Carra: My Autobiography (18 page)

Thankfully, a bemused driver obliged.

'I'll give you forty pounds to take me home,' Didi said to the shocked target.

'Where do you live?'

'I haven't got a clue,' Didi replied. 'I've only just arrived here.'

To this day, I've still no idea how he got to his flat that night, or where he told the driver to take him.

An altogether different influence, but equally inspirational on our treble run, was Gary McAllister. Unlike Didi, Gary Mac was a manager's dream. There was uncertainty when Liverpool signed him at the age of thirty-six, and no one was more surprised than me. There were no clues from Houllier as to his intentions. The previous season, when Liverpool played Coventry, Houllier had even singled out Gary as a potential weak link in their line-up. He pitched me against him in centre midfield, saying, 'You're running on petrol, he's running on diesel.' Six months later Gary was signing for the club. It proved to be one of the most astute purchases Houllier made. There couldn't have been a finer role model for any young player. Some older heads when they offer advice can sound too preachy and make you want to switch off rather than listen. Gary Mac wasn't like that. When he had something to tell you, it always made sense. I'm sure the two years many of us spent working with him had a huge influence on all our careers.

If ever a player was born to play for Liverpool, it was him. He fitted the bill as someone the fans could relate to, classy and cultured on and off the pitch and reminding the club of the working-class Scottish heritage that has been so influential in our history. No player has been at a club for such a short period but made such a lasting impression. It's a tragedy for Liverpool they didn't sign him ten years earlier. I'm sure the club would have won a lot more trophies during that time.

The competition in midfield was intense. If 2001 was an underrated season, Danny Murphy was one of our most undervalued performers. He'd score around ten or twelve goals in a good year but never entirely won the crowd over. Houllier came to trust Danny after inheriting him from Roy Evans at a time when it looked like he'd have to leave the club. Danny is the first to admit he's a player who needs to be in 100 per cent shape to produce his best, and Houllier brought that out of him. Unfortunately, as soon as Benitez arrived he accepted a bid for Danny and he moved on, not prepared to stay where he felt he wasn't wanted. I know he's regretted it ever since. Had he fought on, I'm sure he'd still have played a lot of football for Liverpool. And then there was Michael Owen, by now my room-mate and best friend in the game, who ended the season in the sort of form that led to his being named European Player of the Year. Mo seems to have spent his entire career proving critics wrong, and even then it was the same old story. Each season would follow a similar pattern: he'd score goals aplenty, have a mini dip when his fitness and sharpness would be questioned, and then when the biggest games came round he'd be the hero.

There's no one who can match Mo for self-belief or temperament, no matter what the occasion. Some players get anxious when the pressure is on. It always seemed to make him find an extra yard. At his best he could go eighty-nine minutes feeding on scraps, then get half a chance in the last seconds and bury it. There could be no finer example of this than the 2001 FA Cup Final.

Michael and I became friends because we shared a passion for the game and, despite our different public images, we had a lot in common, in that from the moment we could kick, football was our life. Our dads brought us up to be footballers. While I was being educated on the fields of north Liverpool, Mo was receiving a similar upbringing in North Wales from his Merseyside born and bred parents.

For a variety of reasons, Mo never had the same rapport with The Kop as his strike partner at the time, Robbie Fowler. It's too simplistic to say this was because of Robbie's Toxteth roots. The 'problem' for Mo was he became an England legend before a Liverpool one. He won the hearts of the nation before he won those of The Kop. It was the 1998 World Cup, in particular the goal he scored against Argentina, that catapulted him to superstar status. At eighteen he was described as the future of English football and was immediately linked with the top Italian and Spanish clubs. Liverpudlians, unconcerned about England's fortunes and uneasy about their players being seen as others' property, felt distant towards Michael. First they never related to him, then they never wanted to try. It wasn't Mo's fault he was so good so soon, and it was his brilliance for Liverpool which so swiftly earned him an opportunity for his country, but the supporters remained suspicious of his priorities. When he left for Real Madrid in 2004 some said it proved their misgivings were fair, but that's too cosy an argument. They never appreciated the Michael I know so well, who for as long as he was my teammate was one of those I knew would never give less than 100 per cent, and who was as devastated by defeats as I was.

