Part 3. The greatest game of football ever played anywhere in the world. Ever

I watched it with Simon. 

He cooked up a belting breakfast for both legs. He had to. It was on at 4.30am. We sat on his sofa with a full English and watched the semi-final. Liverpool v Chelsea. It was the one with the ghost goal. It wasn't of course. It was a million miles over the line. He was a Chelsea supporter. He was gutted. I wasn’t. I was over the bloody moon. As soon as the final whistle went I just knew I had to go. To Istanbul. To see the final. Liverpool v AC Milan. I just knew.

When you live in Sydney and you decide that you’ve simply got to go to Istanbul to watch the Champions League Final in less than a month you’d better get your skates on. I needed a ticket. I needed flights. I needed Picky to fly from Germany to Istanbul to meet me.

Look, I’ll be totally honest with you. I sorted the ticket and the flights first. Sorry. It was football. It was Liverpool. It was the 2nd love of my life. After Picky. We’ll get to her later.

I scoured the inter-web. The cheapest ticket I could find was $6000. For one! I was desperate. Totally desperate. But I wasn't THAT desperate. I very nearly did. But I didn’t. $6000? Nah! 

& then 'a mate of a mate of a mate' said that he had a mate who had a ticket going spare. I called him. In Perth. He had a Liverpool accent. He also had a ticket. And a job in a goldmine about 700 kilometers south of Perth. They wouldn’t give him the time off. He only wanted $1000 for his ticket. Only $1000. It's funny how your sense of perspective and value changes when you've come close to paying $6000. $1000? I was that desperate. I bought it right there and then. 

The flights were a different story. Getting to Istanbul from Sydney was going to take me 42 hours. Each way. I would have to go via Perth. And Bahrain. 42 hours there. 42 hours back. And a $1000 ticket. To see a football match? Madness!

Not really.

To see Picky.

I hadn’t seen her since she’d turned to look at me as she disappeared through immigration on January 10th. It was May. 5 months. I was still bereft. Devastated. Heineken still didn't taste the same.

Istanbul changed everything.

Istanbul changed my life. It changed football. It changed the world. It really did. The whole bloomin' world changed in one magnificent, unforgettable night. 

I met Picky at Istanbul airport. As I was walking into the airport the Liverpool team were walking through the airport. They walked right past me. I screamed at them. I told them to win the Champions League. Please. Steven Gerrard looked right at me. He heard me. I know he did. He knew how much the ticket had cost, how long the journey had taken and why I was really in Istanbul.

& then I spotted Picky. She'd just got off the plane from Berlin. Liverpool could wait - they were only the 2nd love of my life.

The only place in the whole of Istanbul that had a spare room was the Hotel Splendid. It wasn't in Istanbul. It was on the tiny Island of Buyukada, one of the Princes Islands in the Sea of Marmara. We were an hour by ferry to Istanbul. It was miles from land. Miles from anywhere. It was perfect. Isolated. Romantic. Quirky. Different.


It pretty much summed up everything about our relationship!

On the day of the game we hit Istanbul early. It was packed with Liverpool supporters. Packed. We mingled, sang and drank. One of the blokes we were hanging-out with bolted off to get his chest hair waxed in the shape of 'LFC' (Liverpool Football Club). In Turkey they wax your fluff manually - with a rolled ball of hot wax. He came back a different man.

The Greatest Game of Football EVER. EVER.

At half time Liverpool were 3 - 0 down. The game was over. Finished. Gone. Dead. 

I was sitting directly over the half-way line. six rows from the pitch. The bloke in the gold mines a million miles south of Perth had come up trumps. He’d sold me the best ticket in the stadium. I could see everything. I could see AC Milan score 3 of the best goals I’d ever seen. Not one. Not two. Three. The game was over and done with by half time. 

I was in tears. I was sitting in my $1000 seat, crying. I should have stayed at the Hotel Splendid with Picky. Two blokes behind me had had enough. They left in total disgust. More fool them.

The 2nd half began. Liverpool looked different. Something felt different. Something. I don’t know what. Just something. & then Liverpool scored. Hope. The atmosphere in the stadium changed. Liverpool scored again. At that very moment I knew. I really did. I knew that Liverpool would win the Champions League. And I knew that I would marry Picky. I don't believe in omens and I don't believe in superstition of any kind. Period. But sitting there in the Ataturk Stadium it was AC Milan 3 Liverpool 2, I was sitting in my perfect seat with a Heineken in my hand. It tasted perfect. PERFECT. Like it had tasted in that little transvestite bar on Koh Samui.

Liverpool scored again. 3 - 3. 

Extra time. Penalties.

Liverpool won. Of course they did.

It was the greatest game of football every played anywhere in the world. Ever.

& I knew right there and then that I would marry the love of my life.

I missed the last ferry back to Buyukada. 'Course I did! Liverpool had just won the European Champions League. After being 3 - 0 down at half time. Against AC Milan. My future wife could wait. For now there was some serious celebrating to be done. 

I found the Liverpool supporter's party. It was hard to miss it. I stayed all night and most of the morning.

When I arrived back to our secluded little island I saw Picky. She asked me who’d won. She'd fallen asleep in the hotel room during the game. I told her that we were going to be together forever. She nodded. 

She knew. 


She didn't know that Liverpool had won the greatest game of football ever played. But she knew.

... More to follow

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