Carra: My Autobiography (35 page)

Stevie returned to the Melwood dressing room to be greeted by his relieved and elated teammates, but some unfinished business remained. Rafa called a few senior players to his office to address the issue of the captaincy. 'Stevie should keep it,' I insisted, knowing I'd be next in line for the armband but uncomfortable at seeing my friend effectively punished for considering a move. I did impose a condition, however. 'We can't have this every season,' I said. 'That's got to be it now. He's got to stay for good. Stevie's the captain. We can't have another year like the last one where we're answering questions about his future every week.'

To my and the Liverpool fans' relief, Stevie agreed.

We signed our new four-year deals at the same time, posing for the happy, smiling photographs as if we didn't have a care in the world. The press made comparisons between Stevie's long-drawn-out affair and my instant, uncomplicated agreement. The fans did the same. 'You don't get any of that messing with Carra,' some of them said. 'He just signs and gets on with it.' I read such comments and nodded my head.

'Usually . . .'

With his vice-captain and skipper on board ('the two best signings of the summer' according to the club's press release), at least the manager could now turn his attention to new recruits.

Becoming European champions usually signals the climax of a manager's rebuilding process. In 2005 we'd done it back to front. Winning the Champions League couldn't disguise the lingering flaws in our squad. As Rafa contemplated the direction we should take, it was our League rather than European form which was the basis for his conclusions. If he'd underestimated the scale of the restructuring job in 2004, not even the European Cup could deflect his attention from our weaknesses in the summer of 2005. The manager struck me as a quick learner, which gave me confidence he'd bring in the right players, suitable for English football, and allocate whatever money he had wisely. He'd spent a season analysing the Premier League, recognizing before we could even think of winning the title that we had to make ourselves difficult to beat again. Those miserable afternoons at venues such as Goodison, St Andrew's and Selhurst Park had to end. We needed to be more consistent, to show the physical strength that had been so visible during Gérard Houllier's more successful period.

Managers like to talk about their ideas as working in stages, and although Benitez never spoke publicly about 'five-year plans', it was obvious things had to progress a step at a time. We finished thirty-seven points behind Chelsea in 2005. There could be no Istanbul-style miracle to turn that deficit around within one year. Rafa's first season was about getting us through the turmoil. Somehow we emerged with an inexplicable triumph. Year two was focused on strengthening the spine of the side, making us more competitive and giving us a platform on which to improve later. He achieved this, although my big regret was our failure to add a proven goalscorer to the ranks at the same time – or, more specifically, a proven goalscorer from Real Madrid.

If the conclusion of the second instalment of the Gerrard saga prompted a sense of déjà vu, there was more to come when Michael Owen's future dominated the headlines again. Rafa confided with me he was considering bringing Michael back, and I couldn't get on the phone quick enough to try to make it a reality. My mobile bill probably hit record levels over the next few days. There had been a suggestion Manchester United were ready to make a move, but I believed Mo was exactly the kind of player we still needed and I knew there was only one club in England he wanted to join. The problem was the price, and no matter how eager I was to have my room-mate home, I could understand Liverpool's reluctance to get involved in a bidding war with other clubs. On a matter of principle, you can't pay £16 million for a player you only sold for £8 million a year earlier.

Newcastle ruined our chances by making a ridiculous offer, which ended up messing with Michael's head.

He made no secret of his preference, announcing Liverpool were his first choice. At the Super Cup Final in Monaco, the Liverpool fans even started singing his name as a deal seemed to be edging closer. On the August Bank Holiday, the last day of the transfer window, I was on the phone to Michael every hour checking developments. He met Rick and Rafa before heading to the north-east for talks, but my confidence was draining as midnight approached.

Correctly, we weren't prepared to match Newcastle's bid. To get his number 10 shirt back Michael was going to have to call Madrid's bluff and insist he wouldn't go anywhere but Anfield. He was unable to take the risk. With his family desperate for him to come back to England, he was compelled to accept the only offer on the table rather than get stuck in Madrid any longer. No matter how much I tried to change his mind, or he willed Liverpool to make a firm bid, there was no solution.

We met up for an England get-together on the day he was unveiled at Newcastle. I still couldn't believe what he'd done. 'They're bottom of the League!' I said. 'I can't believe you've gone there.' But as I said, family rather than football reasons made his mind up. I'd never criticize him for making what he believed was the right decision for his wife and children, but he should be a Liverpool player today.

For some reason, our fans were less understanding. Michael returned to Anfield in Newcastle colours later that season and was the recipient of shameful abuse from a section of The Kop. I was disgusted on his behalf. As he stood in the penalty box at The Kop end the crowd began singing 'Where were you in Istanbul?' I could see the deflation in his eyes, and recognized how hurt he was after the game. He'd have been entitled to turn on all those supporters jumping on the bandwagon, a few of them who were no doubt singing his name in Monaco when they thought he was coming back, and ask, 'Where were you in Cardiff in 2001?' To see a player who'd played his heart out for us on the end of a reception so untypical of those that former Anfield heroes normally get was depressing. Over the years I've seen players who didn't contribute half as much as Michael, and in some cases were only here a season or two, being welcomed back to Liverpool as if they'd played five hundred games and won dozens of trophies. It made no sense to me for Michael to be targeted like this, and having spoken to many fans since, I think there is a certain level of shame at what happened on his return. I was happy it wasn't repeated on Michael's next visit to Anfield during 2007–08 – he missed the 2006–07 encounter with his cruciate injury – and I'm sure, given time, in future years The Kop will show their appreciation and give him the kind of reception usually accorded to ex-players.