He's more of a character off the park than the fans imagine too. Away days are the most tedious in a footballer's life as you're stuck in a hotel room wondering how to fill the hours before a training session or match. You can't go out, you can't have a drink, you can't do anything without the permission of the manager. Pranks become the only major source of amusement, and there are plenty of tales I can reveal about Mo, but I wouldn't want to ruin his chances of becoming the next face of the Persil adverts, or whatever other product he's endorsing nowadays.

I've often felt Mo would have benefited from revealing his true character more often off the pitch. Football nowadays is as much about image and being presented in the right way by agents and representatives as it is about the game itself. At international level that's very important, but at a club like Liverpool, sometimes not being seen as perfect makes you more popular. Flawed genius is revered on Merseyside.

While Michael fought a constant battle for The Kop's fullest affections, Robbie could do no wrong, despite his increasingly tempestuous relationship with the management.

Even during the treble season, the tensions that would eventually lead to his first departure were visible. Houllier hated the idea of personalities dominating more than the 'team ethic' that was his fixation. When determining whether or not to pick Robbie, he often felt he had to consider more than football issues.

We had four top-class strikers that season: Heskey, Owen, Fowler and Jari Litmanen. Heskey's form made him a certain starter, and he was the ideal foil to the other three. Mo was up and down but ruthless towards the closing months, Robbie had injury problems, and Litmanen, it was hoped, would be the missing link to play in the 'hole' behind the strikers.

The fans thought the new Dalglish and Beardsley had finally arrived in the shape of Jari. He was the type of player we'd been crying out for, slotting in behind a more advanced striker. All the greatest sides have such players. United began to win titles when they bought Eric Cantona, and now Rooney or Tevez can play in this role. Arsenal had Dennis Bergkamp. Every summer I hoped Liverpool were going to be in the market for a similar forward. Steven Gerrard was given the role in 2007–08 and played it successfully behind Fernando Torres for most of the campaign, even though he'd still see himself first and foremost as a central midfielder.

Litmanen was undoubtedly a brilliant footballer, but he lacked essential attributes for the English game and didn't fit our style. Away from home he was a passenger, but when the fans saw his skills at Anfield, where we dominated possession, they'd demand his inclusion. His vision and passing ability were a joy to watch, capable of transforming us from a methodical outfit into one more pleasing for the purists. This is what we were craving longer term under Houllier, but his resistance to Jari was emblematic of his reign. Physical power was preferred to flair. The fans' pressure to add panache annoyed Houllier more than it should have done. He stood his ground where Litmanen was concerned, but it was one of those occasions when his stubbornness got the better of him. Jari was correctly fourth choice, but he should have been called upon far more in specific circumstances against less demanding opponents, especially at Anfield.

Whatever attacking combination Houllier picked, he'd be criticized the following day as the fans chose their favourites. It shows how fickle we all are that there was a home match against Ipswich earlier in that season for which Heskey was 'rested'. We lost 1–0 and there was nearly a riot afterwards, the supporters demanding to know why Emile hadn't been picked. That's hard to believe now. Fowler and Owen were the favoured partnership that day for just one home game, and The Kop wanted Heskey instead. That shows how good Emile was, and how badly he dipped before he was moved on.

When Robbie wasn't selected and we didn't win, it was a similar story. Although he was joint captain with Jamie Redknapp, who missed nearly all of the season with injury, you always sensed the tension between Robbie and Houllier would lead to a final, inevitable outcome. Over the Christmas period in 2000 Liverpool accepted an offer from Chelsea, but Robbie opted to stay. After we'd won the treble, he'd finally had enough and moved to Leeds.

