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In the spirit of another FA Cup Final. I thought it would be nice to share memories about your first ever cup final. Mine was the 2001 FA Cup Final. I was about 10 at the time, and went with my Dad. I remember my Dad bringing the ticket with him when he picked me up from school, I was showing all my mates being the big show off I was. Now to to the day itself, Bacon and Egg butties at 5 in the morning, me Dad had packed a cool box full of other shite, we got picked up by our friend who drove us there and back. It was a decent car, I think it was Vauxhall Vectra, brand new. I had my full Liverpool Kit on, a scarf and I had some J-LO On me CD to play on the way which was boss. Took us a few hours to get there, and it was fucking boiling, I just remember the heat being so intense. We went to the Mitre Pub and watched Soccer AM I think, or something like that was on the tele. They had a BBQ out back and it was ace, I had been to a few games prior to this, but this was different this was special. We walked around the city, through the castle, Dad was drunk as a fart, and i got my programme, and got one of those horns. Cue headaches all round. Oh and it was boiling, did I mention it was boiling. Now to the game itself, I was smack bang in the middle of the upper tier behind the goal, about 2 rows from the front. The hot weather was just simply too much and I just had scarf, my horn and my liverpool shirt over my back. I can't really remember much about the game itself to be honest, all I remember was crying my eyes out when Ljunberg scored. I was devastated, I was in buckets, my Liverpool Shirt was soaked in tears. However, when we came back, it was crazy everyone was holding me up, I shit myself at one point because I thought i was going to fall! I can honestly say that it was the best moment I've ever felt going the match, it was an incredible feeling, the day, the occasion, I know Owen isn't loved anymore, but part of me still loves him for that, he was my hero as a kid. On the way home, Dad kipped in the back and I sat in the front, on the way out of Cardiff a bunch of Arsenal Fans in a people carrier shouted 'Good Luck in Dortmund', I gave them 2-1 with my fingers and then got slapped by me Dad. What a knob, me I mean, not me Dad. Being the young impressionable fan I was, the driver taught me the words to Poor Scouser Tommy, How he dealt with me I'll never know. We got home just as the sun was setting over Merseyside, what a day. You see, we had this discussion about what is best, fourth or trophies. You can't buy memories like this, you can buy players, but you can't buy the feelings you get when you lift the cup. It'll remain my best ever cup final, until hopefully this week, when I see the reds at Wembley again.