“St Michael, God, and the glory that was Rome”
AS Roma 0 Liverpool 2, 15th February 2001
Do you want to watch a madcap Englishman say the name José María García-Aranda (a Spanish football referee) in a repetitive sing-song fashion?
How about a giggle as he can’t say the word “demonstrably” and ruins an otherwise fairly good reading of his own words? His own words!
Or can I tempt you with the soothing gentle ripples of the River Severn in the background as they rumble and tumble along before your attention is drawn to the oldest iron bridge in the entire known world?
“St Michael, God, and the glory that was Rome” also moonlights as chapter 25 in my first book on Liverpool Football Club “Chasing the Impossible and a Sword of Damocles” which I’ll link below together my most recent self-published book on the Mighty Reds “A final word from The Boss” and then this chapter in its entirety. Feel free to laugh as I can’t say “demonstrably”, enjoy the beautiful backdrop, or just dive headlong into my written ramble of a rather lovely memory. The choice dear reader, is always yours.
AS Roma 0 Liverpool 2 - Youtube
"Chasing the Impossible and a Sword of Damocles" - available via Amazon
"A final word from The Boss" - available via Amazon
AS ROMA 0
LIVERPOOL 2 (Owen 46 and 71)
Following my first two European trips in the 1996/1997 season it would be a further three seasons before I ventured into Europe again. On the footballing front the Reds would triumph over Celtic from Scotland in a much vaunted “Battle of Britain” (of which I had tickets until a dramatic reduction in the availability meant I lost in a ballot) and against a Valencia side from Spain who were fast gaining a reputation for thrilling, attacking football. Quixotically this victory was a nadir in so many ways as it projected into the consciousness the absurdity of Liverpool having joint managers at this time and sadly the departure of Roy Evans, a Liverpool stalwart for decades, soon followed. Before and after came humiliations and embarrassments both on and off the field. On it, the Reds would lose to Racing Strasbourg and an improving Celta Vigo before not qualifying for European competition at all in the last year and season of the 20th Century and also firmly under a now singular manager in Frenchman, Gerard Houllier. However, Liverpool’s boss had slowly installed a winning template into place with some astute signings combining with a local backbone already at the club in the form of Michael Owen, Robbie Fowler, Jamie Carragher and Danny Murphy. The absence of European football was soon rectified by Houllier and after a season without, the Reds again qualified for the UEFA Cup after the turn of the Millennium.
Closer to home, 22 years ago and mere months before the turn of the century and indeed a millennium, I left my hometown of Portsmouth for good after securing a sought after work promotion. It was pursued vigorously for a number of reasons and reasons I have covered in a few of my more personal articles here and in my archives, but a brief synopsis would be simply that I had a deep need to spread my wings and move away from home. I was ambitious, corporate minded, motivated with a huge desire to succeed, to “make it”, to prove myself right and maybe prove a few people wrong too. I wanted to earn a “good” living after barely scraping by for far too many years and being the recipient of far too many minor handouts from a Mother I dearly, dearly miss to this very day. I would also miss this misunderstood misanthrope who was my Mother and some dear friends too, but a work opportunity came along that I really wanted, really wanted, as it would enable me, in 1999, to take a chance, make a big move (for me), earn twice as much money as I’d ever earned before, secure a mortgage on a reasonably sized house, climb the corporate ladder, smile politely at those slightly higher on said ladder and steadily rise to the top position, and King of the Western World!
OK, not quite that grand.
Oh, and the real reason I wanted this job was because it necessitated a move to the English Midlands, and that meant one overriding thing: rather than being nearly 5 hours away in the car from Liverpool, I was now just 90 minutes and a few windy A-roads away. So before I’d even unpacked any boxes or settled myself into my new home faraway from “home”, I’d applied to the local Liverpool Supporters Club and was welcomed with open arms by a ragtag bunch of the warmest human beings you could wish to meet and I promised myself that not only was I going to as many games as I could muster here in England, I was going to add to my European travels again as soon as possible too.
I didn’t have long to wait.
And I “chose” THE most incredible season with which to start spending my new found excess disposable income.
Following wins in Romania, the Czech Republic and Greece, the Reds were drawn to Italy in the 4th round of the UEFA Cup, and a first leg tie in Rome against the famed AS Roma of Stadio Olimpico fame, and the venue for Liverpool’s European Cup triumphs of 1977 and 1984. I adore Graeme Souness’ gladiatorial one armed hoisting of the huge trophy to a dark and brooding Roman night as Liverpool defeated AS Roma on penalties, in their own Stadio Olimpico home, and for the biggest European trophy of them all. So I had to go to Rome, for the stadium, for the history, for the cliched “journey” this Liverpool team were on and for a full day in the Roman sunshine before returning into Liverpool airspace but a day later, and on my 29th birthday.
