"How do you feel about Michael Owen these days?"

I think it’s acknowledged by most that Michael Owen is admired by many but loved by few. Of course you’d have to admire his career when you see his goal scoring record for Liverpool and England. Those days were Owen’s pomp, from the moment he burst onto the scene during the death throes of a Roy Evans title chase at Wimbledon, up to his last year with the club during the season that did for Gerard Houllier as Liverpool manager.

At his most potent Owen was a sight to behold, his pace was his greatest asset followed by his ability in front of goal. He was never the player that Fowler was, Owen’s best work was inside the box or being put clear of a high back line, whereas Robbie was dynamite in the box but had a left foot that was dangerous from distance. 

They had different attributes but both were important players for Liverpool. Yet one is regarded as a Liverpool legend whilst the other is considered a legend nowhere. Maybe for the national team, where his record of 40 goals in 89 appearances seemed to give him his greatest sense of satisfaction. That was always the problem with Owen, he never seemed a Liverpool player in the same way Fowler, Carragher and Gerrard seemed to be. That was possibly because his defining moment to most (and probably himself) came in an England shirt very early in his career. Back then I didn’t have any beef with the England national team and I was buzzing when Owen planted that goal past Roa in the World Cup. 

Possibly because I never thought of Owen as Liverpool’s property it might be why I wasn’t cut up about him eventually leaving for Real Madrid. I was annoyed that he hadn’t given the new manager a chance (see also Torres, Fernando) to mould the side but I don’t think you can ever chastise a player for wanting to try something different (especially when that player had done so much for us) and if Real Madrid come calling then it’s the player’s prerogative if they want to give it a go. 

What wounded me about Owen was his move to Man Utd. I’d advocated bringing Owen back to help us out as an option from the bench and seeing him go to them stuck in the throat. In reality he owed us nothing, he gave us his best years, won stuff with us and tried to come back after Madrid realised that signing Owen and Woodgate would not lead to a La Liga title (who knew?). All moving to Man Utd did was assure that Owen would be a rare thing in football. A prolific goal scorer who had played for three top clubs and was loved by none of their fans (see how I’m not counting Newcastle there). 

I was never mad at Owen for going to the Mancs, just disappointed, and I never had any sort of self-righteous anger that football fans love to trade in, with him. He was a great player for us who gave us loads of good moments and a few great moments. To Liverpool fans his cup-winning double against Arsenal will always be his defining moment, not the goal against Argentina. So I suppose I don’t hold any sort of grudge against Owen despite who he went on to play for.  He might not be loved by the majority of Liverpool fans but I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t love a fit, in his prime Michael Owen at the club now. 

Julian Richards

I loved Michael Owen, but I also loathed him in equal and – now I realise - excessive measures. Today I don’t feel much at all. Probably not enough. 

It’s ironic that on the day he announced his official retirement from football – many would say it happened unofficially about 5 years ago - that both of those extreme emotions seem as distant as the terrifying speed and the wide-eyed smile that abandoned him too soon after his stunning rise and characterised his slide into absolute obscurity. 

It seems sad that a man of his rare talent, who provoked so many smiles and frowns and provided so many unforgettable moments, goes out with barely a whisper and only a Twitter account, on which he’s constantly mocked, to let people know he still exists. 

Michael can and already has pointed to honours and accolades as he hangs them up. On a personal level – always his priority - 40 goals and 89 caps for his beloved England and the European Footballer of the Year title. As part of a team, he’s also got a League Championship, an FA Cup, a UEFA Cup and three League Cups.

People will point to his injuries and talk of what might have been, but the truth is any footballer could retire incredibly proud of that haul. The great tragedy of Michael Owen’s career was not his dodgy hamstrings and groins, it’s the fact that a man of his talent, potential and stature goes out with no one really mourning his loss. 

He’s not loved or loathed anymore. He’ll be remembered by everyone, but remembered fondly by hardly anyone. A once-in-a-generation player like Michael Owen should be missed. He won’t be.

There was a time, when a friend and I jokingly had “Robbie or Michael?” arguments. I always picked Michael. What a ridiculous thought that is now. 

On reflection, I don’t think it’s his all his fault and that’s why I have a tinge of sadness today. I don’t blame him for joining United, but I hated him for it, just like I resented him for not holding out for a return home in 2005 in order to safeguard his England spot.

But that’s just who Michael was. He was self-centred and driven to a fault.

However venal he often seemed in the years following his departure it must be remembered that through his endeavours to become the superstar he did, he helped facilitate some of the best memories of many of our lives. I don’t need to list them and for those I’m so thankful. 

But I can’t help thinking, as the chapter closes on his career, that there was a chance for “Michael Owen scores the goals Hallelujah!” for so long my favourite player song, to join those tunes that echo around our stadium for generations after their bearer’s finest hour. I’m not sad for Michael, but I’m sad for that.

Chris Smith