broke out when he crashed the rebound into the roof of the net. In just six unbelievable minutes we had turned the game on its head.     
 
There was hardly time to draw breath from these extraordinary events when Riise brought off a great save by Dida after a rasping shot from distance.

It was inevitable that we'd slow the pace however and Milan begun to reassert some authority again. Traore cleared off the line and Carragher was tackling as if his life depended on it again. Djibril Ciise came on with six minutes left as extra time loomed, harbouring hopes of a fairytale end to what has been a traumatic season for him.
 
The first period of extra time went very quickly, but the second took forever, as we fought off a frenetic attempt by Milan to restore their lead.

Many of our players were running on empty and it was clear we were looking for penalties. We were certainly grateful for them when with two minutes remaining Dudek pulled off his amazing double save from Shevcenko.

From where we stood, it was hard to see just how he missed, as soon as he made the first save it was obvious the rebound would go in but it didn't.

It was at that point I knew we'd win, as the team who loses a shootout is usually the one who doesn't want or expect to be there. There was still time though for Hamman to go on a great run and run out of steam and Gerrard to play a short free kick to Risse only for his shot to be blocked.

When the whistle blew though, it was sheer relief in our end that we'd got to the shoot out, as Milan had dominant for the last fifteen minutes.
 
Between the end and the penalties I shed a small tear as I knew we'd done so well to get this far. I had begin the European odyssey in Graz last August and dare not dream of anything beyond the last sixteen.

Now here we were, five kicks away from Number 5.  Serginho stepped up, blazed over and I just knew it was our night. Hamman scored, Dudek saved, Cisse scored. This was just too good to be true,

I never thought it'd be this easy and I turned into a quivering wreck at the thought of what we were about to achieve. Tomasson scored and Riise missed to make it a little more interesting but Smicer scored to put the pressure back on Milan.

Up stepped Shevchenko, still haunted by his late miss. Dudek saved but it was difficult to see if it had bounced in. His reaction suggested it hadn't as he ran off with most of the team after him. Then followed two minutes of bedlam and tears of joy in our end (and two sides of the stadium too),with Riise celebrating alone in front of us by sinking to his knees.
 
It seemed to take forever to get to the presentation, but there were plenty of songs to sing in the meantime. Not once was any reference to Manchester made, emphasising just who is obsessed with who.

When the trophy was finally lifted, it was followed by heart warming scenes reminiscent of Dortmund with a lap of honour that no one wanted to end.

All the earlier hassles of the day, the flight delay, not making it to Taksim Square, not getting anything to eat all paled into insignificance as team and fans celebrated together.

I cant really do justice in words as to what it felt like to be there, all I can say is it was an honour. If I never see another football match again I don't think I'd care at this point, as in Istanbul I died and went to heaven.

Even though I went through purgatory on the way home, it didn’t matter. The greatest prize in football is ours to keep.

 

Team: Dudek; Finnan (Hamann), Carragher, Hyypia, Traore; Garcia, Alonso, Gerrard Riise; Kewell (Smicer) Baros (Cisse):

Agree or disagree? Email me at steve@liverpoolway.co.uk

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