People expected me to be firmly in the camp of those disagreeing with his sale. Robbie is one of my best friends, but I thought Houllier was right to let him go. The Leeds bid was acceptable to all sides, especially given Robbie's recent injuries, and the private fall-out had been played out in public too often. He was effectively competing with Michael for the 'poacher's' role in the side, and the game was becoming increasingly about pace and athletic fitness as much as finishing prowess. Mo had all this, which gave him the edge. Houllier's judgement was unquestioned by the majority of fans by then, so there was only one winner.

I believed Houllier would use the money from Robbie's sale to buy a striker with different qualities. I was hoping for a younger, physically stronger Litmanen. Had I known then how he'd squander the transfer kitty, as well as how much I'd miss Robbie's presence and banter in the dressing room, I would have taken a different view.

When I re-evaluate those months, Robbie's contribution throughout the treble season was greater than Houllier or I gave him credit for. He wasn't the player he was when he broke into the side – and that was part of the problem between him and Houllier, who kept hearing about this striking prodigy but who'd never had the chance to work with the younger Robbie – but compared to most strikers in England and Europe he was still one of the best. In 2001 he was cruelly denied the chance to be the hero of the hour twice: but for two last-minute equalizers he'd have scored the winning goal in two major finals.

The first ought to have been the most satisfying of all. Birmingham City stood in our way in February as we pursued Liverpool's first major trophy in six years. We headed to Wales determined to outclass our Championship opponents. Instead, I left Cardiff after the League Cup Final feeling relieved rather than exhilarated by the experience of my debut showpiece occasion.

We were awful. A goal up early, thanks to Robbie, we should have eased our way to victory. Instead we toiled, allowed Birmingham back into the game with a last-minute penalty, and almost selfdestructed in extra time. I was troubled that we needed a penalty shootout to claim the cup, and it soiled my view of the victory. The spot-kicks were the only point in the game when anyone could notice the gulf in quality. Birmingham dispatched just two.

I was eager to take one, virtually demanding I be put on the list, despite the concerns of the coaching staff. 'I don't fancy Carra scoring his,' Phil Thompson confided to Danny Murphy. I was so angry as I made the walk from the centre circle I didn't care about any personal consequences. The venom with which I struck the sweetest of right-footers let out all the frustration of the previous 120 minutes. Emotionless, I walked back to my teammates and said nothing, neither expecting congratulation for scoring nor commiseration had I missed.

People talk about the sense of guilt when players fail during penalty shootouts, but I've never felt any. If I'd ballooned it and we'd lost the cup, I wouldn't have blamed myself for our defeat. We botched it as a team. Had we played to our potential, we'd never have put ourselves in that situation. That's why I've never shied away from penalties. I felt the same during the World Cup. Those who tried to thrust responsibility on me in 2006 – Tord Grip, if I want to name names – were overlooking the overall performance of the England side. Once you get to pens, neither side deserves to win or lose, and no individual player need feel responsible for the outcome.

Sander Westerveld made the final decisive save to capture Houllier's elusive first piece of silverware, but my outward jubilation was balanced inwardly by a nagging sense of unfulfilment with our performance. Still a youngster in the side, I had no intention or expectation of seeing this day as the highlight of my career. That's why I didn't delight in our success as much as I'd imagined. Just like my earlier honour, the FA Youth Cup, I sensed this was another step in the pursuit of a greater goal. We were still in the FA Cup and in Europe, and I wanted us to learn from our mistakes in Cardiff and ensure we improved.

A win in any competition is special, particularly your first major trophy, but at Liverpool you're always going to strive for more than the League Cup. Although we received the credit we deserved from our own fans for taking the silver back to Liverpool, deep down all of us knew we hadn't won over many doubters with our sub-standard performance. So when we returned to the Millennium Stadium three months later for the FA Cup Final, we were keen to make amends.