So I had to go to Rome.
I have very little recollection now as to the booking processes but I again travelled with the (in)famous “Town’s Travel” of Liverpool and as always, despite the famed stories of yore, everything went perfectly to the itinerary plan. I had travelled with them for all previous European journey’s but this time it would be different as I wouldn’t be travelling with “Steve The Taxi Driver” as I had on my two previous trips. I’m positive that Dave, famed organiser of my local supporters club travelled too, and with a ragtag bunch of maybe half a dozen others, and I had the good fortune to get along famously with the ladies and gentlemen nearest to me on the chartered plane (their names are lost to the mists of time now), but in the present, we landed at Rome airport and grouped together to explore the Italian capital.
The glorious city of Rome was kind to us and the weather held in the most part as we seemingly dashed from one historical site to another. From memory we had the very early morning until the very early evening in which to traverse Rome and complete our “supermarket sweep” dash through Rome, from the imposing Italian Parliament building, the long awaited first glimpse of the Coliseum, the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain and of course the obligatory pizza, a beer or two and just inhaling and enjoying the sweet sights and sounds of Rome. I’ve long adored the legends of both the Coliseum and the Trevi Fountain, legends both footballing linked or otherwise. But I fondly recall loving the Spanish Steps and the architectural surrounds and of that period, perhaps an hour, no more than that, and that short time being my overriding favourite part of our madcap dash around a major European capital city.
The coach transfer to the stadium and early entry into the Stadio Olimpico was untroubled and far from the hostility many Liverpool fans received on the night. AS Roma hooligan gangs attacked tens of fans throughout the day, inflicting several knife and slashed wounds in sporadic attacks throughout the city. The storied ill feeling from the 1984 European Cup Final in Rome, plus the following year’s tragedy in Belgium is often cited as the overwhelming reason for the mindless violence, and not the sheer aggressive nature that will always pervade a footballing “Ultra” or “Hooligan”. The perpetrators live this unruly and illegal life when cloaked in a group of hooligans that can easily attach themselves to a football club. Italian fans have been (in)famously linked to so many similar random and horrific attacks in the past, but thankfully the vast majority of the 6,000 Reds in the away section of the majestic Stadio Olimpico would only witness the crazy violence that broke out in the AS Roma section to the left of us at half-time.
With the half-time score at 0–0 the Italians to the left of us decided this was the perfect time in which to hurl any and everything into our neighbouring section. But that was just the entrée before the feast that was one Italian, clad in a full covering hooded jacket (ala “Kenny” in South Park) taking on all comers! His fists of fury locked and loaded, he simply scattered the terrace around him with continual fearful blows as he fought his own South Park war! When no-one cared approach him any longer, he went looking for them, wailing in all directions for another challenger, another opponent, and yet another punchbag. That memory will forever bring a wry smile to my face, but as half-time shows go, well, it was just a little too realistic for my liking! Sadly it rather summed up the first 45 minutes of football on the pitch, and within the confines of the stadium I had long dreamed of visiting that too was rather nicely packaged within the first half of the night’s football. The Stadio Olimpico was still a fine old lady but she was showing her age a little 21 years ago and I dare say as I write these words the stadium will have now been modernised for a newer century. I had a spectacular view, of both Kenny the fighting Italian as well as the football on the pitch, but the first half was drab and unremarkable. The first 30 seconds of the 2nd half would change the entire game and be anything but unremarkable.
A sloppy pass across the AS Roma defence let in Michael Owen who skipped past a tackle before driving the ball into the bottom corner of the Italians net. Owen’s reaction was one of supreme confidence in his own ability and a real “look at me” moment, and fuck it, he deserved it. He pounced on a dreadful mistake and an absolute footballing gift but with absolute clinical precision he drilled the ball home to give the Reds (playing in their alternative colours of Yellow and Blue) a shock and unexpected 1–0 lead. 25 minutes later Liverpool’s lead would be doubled after a pinballing around the Italian penalty area resulted in a deft cross from Christian Ziege being equally deftly headed beyond the Roma goalkeeper by Michael Owen for his second goal of the night and with a memory now having no recall whatsoever of the Italians coming close to reducing the 2–0 lead, Liverpool had firmly created yet another piece of Roman history in this grand old lady of a stadium with a famous 2–0 away win.
