You'll Never Walk Alone [Completed]

Chapter 10 - Poor Scouser Alex: Part Two

1-0 was the score at the 57th minute of the Liverpool-Bolton game. One of the midfielders shot a lovely volley from thirty yards out, straight in to the upper left corner. It was quite possibly the most beautiful goal of the season so far. Perfect shot, perfect technique, impossible for the goalkeeper to stop, it left me speechless. Speechless, but not necessarily because it was an amazing goal, but because Liverpool was now trailing Bolton, for the first time in the season.  Although it was relatively soon to brag, Liverpool was at the top of the table, while Bolton was somewhat towards the bottom middle. This game had been labeled as “easy pickings” for LFC, but in football, there is one thing you can be sure about: you can’t be sure about anything.

“That was beautiful.” Lucio said from my right, furrowing his thick eyebrows, his dark brown eyes narrowing.

“Gorgeous.”  I whispered.

“Brilliant.” Uncle Rob answered from behind me.  A collective groan echoed through the whole Liverpool bench, some with faces of disbelief and shock.

“Silva you warm?” our manager screamed out.

“Ready.”  Was Lucio’s quick answer as he sprung to his feet, changing out of his training attire.

Turned out that putting him on for the last 33 minutes of the game was the best decision the manager could have ever made.

The presence he brought to the field was amazing. You could practically feel the team livening up; the volume of the Kop seemed to increase times ten. His first touch was a long run from midfield all the way to inside the penalty. He feint a shot, which made the Wanderer’s goalkeeper dive to the right, leaving the rest of the play way to simple. Lucio crossed to the left, and after evading the touch of two opposing defenders, the ball landed at De Madrid’s feet. One easy tap-in and it was level 1-1 against Bolton Wanderers.

The normal eruption that sounded throughout Anfield when the team scored came out with full force as all the team ran to the Kop end to celebrate.

Twenty minutes later, after De Madrid scoring from a free kick that would’ve made David Beckham jealous, we were up 2-1. It seemed as if the bench had coordinated a celebration, for we all jumped at the same time. De Madrid ran to the manager and hugged him, creating a giant group hug as the rest of the players and coaching staff joined them.

Our third goal was scored in the oldest possible way.  From the Wanderer’s half of the field, Robertson dribbled the ball until he crossed to our side, effectively drawing all the defensive midfielders and defense to him. At the very last moment before any of them reached him, he crossed over to Lucio, who stood on the right hugging the touchline. Once he received the ball, he was off and running, his incredible speed meant he outpaced Bolton’s whole back line. Once again, their defense was tricked into running at Lucio while he crossed at the last second towards De Madrid, who had been accompanying him all the way through the middle.  A fake shot made their goalkeeper commit to a side too early and allowed De Madrid to dribble around him and shoot at goal, successfully completing his hat-trick.  Everyone, for the third time, jumped up in celebration. I turned around and jumped into Uncle Rob’s arms as we both screamed in joy. The Kop burst out in a familiar song:

“We’re full of smiles, and joy, and glee!”

“It’s Bolton one, and Liverpool three!” I joined in as soon as I recognized the song.

When the final whistle sounded, just as the song earlier had indicated, there were faces full of smiles all around the team changing room.

“… and they thought they could win!” Uncle Rob said, waving goodbye to me as he was heading out.