Our loss opened the door for others. There would be an emotional return for another Anfield striking legend the following January. Robbie Fowler it was who made the improbable homecoming, signing for free from Manchester City. It was a move that delighted the players as much as the fans, even if it was only a brief cameo at Anfield for 'God'.

Michael's move to St James's Park also led to a reprieve for Djibril Cisse, who'd earned sympathy for the way he was treated during the preseason. Cisse, who'd spent just twelve months at Anfield and had battled back bravely from an horrific broken leg, would have had to make way had Michael returned. Rafa was frantically trying to agree a deal for him or Milan Baros to raise funds for a bid for Mo. Football is a ruthless business, and the fans could see Rafa's cold streak in the way he left Cisse and Baros on the bench for our Champions League qualifiers: neither played a minute of the matches to avoid being cup-tied. Beneath the pity for the pair it was also impressive to see the manager deal with a delicate situation in such merciless style. Baros was sold to Lyon and Cisse was interesting Marseille, but the breakdown of talks with Michael meant he lived to fight another season.

Djibril would have to be content with back-up status, though. For the 2005–06 campaign The Kop welcomed a new and unlikely striking hero from Southampton in a transfer that shocked us as much as the rest of football. Our defeat to the recently relegated Saints the previous year was one of our most miserable of the season, but the performance of Peter Crouch had made a huge impression on Rafa. He'd decided the side needed to be strengthened down the middle, with Crouch the focal point of his system. So, along with Pepe Reina, the Villarreal keeper he'd been pursuing for over a year, and Momo Sissoko, an athletic, ball-winning midfielder he'd managed at Valencia, Rafa bought Crouch, the giant target man he'd hoped Morientes would be.

For Benitez, it was all about finding pieces for his chessboard, and he's never made a more astute series of moves. Crouch wasn't regarded as a worldclass striker, but for the tactics we played in Benitez's second season he was ideal. Since Heskey's departure we'd had no one who could make it stick upfront to allow our strongest players in midfield to get forward. Even in our most successful games in the Champions League we'd often had to rely exclusively on a rearguard action, keeping our shape for long periods of defence. We didn't have the physical presence upfront to give our opponents a problem or relieve the pressure on the back four. Crouchy undoubtedly changed that, surprising us all with his quality on the ball, while Sissoko added energy and aggression, and Reina instantly settled as our finest goalkeeper since Ray Clemence. Jerzy Dudek must have wondered what he'd done wrong after being the hero in Istanbul, but he was suffering the same way as the man he'd replaced, Sander Westerveld. The manager simply rated Reina higher, and he has since been proved right. With Petr Cech, Pepe has consistently been the best keeper in the Premier League.

There was a presumption Crouchy would need time to win over our fans, but a negative reaction from The Kop never arrived. Our fans are funny like that. If they see someone getting unfairly criticized, they're more likely to get behind him. If Crouchy had come in being hailed as the future of English football, they'd probably have been more suspicious. His underdog status, allied to the fact he played so well in his first games, made him instantly popular. All he needed to secure his newly found cult status was a goal.

He waited.

And waited, and waited . . .

Even this cemented his relationship with the fans. I've never seen a forward have so much bad luck over so many games as Crouchy after his debut. He had goals disallowed, he hit the post, he even missed a pen. His lack of goals became a running gag in the media, but his contribution to the team was already there to see as our League performances were a drastic improvement on the previous year. Even when he did break his duck after nineteen games – a deflected shot against Wigan – it seemed the TV crews were on a crusade to take it off him.

By then, I was ready to take on anyone on his behalf. He'd endeared himself to my friends not just because of his performances on the pitch, but with his efforts to blend in off it. One of Crouchy's first acts as a Liverpool player was to join me in The Solly on Marsh Lane on karaoke night. He sang 'Hey Jude' and brought the house down, earning a standing ovation. There were no worries about him not being a crowd favourite afterwards. The Bootle Kopites made sure of it.

While he was getting battered, he was temporarily the most popular player at the club, having his name sung as much as Fernando Torres now. Once his luck turned and the goals began to flow for club and country, Crouchy saw the other side of being a Liverpool footballer. He could do no wrong in the eyes of Rafa when he needed support, but once he'd become a star player for Liverpool and England, I saw how their relationship changed.

'I'm worried about you,' Rafa told Crouchy once after he returned from England duty, having scored a few goals, earned rave reviews and probably indulged in one robot dance too many.

I started laughing. 'Not as worried as you were when he went nineteen games without a goal,' I said, trying to ease the tension.

That's Rafa for you. It's his way always to be negative. I've never heard him tell a player how well he's doing. He's always picking holes and trying to make them improve.

Some journalists used to describe Houllier as a 'professor'. I see Benitez like one of those teachers you had who would often get on your nerves by being at you all the time, but when you looked back years later you realized how good he was and how much you learnt from him.

My other view of Rafa is as one of those fellas you see sat in the corner of every pub who's an expert on any subject. If you tell a story, he can always go one further. If you tell a joke, he'll say he's already heard it, or tell you how to deliver the punchline better. The trouble with those kinds of characters is they wind everyone up so much during the week, when it gets to Saturday night and everyone's had too much to drink it only needs one loose word and the know-it-all gets knocked out. I'd best tell Rafa to be careful where he drinks!

He certainly got it right with his 2005 signings. The impact of Crouch, Sissoko and Reina strengthening the heart of our line-up was self-evident. We earned eighty-two points in the League, which was our highest since the Premiership had been formed. The three key signings added an extra 30 per cent to the side, and we coasted to a Champions League spot. Stevie's performances were also at a peak. He scored twenty-three goals that season to win the PFA Player of the Year, and he won't mind me saying not all of them were from right midfield.