After a long delay in the stadium to allow the Authorities to disperse the local fans and Ultras, it was a relatively uneventful return to the airport and mere hours later we were back in Liverpool airspace and I was, officially, a 29 year old gentleman. Quite the way to commence a birthday! 6 days later I would be at a rather more modern Coliseum, that of Anfield and the home of Liverpool for the return 2nd leg in this European tie. I had been lucky enough to attend all three previous cup games against Rapid Bucharest, Slovan Liberec and Olympiakos and along with Dave and the gang from the local supporters club we were all incredibly lucky to be standing on Liverpool’s famous “Kop End” for the return game with AS Roma, and a game that has long now become a part of Liverpool folklore.
Starting the night with a 2–0 away leg victory and now aggregate lead, Liverpool were firm favourites to progress into the Quarter-Finals of the UEFA Cup. Here’s how I describe the events of this second leg in my original article “Was this the ghost of José María García-Aranda?” as I’m sure I saw a returning ghost of European games past:
On 22nd February 2001, AS Roma came to Anfield 2–0 down from the first Leg of the 4th Round of the UEFA Cup. Seven days earlier in Rome, I was one of the lucky 6,000 Reds to be stationed at the away end of the Stadio Olympico and watched first with disbelieving eyes as the Roma fans fought amongst themselves at Half Time as they couldn’t get to us (One Roman warrior in a “Kenny” from South Park hooded jacket was reminiscent of Mike Tyson in his pomp) and, after half time, my disbelieving eyes saw Michael Owen score two predatory goals for the Mighty Reds dressed for the occasion on this gladiatorial Roman night in alternative Yellow. Houllier had shocked everyone and played Owen and Fowler and in an otherwise fairly drab game Liverpool gladly took the two away goals and the clean sheet and whistled a happy tune back to Anfield.
I celebrated my Birthday in Italian airspace and with the widest of smiles.
Then, on 22nd February 2001, the Spanish referee Jose Maria Garcia-Aranda took centre stage!
In a tight game of missed chances for the Reds and the beautifully all white AS Roma, first Aranda gave a soft penalty on Emile Heskey but Owen’s equally soft penalty was easily saved. With 20 minutes to go, Gianna Guigou scored a majestic curling shot at the Kop End to make it 2–1 on aggregate and within minutes Marcus Babbel handled in the penalty area and Jose Maria Garcia-Aranda pointed directly, without equivocation and with a straight armed definitive point directly to the penalty spot. AS Roma, minutes from going out are now on the verge of possibly squaring the tie 2–2 and all results and ways of getting such a result, are now firmly on the table.
Then the referee pointed for a corner!!!!!
Mayhem ensued as poor old Jose Maria Garcia-Aranda was swamped in white shirts demanding their penalty. It was a penalty! No need for the Referee to troop off to the side of the pitch and watch it on a damn television screen. Or perhaps in retrospect there is. Or was? Who cares. Aranda was besieged by Roman gladiators in white and he simply waved his yellow card around like he was directing traffic! 3/4 were definitely booked in seconds and you could probably make a case for it being 5, but no matter, as with 5 minutes to go he sent off Damiano Tomassi for good measure and the Reds squeaked through to a date with Porto in the Quarter Finals.
All I’ll add for the purposes of this particular article is, please see the scant 2 minutes of highlights on offer via Youtube and you’ll see, without a shadow of a doubt, that Jose Maria Garcia-Aranda pointed DEFINITIVELY to the penalty spot. It’s as demonstrably obvious as can be. Then he pointed for a corner!!! My old travelling companion Charlie was stood right next to me on The Kop as the Spanish referee gave the Italians from AS Roma a penalty and whenever we’ve needed a laugh over the football miles as well as the footballing years we’ve returned to this brief and spectacularly bizarre moment in time. I can still recall us looking at each other as though something had gone badly awry within The Matrix. A glitch perhaps? Who knows. I doubt even dear old Mr Garcia-Aranda knows. But no matter, the Reds would triumph 2–0 against Porto in the Quarter-Finals, setting up that gloriously footballing cliché of a “mouth-watering” Semi-Final over two legs, home and away, with FC Barcelona of Spain.
It would be six weeks or so between defeating AS Roma and travelling to the famed Camp Nou home of FC Barcelona, and another footballing dream would come true for this lucky Liverpool supporting Red.
Thanks for reading. I hope this message in a bottle in The Matrix finds you well, prospering, and the right way up in an upside down world.