Seconds out, round three...
So here we are again. Liverpool against Chelsea for a place in the European Cup final.
While the epic win over Arsenal in the quarter final was rightly lauded as one of the great Anfield occasions, particularly in light of the see-saw nature of the game and the standard of attacking football on show, it is hard to imagine the atmosphere of the two Chelsea semi-finals, especially the first one in 2005 when it was an entirely new experience to two generations of Reds, can ever be beaten.
In case anyone's forgotten, this is how it felt when Slovakian ref Lubos Michel finally ended those tortuous six minutes of stoppage time.
Much has changed at Anfield since then, with almost daily headaches over the ownership, manager, players, supporters, etc ad nauseam.
These monumental occasions are the pay-off for all that stress.
This is where we come into our own and, whether Tom Hicks shows his face at Anfield tonight or not, we owe it to ourselves to create the same kind of atmosphere that has spooked the bejaysus out of Chelsea before and not dignify the Texan by giving him the satisfaction of being the centre of attention.
As rallying cries go the eloquent Retro Red on Red All Over The Land maybe sums it up best...
Tomorrow is about what we do best, it's about us, the team and the manager. Its the Holy Trinity in pursuit of the holy grail. It's Liverpool in the European Cup. No matter who usurps the font row seats in the Directors box, no matter what the back stabbing money men do or say, no matter who's name is on the register of shareholders and no matter what off shore scams they set up to bleed us dry, none of them will ever, ever, ever know what it's like to roar the Redmen onto glory in Europe. Fat headed yanks might think a complementary scarf and mug set makes them part of the thing that makes being a Liverpudlian special. One of us? Never in a billion dollars. Clowns in hideously mismatched shirt and tie combos might think they share in the reflected glory of the Holy Trinity's achievements on and off the pitch. Do they heck, empty unfulfilled hangers on. No spirit, no faith, just the miserable existence of the back stabbing businessman.Players, manager, supporters - we write the history books. And once tomorrow's chapter is written, then we let the shysters feel the shock and awe that's swept Europe aside since Shankly first dreamt his Anfield dream.
European Cup & a clean sweep of the board room. Possibly the greatest double we've ever won.
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Come on Liverpool